A draft of cool Indian air greeted me as I stepped out of the aircraft. After queueing for about 45 minutes, I finally cleared the customs and stepped out into Mumbai. I was greeted by a mass of humanity at the airport.
My boss had instructed me to take a taxi to the J.W. Marriot, so I looked for a respectable-looking counter and placed an order for a cab. I was lead to a not-so-respectable-looking taxi. It was one of the smallest taxis I had ever seen. The taxi seemed like it was 30 years old, and it seemed to be ready to fall apart anytime soon. My first thought was, "Is India really so backward?". An Indian volunteered to help me carry my things to the taxi, and after performing the service, extended his hand out to me. The whole thing had a dodgy feel to it.
The taxi drove through the streets of Mumbai. I had been told that Mumbai was the financial district of India, but nothing prepared me for what I saw. Shabby-looking houses and run-down buildings paved the streets. There were also always large, messy piles of earth and litter everywhere I went. Beggars come knocking at the door of the cab asking for money. Also, is it just me, or do Indian drivers have a passion for honking?
All of a sudden, the cab came to a halt. A thick plume of smoke came out of the driver's panel. Somehow, I did not feel surprised to see smoke come out from the cab. I was surprised the cab was even moving on the road at all, judging from its condition. The situation felt more and more dodgy. The cab driver pulled over to the side of road, and helped me hail another cab. I was on my way to J.W. Marriot again.
The J.W. Marriot was a stark contrast to the streets of Mumbai. It was new, well maintained, and most importantly, clean. It was over here that I took my refuge for several hours before I had to head off for Kolkata (Calcutta).
My boss had instructed me to take a taxi to the J.W. Marriot, so I looked for a respectable-looking counter and placed an order for a cab. I was lead to a not-so-respectable-looking taxi. It was one of the smallest taxis I had ever seen. The taxi seemed like it was 30 years old, and it seemed to be ready to fall apart anytime soon. My first thought was, "Is India really so backward?". An Indian volunteered to help me carry my things to the taxi, and after performing the service, extended his hand out to me. The whole thing had a dodgy feel to it.
The taxi drove through the streets of Mumbai. I had been told that Mumbai was the financial district of India, but nothing prepared me for what I saw. Shabby-looking houses and run-down buildings paved the streets. There were also always large, messy piles of earth and litter everywhere I went. Beggars come knocking at the door of the cab asking for money. Also, is it just me, or do Indian drivers have a passion for honking?
All of a sudden, the cab came to a halt. A thick plume of smoke came out of the driver's panel. Somehow, I did not feel surprised to see smoke come out from the cab. I was surprised the cab was even moving on the road at all, judging from its condition. The situation felt more and more dodgy. The cab driver pulled over to the side of road, and helped me hail another cab. I was on my way to J.W. Marriot again.
The J.W. Marriot was a stark contrast to the streets of Mumbai. It was new, well maintained, and most importantly, clean. It was over here that I took my refuge for several hours before I had to head off for Kolkata (Calcutta).
