India Field Report #3

India Field Report #3

We flew into Aurangabad yesterday afternoon after having a brief bus tour in the morning of Mumbai. Mumbai, formerly known as Bombay is the commercial capital of the country. It’s New York City. Generating one third of the revenue of the country. It is the home to many of the Bollywood studios.

Located on the west side of the country on the Arabian Sea the climate in February is dry with the temperature in the mid seventies. At least that’s the way it was in the part of Mumbai we were staying in. Our hotel, one of the oldest in the city, overlooked the Arabian Sea right at The Gateway to India. The Gateway to India was built in 1911 for the reception of George V. Bombay id the place where the British entered India and where they left the country in 1948. Our Hotel, The Hotel Taj Mahal, is the place where all the big named folks stay when they come to the city. There’s a picture of Angelina Jolie and of Mic Jagger, and many politicians. The man who led our yoga class was a personal trainer for Oprah when she was in town.

Naturally, the rates reflect the poshness. There is a young man in the hallway in the mornings who informs me he is at my service and asks if I need anything. I say no and thank him. When I come back to my room everything that I threw on the other side of the bed in an effort to find something that I knew I packed but has eluded me is now neatly organized across the foot of the bed. The stack of U.S. coins that I stacked near the television is now laid out on a serviette coin by coin. My book has a ew bookmark, replacing the top of a torn of tab of a sugar packet. My pair of shoe I left one atop the other are now neatly placed side by side with brown cloth bags marked with a sign saying “Shoe Freshener.”

The second night after I arrived I ate by the pool. They setup a barbecue stand near the water. The menu said Ponfret and I assumed Pomme Frites and assumed it was French fries with steak. I ordered red wine. I was surprised when a fish showed up. It looked like a flounder, a thick meaty flounder and probably one of the best white fish I have ever had in my life. I saw the head chef, a tall Shik with imposed headpiece, come out to check on the guys at the grill. I told him how good the fish was and he turned right around to let the men at the grill know. I exchanged “thumbs up” with them. I told the waitress I wanted to switch to white wine. She poured me more red.