“Your ear, soap”
“Sorry?” I say
“Soap, in your ear, let me just..” and before I had processed what he said or what was going on with my ear (maybe I did have soap in my ear, having just showered to wash the day’s sweat and grim off me) the harmless looking gentleman began digging in my ear.
After being a little heat stroked from the bicycle, taxi, and motorcycle ride in the midday heat of Mumbai, I had set out in search of dinner. Walking at a steady pace with food on my mind, I headed to a small cluster of restaurants I saw where the taxi had dropped me earlier in the evening. I passed by the cluster of restaurants, peered in the window – nothing much interested me – and I carried on. Too tired and hungry to search any more, it would be back to Café Leopold for dinner tonight. Stepping up onto another curb and dodging a few sidewalk vendors, I was passed on my right by a man who motioned and started “your ear, soap”.
I resisted, then relented, then quickly resisted again as I felt his ear tools poke and prod at the inside of my ear. As I pulled away he showed me a brown waxy ball; kneading it around the end of his finger with the ends of his very professional looking metal ear pikes. I guess the demonstration was to prove that this brown ball came from my ear and more determined, and professional assistance was needed. He offered to finish the job and do the other ear (and certainly charge me a fee). I declined… my ears were clean, so I thought. I continued along the sidewalk, and spent the time on the way to Café Leopold checking my ear; paranoid that my street ear man had planted something or removed something or penetrated something he shouldn’t have.
I had been warned of the street ear cleaners by my brother-in-law before I left Canada last week. And by others, I was warned of many other cultural and environmental differences I should expect in India. I find it fascinating to now see for myself and begin to form my own perspective on “India.” Whether it’s a street ear cleaner or the way I find that a head nod in agreement to something is more of head… bobble – India is a different place, and I have to keep my eyes (and ears!) open to these differences, and find the way that I fit into the routines, rituals, and oddities of this land… because I am the traveller, the outsider. And I am the one who needs to adapt and accept the differences and learn to make it comfortable and manageable for my time here. Really it’s the only way I know to approach it.
Feeling slightly violated, I arrived at Leopold’s and settled in. Coming in through a side entrance, I could see the café was packed with young Indian couples, friends, and businessmen, along with domestic and foreign travelers like myself. The lively and loud conversations made the room electric – dulling the generally loud noises of horns and traffic on the busy street out front. Friendly waitstaff soon brought me a Kingfisher beer and some bottled water. I watched as security at the front door checked everyone’s bag as they entered. Leopold’s had been a random victim of the Mumbai attacks of 2008 that ravaged this area of Mumbai known as Colaba. Gunmen targeted two high-end hotels including the the famous Taj (maybe famous to Westerners only since 2008, it’s a landmark many here seem quite proud of), the main railway station not far away, among other sites. As I sit enjoying my meal it’s hard not to spot the marks left from that terrible day. Bullet holes in the high ceiling and on the pillars supporting it. More bullet holes in the stained glass above the murals on the wall and in the glass in a central panel at the front. You can almost imagine the spray of bullets tearing up the room within seconds and the devastation it left behind no doubt. Then there are the commemorative plagues and paintings that speak to the resilience and enduring spirit of the place – one plague congratulating the café on opening its doors the very next day after the attack (though this point seems to be contradicted in other reports that suggest it opened a few days later).
With my meal done I walked back to my hotel and reflected on the busy day and its successes and challenges. It was a full day of activity and exploration of the vast city of Mumbai. Twelve hours of Mumbai traffic was what it took a local cyclist and myself to sort out a route for the Indian Adventure Cycling Tour to cycle into that city. We first cycled 18 km from Bandra neighbourhood (midway thru the city) to the Gateway of India, and our exit point from Mumbai next to the Taj Hotel. Then it was a motorcycle ride to the northern edges of the city and an attempt to find a way in. Unfortunately what was discovered is that it would be 60 km of city cycling to get to our hotel and not enough time in the morning hours to do this before traffic starts getting too mad for cycling, so it looks like we will bus our riders into the city instead.
There is a magical window… a morning calm in Mumbai between sun rise (about 6:30am) and 9am. The larger city streets are very cycle-able almost verging on pleasant. But at 9am the city switches on – seemingly all at once, and the traffic, noise and general congestion continue to build throughout the day… making any cycling (even on a Saturday or Sunday) next to impossible with clogged streets everywhere. Unfortunately that magic window is just a little too small for the distance to tour needs to cover.
Mumbai has been fascinating. I have loved my time here. As with any travel, a place starts to become so much more in your mind than what you had first imagined it to be. Certainly there are problems in Mumbai – enormous slums fill many pockets of the city, sanitation can be more than just a little concerning. The sea all around is creeping higher as the retaining walls that surround the sea facing parts of the city seem a temporary solution to a fundamental problem with the city plans and location. Now off to Delhi, I move on to another city, and another new day of challenges and explorations to be had. One of many we expect to have over the next four weeks here in India.
Lastly, I wanted to pass along a special thanks to Bertram, who guided me through the streets of Mumbai and gave me an insiders look at what cycling is really like here – thanks Bertram! I certainly could not have done it without you.
