Arrivals - Mumbai, India

I was prepared to enter into a war zone, or at least what I thought a war zone might look like. This is after all, India. I'm not sure what I thought was going to happen when I got off the plane, however, the general consensus was comparing one's arrival into India like childbirth - painful. So with an ounce of gusto and a smirk on my face I left the confines of the airport into Mumbai.

I was shocked.

I was expecting uniformed officers to be beating men with sticks, bullet holes in the walls, taxi wallahs vying for my attention, limbless beggars grabbing at my legs and hands, and a full on assault of the senses. Instead, Richard and I left the airport seamlessly, we found a place to stay with relative ease and I discovered that squat toilets aren't the worst thing in the world.

I spent three days in Mumbai, and I liked it.

The city is dirty, but not grimy. Public transport is relatively efficient and easy to use. Food is good. It was crowded, but I didn't feel squished. There were slums, families of five sleeping, eating and living on the pavement, settlements directly beside the railway tracks, dead rats in the small lanes of Bandra Bazaar, and many, many people with curious eyes. People, however, wherever we were, went out of their way to help.

Yes, I liked Mumbai, and that surprised me.

-Tossed Sallard-