Mon 24 Nov Rajkot Bhuj

Mon 24 Nov Rajkot to Bhuj
We were up and ready for breakfast at 730 am. Where was the breakfast room?  Order from the menu, and eat in your room.  It is included? Yes.
So we order an uninspiring 2 veg. sandwiches and 2 teas.  Up it comes.  We give the hotel guy a 10 R tip. We also polish off the coconut rice, saving the container.
Soon comes another guy with the bill for the breakfast.  130 R + 15 R service charge plus 27 R for the water from yesterday.  WTF!!!  We pay but we are steaming.  No guidebook ever said breakfast was included, and the hotel didn't seem to be one with included breakfast, but we had directly asked twice.  On the way out, we complained that if the hotel staff didn't understand English (i.e., the word "included"), they shouldn't have pretended that they did.  We decided to complain on Thorntree and walked off to explore Rajkot.
Visitng Gujurat w/o exploring the legacy of Gandhi, who forged his ideas and movement here, would be like visiting Atlanta and Georgia w/o ML King Jr.
Our first goal was the childhood home of Mahatma Gandhi, now a museum.  The historic home was built in the 1880s.  The house was for an extended middle class family, centered around a courtyard and containing maybe 20 rooms. To get there, we walk up Kanak St toward Hotel Kaveri. The street turns instead of going straight, so we walked through the ST bus station and re-calibrated our orientation.
Mohandas Ghandi was born in 1869, and married in 1882.  His wife died in 1944 after 62 years of marriage. [He was assassinated on Jan. 30, 1948, after his great success in the creation of India turned to misery as the forces of Muslim and Hindi nationalist parties forced the violence which broke India into India and Pakistan and led to the movement of tens (hundreds?) of millions of people from Pakistan to Hindustan and vice versa.] Gandhi's whole life is summarized in pictures and quotes spanning several rooms of the museum.  We forget how important Gandhi was for 20th century philosophers and intellectuals.
It was now 1000. A few blocks up was a street market.  There we found lots of fruit we had never seen before.  Time to ask as best we can: "What is this?"  Our curiosity amused vendors. We bought guavas and a yellow pear-shaped version which was called "zampa."  There was a small plum shaped fruit called "owla," a very small fruit called "dela," and something that looked like wheat grass called "makhai lilo."  We also bought 4 more singoras.
Cashews are expensive - ranging from 500 to 700 R per kg.  This is curious since they are used with abandon in cooking. We bought 100 gm (3.5 oz) of broken pieces for 50 R.  This store actually vacuum sealed the tiny package.
Coming back we get pretty close to the hotel but have to go through the bus terminal once more to finally get there.
It is 1115 and Mike presents money for check out.  Surprise!  The total is 1800, not 1800 + tax.  They have discounted the tax, which is roughly equivalent to the cost of the breakfast . . . a way of saving face over the breakfast charge, perhaps?
Next, we take a quick auto-rickshaw trip to Jay Somnath Travels.  The bus isn't waiting here.  It is in the outskirts, so we board another bus that takes us and other passengers to the Volvo A/C bus.
We leave about 1215 (15 min late), and arrive in Bhuj around 1645.  A quiet, uneventful trip with a movie which we cannot understand.  A "throw papa from the bridge" subplot. No music or dance.  Phooey.
We are dropped off at the side of the road on busy Bus Stand Rd.  Before going to the hotel, Mike tries a couple of travel agents for info on buses to Jaisalmer,our next destination.  While Carol waits with our bags, Mike is given the names of two other travel agencies for future reference.
A 30 R rickshaw to Hotel Gangaram - the distance is not all that far (about 1/2 km), but there are a few subtle turns down alleyways which we might never have found on first try going by foot.
Our room was only 1200 R, the cheapest yet.  It was functional but a little small.  After settling in, we talked to the the travel agent in the hotel, who is also the owner.  He arranged an all-day car to the north of the region of Kachchh for tomorrow.  3200 R + 350 R permit to get close to the Pakistan border.
Our plan was to go to the town of Jaisalmer on Wednesday.  It turns out that HK Travels has an overnight bus to Palanpur; however, from Palanpur the next bus to Jaisalmer is also an overnight bus.  Unsatisfactory. Better is Aashapur Travels, which has an overnight bus taking 13 1/2 hours (!) to Jodhpur.  From Jodhpur, there are frequent 6 hr day buses to Jaisalmer.
So back to Bus Stand Rd to buy sleeper tickets (1300 R) to Jodhpur for Wed. night.  [Later on, in Jaisalmer, we learn there is a direct sleeper from Bhuj to Jaisalmer, which would have saved us about 4 hours.  But it seems to have been not well known in Bhuj.]
Tickets in hand, we see an internet cafe across the street and post for close to 2 hours.  Closing time approaches, so we walk to the hotel.  We almost get there.  A kindly gentleman takes us the last 150 feet, which were not obvious to us at the time.
Carol goes to bed.  Mike talks with Roland, a hotel guest from Belgium for about an hour, and then comes up to bed.

Sun 23 Nov Lions!

Sun 23 Nov Asiatic Lions!
Today's plans were to head out of Diu before dawn to Sasan Gir (Lion Preserve) park.  Our goal: join a jeep's worth of tourists, see an Asiatic lion or two and other wildlife.  Sasan Gir has the only surviving population of the Asiatic lion in the world.  They once ranged as far as Greece. In the early 20th century the Nawabs of Junagadh [source of our word "juggernaut"] took measures to protect the minuscule number of lions in the Gir forest.  What exists now is a remnant population of about 400 lions:  "ecologically although not perhaps genetically viable."  The lions prey off cattle and livestock, no longer true hunters.
We have ordered a private car to come at 500 and drive us to Sasan Gir, about 100 km away.  Cost:2200 R ($37).  Our alarms fail.  We wake up in a panic at 410, shower, and are downstairs at 450.  The taxi comes at 456, and we are off.  Goodbye, Diu.  You've been great.
We pull in to Sasan Gir at 640, get out of the car and find the following:  Permits for the 15 7 - 10 am jeeps were already given out.  For the 15 9 am - noon jeeps, many folks are already in line.  There, about 12th in line, was a Dutch 22 yr old desperate to fill a jeep.  He grabbed us and we agreed to take 2/3 of the costs. He, Duco, was ecstatic and so were we.  Duco is very personable and we bond quickly.  We got our bags from the taxi, dismissed our driver to go back to Diu, and sat and waited.  And waited.
At 730 park personnel called for forms for the next round of permits.  Duco was given a form, and so therefore he was going to get a permit.  The jeep was 1300 R (our share 1000 R because our backpacks were coming along).  Fair deal.  The permit was 3000 R (our share 2000 R).  We each paid 600 R to carry along a camera.  Finally the guide was 250 R (our share 200 R). For Indians the permit was only 500 R and the camera only 100 R, but this is still expensive by Indian standards.  No school groups here, just middle class visitors on holiday.
Our Dutchman, Duco, had taken a train to Rajkot, 2 buses to Sasan Gir, and stayed in an onsite hotel over night.  He was in line at 500, just early enough.  A few minutes later and we might all have been SOL.  We saw many disappointed faces as we joined the "chosen."
It is 745; time to cool our heels.  Sasan Gir is a full-service visitor site. Time now for breakfast. We go to an eatery, order an alu paratha (potato-stuffed pancake) (40 R and quite filling) each and two teas (15 R) and talk.  Our treat for Duco. He has traveled extensively.  Hong Kong and China are next on his list.
At 820 it is back to his lodge room for a gratis bathroom break.  Carol has discovered that the potty charge at Sanan Gir is 5 R.  Not exactly Dubrovnik, Croatia, (close to $1.00 there), but women pay for what men do for free.
Finally, our jeep loads.  We have driver and guide in front and the three of us in the open air in back.  We see cars coming back from the 7 am group.  Their reports.  4 male lions for one car, a male and a female for another car. The guidebooks say that half of the trips never see a lion.  Anyway, our guide is asking the park patrol and the other guides where the lions are today.  Well, there was one lion sleeping most of the way across the park on track 2 (?).  So off we go, and about 1000 sure enough there is a female lion about 20-25 meters off the road (sleeping off a large dinner?).  Occasionally she looks around, and swishes her tail, but mostly she just lies there.  No chorus from "Lion King." One by one the jeeps come by and pause so everyone can look.  Wowie zowie - a big sleepy cat.
Trees: a babul (a kind of acacia tree with green pods that look like a string of flat beads).  It is a good source of firewood; you get gum from the trees and the cattle eat the pods.  We were in a thorn forest, mostly dry with seasonal monsoon rains.  Most of the trees are teakwood, which dominate the forest.  We also see a white "ghost tree."
Our final total: 1 female lion, 1 spotted owlet (a daytime species, perched close to the road), 5 monkeys. Many deer: spotted deer (chital), and a couple of large sambar deer (75-80 kg). Birds: some green parakeets, peacocks, a kingfisher bird, a small green bee-eater (bird), some herons. All this Nature for 6000 R ($100).
We are back at the entrance before 1200.  We wait at the bus stop.  At 1210 a small bus comes along.  It is going to Junagadh, about 80 km away.  It is packed but somehow the three of us and all of our packs are squeezed on board.  Carol is way in the back with a husband, wife, and a cranky 1 year old girl.  She plays peek-a-boo with the girl, who quiets down.
Anyway, at 1350 we are in Junagadh.  We are asked to pay 150 R.  Duco pays 50 R.  We think we have been charged for Duco, but what does it matter?  Duco is staying in Junagadh one day.  His train leaves Rajkot the next night.  We bid him a fond farewell.
We are immediately off on the next express to Rajkot.  As we get out of town, the driver stops the bus and spends the next 12 minutes collecting fares (his collector didn't show?).
On the road, he is really hitting the accelerator and passing everything in sight - air horn honking all the way. We get in to Rajkot about 1645, and walk over to Hotel Bhakti, where for 1800 R we receive a reasonable room. They even bring a bottle of cold water to the room.  We ask if breakfast in included.  It is.  When? Any time after 700 am.
After we settle in we hop an auto-rickshaw for 30 R over to Jay Somnath Travels, which operates private AC Volvo buses to Bhuj.  We splurge and pay 700 R for two tickets to Bhuj, tomorrow at noon.
There is supposed to be an internet cafe next door.  We don't find it.  Folks on the street say "go to Dr. Yagnish St."  So for 30 R an auto-rickshaw takes us there.  We buy some masala corn (20 R) and masala banana chips (30 R) for snacking.  This neighborhood has lovely sweet and snack shops.  Plenty of folks saying "go this way" or "that way" (pointing), but no internet cafe.
So we give up and take a 50 R rickshaw to the guidebook-recommended Bukhara Restaurant in Hotel Kaveri.  It is just up the street from Hotel Bhakti, but rather more expensive.  The prices for dinner, however, are reasonable. We ordered vegetable khazana (145 R), paneer makhani (160 R), coconut rice (95 R), two plain naans (45 x 2), and two teas (30 x 2).  Total 577 R, with service charge.  We ordered well, because we ended up with delicious food and distinctive tastes.  However, it was way too much food. We took most of the coconut rice in a plastic container to go.  This turned out to be a wise choice.
It should have been straightforward to get back to our hotel, but it was not.  We wandered for a good while (but not unpleasantly) until we were directed to the front of the ST bus station, from whence we retraced our steps back to our hotel.
Good night.

Sat 22 Nov Diu

Sat 22 Nov Diu
Got an early start - out a little after 700 to take advantage of the cool.
A note on weather - though we have not been able to reliably keep track of our weather, we believe that each day we have been here the temp has reached 90 with some days hitting 95-97.  In Mumbai the morning temps were 79-81 when we landed.  All of this, of course, in an urban settings.  As we have gone north and fall has advanced toward winter, our morning temps have dropped to 71-73.  By next week when we will be in Rajasthan Mike expects morning temps in the low 60s with afternoon highs in the mid to high 80s.  Carol sez - wait and see.
Anyway, the sky is clear and temp is in the low 70s.  Breakfast can wait.  We are heading for a beach on the Indian Ocean side of the island.  In town, we pass a cow that has tipped over a garbage can and is eating through the contents. Buffet meal. We seem to be retracing some of the streets we saw yesterday.  We turn the corner and what we thought was a church is actually a school.  It is 730 on Saturday and the kids are descending on the school.  A city bus turns the corner, discharging almost all of its customers; we hop on.
It is the #1 route and is headed to the Bus Station.  We are retracing some of what we did yesterday, but now for 10 R each, we can see how the bus does it.
The #1 bus lays over and then heads to the far west of Diu island, to Vanakbana, a fishing village.  A great ride.  We pass marshland, lush foliage, small settlements.  Each side road beckons.  Finally, we reach the V station.  The bus drivers points us to the beach, but that is not why we have come.
We walk through the market, remarking on and buying two strange fruits for 5 R.  They are green, with an open top.  When you peel back the skin, the fruit is in sections which are gray and powdery.  Two locals called it gimsula, or jimsula.  Later, we scoured the internet.  Zilch.  No idea what the English or Latin name for it is.  Not really good eats, either.
Down the street a few blocks and we are at the strait dividing Diu from Gujarat.  Most of the fishing boats are in.  These are dhows, with a pointed bow and full mast of sails in pastel colors.  Women are organizing their fish for sale, with purchasers picking out what they wish to purchase.  We see some piles of small fish which have been left to sit - junk fish that were caught in the act.  The seabirds are feeding away.  Better than visiting the local bird viewing center.
A sign says that yesterday, 21 Nov, was World Fisheries Day.  No idea what ceremonies we missed.  Nonetheless, this dock is a beehive of activity.
It is 900.  We see that some merchants have the large, high quality fish, while others have the smaller part of the catch.  No idea how one sorts oneself into this hierarchy, or how it might be caught.
We see a boat on dry dock.  On second look, it is adjacent to a crane. The dhow is about to be picked up by the crane, swung around 180 degrees and dropped gently into the water.  This remarkable feat only takes 4 minutes.  Lots of onlookers.
We also see an ice chipper machine with men feeding it big blocks of ice.  The small chips are going into the hold of a boat, presumably heading out to start fishing.  A hold full of ice is precious and necessary here.
By 915 we walk beyond the dock and find the beach, where we walk for a few minutes.  It is dirty with lots of feces.  While some are certainly from all the animals around, we are guessing that some of the doo-doo comes from the human shanty towns nearby.
Back into V town past a school where the girls are engaged in synchronized exercise.  We walk past a wooden dhow in the process of being built.  We see 3 or 4 gaudy Hindi mandirs (temples).  Elsewhere on the street, women are braiding palm fronds - maybe for roofing, maybe for shacks.
It is now 1015.  Soon we are back on the bus, heading back to Diu town.
Over to Ram Vijay for pizza. Rats! He has lost electricity and so we just order a few sodas.
We have not had anything to eat so back to O Coquiero. But since it is already 1130, we skip breakfast.  Time to order the Portuguese specialties: Coxido de Pesce, a Portuguese fish dish, and Fish with Tomato Gravy. Two kinds of fish, both delish. Carol buys another book: "Around India in 80 Trains." 
Two guys we saw at the restaurant last night turn out to be Israelis.  Interesting conversation.,  The parents of one came to Akko from Baghdad in 1950.  Israelis on their Indian magical mystery tour seem to have a circuit of cheapie lodging in India, complete with Israeli salad for breakfast.
As the morning has progressed it has gotten hot, so from 1245 to 1600 we are back in the hotel, writing, clothes washing, and otherwise waiting out the heat of the day (94?).  Back to the internet cafe for an hour and a half of posting.  But before that we find a tailor who restitches the loose strap on Mike's daypack.
It is now 1810, and starting to get dark.  We are not yet hungry, so we walk toward the beach.  We see flying fox bats flying across the neighborhood.  What a swarm!
After many wrong turns, we are on the Jallandhar Beach.  We could walk straight back to town, but instead we go along the beach to an old fort at the south end of the city wall.  We walk along the outside of the city wall, heading north back toward downtown.  The road takes us to the Zampa Gateway, then back to the center.
We find Ram Vijay's again, and finally get our Veg Lover's Pizza.  For 140 R it is a 6 piece personal pizza.  Good pizza and the right size for us.  Like all Indians we eat our pizza with tamarind ketchup.
Mike buys 20 cough drops.  They are sold individually at a pharmacy.  (2 R apiece).  We are both a little congested, maybe from all the air conditioning.
We do a final pack of our bags, set the alarm for 345 and 400, and get to bed.

Fri 21 Nov Diu

Fri 21 Nov Diu
Diu is at 21 N latitude, but we are feeling the "changes in attitude" full on.  It's not a part of Gujarat (ie, booze OK).  Diu and another island, Daman, are Union Territory, administered from New Delhi.
Ahhh, a quiet morning.  Our A/C had not functioned, so we were switched to an adjacent room.  We were late getting up and slow getting started.
Finally about 1000 we went back to O Coquiero for the 125 R continental breakfast: (1) lassi, (2) tea or coffee, (3) toast and butter or jam, (4) two eggs any style.  Carol ordered lassi, coffee, two eggs soft boiled, and jam for the toast.  Mike got lassi, tea, an omelet, and butter for the toast.
After breakfast we stayed put and talked for a while with Graeham, a Brit who lives in India 6 months a year in the winter, and in the UK in the summer, when he earned all of his money.  He has developed a style of living for 40 pounds ($70) a week.  Basically 250 R a day for a bed, which comes to 1750 R, and then 2250 R for everything else.
At 1130 we were off.  We had missed the cool of the morning and it was getting hot.  We started walking around Diu - so different from the rest of India.  We passed an old abandoned mansion, a Catholic church with a statute of Santo Sebastio (in deference to the island's Portuguese rule from 1535 to 1961).  We passed a pleasure park with a large tortoise statue.  Glimpsed on the street a truck for carrying locals with a painted logo of "Farrari."  Around the corner sat St. Thomas Church - no photos.  Inside were 10 posters, one for each of the ten commandments, presented in elementary school style:  "Billy took some candy," etc.
We turn the corner and we are at the Fort.  When Portugal finally secured Diu in 1535, the first order of business was to build a fort that would enable it to hold on the island permanently.  It wasn't until Nehru bombed the airport and nearby tourist areas in 1961 that Portugal released its grip on this little territory. The entrance sign states that Portugal regarded this fort and the island as its most important site in all of Asia.
We walked through the imposing fort, though not to the tippy top of some of the lookout towers. Quite an imposing structure.
Out to the street, going back to the town center.  A bus is waiting, but it pulls away as Mike is buying a glass of cane sugar juice. So we walk back toward town center.  The tourist agency is closed.  This town takes siesta seriously.  We see no buses. Eventually we are at the main bus station - no local buses.  Time to nap for all.
We walk back into the town gate, and finally downtown again.  Lunch is at Apana's Foodland, a waterfront restaurant..  Paneer Jalfrazy (160 R), seasonal veg, Gujarati style (70 R), naan (40 R), and Carol's lassi (60 R), so thick and rich that she diluted it with bottled water to drink it.
After lunch we walk into the old Portuguese quarter.  Delightful and cool. Everything is painted in sherbet colors.  In the middle is Nagar Sheth Haveli, an old merchant house so ostentatious, it even made the guidebooks.  4 or 5 turns of directions later and we are finally at A to Z Travel, an internet cafe.  Here we post the blog and copy the last 11 days of photos onto our tablet (so far the only use of this tablet.)
2 1/2 hours later we have copied and posted enough.  It is cooler.  As we walk into downtown we come on Ram Vijay Ice Cream Shop, a sweet shop dating from 1933, where all the ice cream and the carbonated sodas (Dew brand) are all home manufactured.  We try the Cream Aqua soda (12 R), and order 4 scoops of ice cream (saffron pista, cashew almond, coconut, and fig almond (30 R each). As the Rothschilds would say, "Florida (late) lunch."
Mike is still hungry, so off to O Coquiero for a plate of penne covila (penne with roasted cauliflower and lotsa garlic) (155 R).  One tea, one masala tea - total 205 R.  O Cocquiero has a collection of books (many languages) for browsing (or trade in 2-for-1). Carol buys "Wildlife in India," a steal at 150 R).
We are now in a room with a working A/C. To bed.

Girl Thoughts
(1) H2O trumps T.P. at most WCs. Men can pee (discreetly) against walls.
(2) So many amazing thick braids - some long enough to sit on. Imagine what this hair would sell for back home ...

Thurs 20 Nov On the Road . . .

Thurs 20 Nov On the Road . . .
We set our alarm for 530, but are up at 515. Showers and final packing.  At 615 we are out on the street.  We take an auto-rickshaw to the bus station for 50 R.  We arrive there at 635 and sit.  Someone points out our bus - it is not yet in position.
About 705 it pulls into position.  We load our bags and squeeze them into the rack above the seats..  Good to have our packs close.
At 715 we are off.  We cross Ahmedabad to the west, picking up as we pass into the suburbs.  We are soon out into the country on a 4 lane divided road, with a toll charged.
We see goats and cows, but no sheep.  Carol pulls out a guidebook and points to a sentence that most "mutton" in India is really "goat." Baa humbug.
What else can one say about a ride 210 km west to Rajkot and then 200+ km south to Veravel?  The trip was non A/C the whole way.  The bus was not very full until mid afternoon, when it was close to full.  We stopped twice for driver and passenger breaks and were in Veravel about 1650 (9 1/2 hours).  At the mid afternoon break, we saw "Bristly" water, again packaged exactly as "Bisleri" water.
Our driver was passing other like crazy, and passed a Diu-bound bus along the way.  We talked to almost no one. Vegging, reading, looking out the window, s-l-e-e-p-i-n-g.
At 1700 the Diu bus we had passed came in to the station.  A stroke of luck.  We boarded.  The last 90 km was scheduled to take 3 hours.  We arrived in Diu at 2030, and took a 50 R rickshaw to the hotel.  There was a recommended restaurant a block away called O Coquiero.  We had prawns in coconut sauce with rice (170 R) and fish masala (145 R).  Add in our first beer in days, a 650ml Kingfisher for 80 R (24 oz).  The tension of our travel melted away, and we had a fine finish to a very difficult day.
Ahmedabad postscript:  Several days after we leave Ahmedabad, a newspaper reports a neighborhood with a small malaria outbreak attributed to suspect water.

Wed 19 Nov Ahmedabad

Wed 19 Nov Ahmedabad
It was 740 when we hit the street.  Our hotel did not include breakfast, so we walked back to New Lucky Restaurant.  Traffic was still light, since most things don't seem to open before 10 am.  But there, in a busy street that we would fear to cross, a newspaper vendor had set up his wares in the street itself, taking up a whole "lane" of traffic.  New Lucky didn't have the breakfast items we wanted - just a lot of white bread and butter.
It was a good time to see Sidi Sayyadi Mosque, just across the street from the hotel.  Carol was not allowed in, but it is an open building - very simple and serene.  It was built in 1572-3 by an Ethiopian (Abyssinian) merchant who had come to India from Yemen.  Instead of washing faucets so one could wash before prayer, it had a washing pool - a feature that differentiates Indian Islam from other locales.
Carol wanted to show Mike some of the features of yesterday's walk, so we retraced the path she had taken before. We walked up Relief Rd toward Swaminarayan Temple, which Carol had seen but Mike had not.  Along the way, we saw artisans applying a deep pink coating to taut white thread.  The thread turns out to be kite string, and the pink coating is powdered glass, which will turn the kite string into a lethal weapon against other kites.
We stopped at the beautiful Jain temple Carol had seen the day before.  Then we saw today's Heritage Tour group emerging from the Swaminarayan Temple to begin the walk.  They recognized Carol and invited her and Mike along without additional payment. After 10 min or so, we realized that Mike had not viewed Swaminarayan and also we had not had breakfast, so we split off and went back to Swaminarayan.
Of to the back of the Temple there was something really important going on, involving flames, incense, dignitaries and an official videographer.  It was clearly not a wedding or a circumcision, but what it was is beyond us.
On the temple facade we noted tiers after tiers of  sculpted elephants doing different things, cows after cows, zebu after zebu.  This is one of the features that distinguishes Muslim architecture from Hindu architecture - you don't see natural depictions in a mosque.  So much naturalistic bas relief, reminiscent of Persepolis, done by artisans who knew their animals. In particular, there were many representations of mother animals suckling their young.
Back to the main road.  We saw crowds eating street-cooked food.  We ordered 2 plates for 15 R each. The dish turned out to be cooked, seasoned poha (small rice flakes) with some crispy things and some chana dal poured on top.  Pretty tasty - and, most importantly, hot, fresh and safe.
At the cyber cafe, we checked online the possible ways to get around Gujarat and eventually to Jaisalmer.  Airplane connections are abysmal.
Around noon, we walk over to Madhavi's project site.  On the road over, at the entrance to Bandra Fort, there is a man sitting on top of an elephant - a live elephant.  The elephant is decorated with face paint.  It has been trained to "hand over" coins put on the tip of its trunk to the trainer on top.  No political subtext.  Everyone is participating including  Carol, who puts a coin in the elephant's trunk.
At Madhavi's office we go up, but Madhavi is not there.  We talk on the phone and make arrangements to meet at 4 pm.
We walk back to the hotel, past a plaster (or plastic) elephant with chrysanthemums in its trunk.
The live elephant is still there, and we take time to take photos of adjacent Fort Bandra.
A woman vendor is selling a black fruit with a white center.  We buy 4.  Pleasant - like a cross between potato and water chestnut. Back at the hotel, the office manager tells us that the Gujarat name of this fruit is singora.  You peel off the outside shell and eat the inside. A winner.
We finally decide on the following itinerary: Go to Diu (an island in the Indian Ocean), then Sasan Gir (the lion sanctuary), Bhuj, and Jaisalmer - all by bus.  There is no day bus to Diu, so we will take a day bus to Veravel, leaving 715 the next morning.  From Veravel, there are many buses to Diu.  Time to buy our tickets.
We have hoped to see the (now no longer functional) synagogue in Ahmedabad, which we have read is located across the street from a Parsi Temple. Around the corner from the hotel is - guess what? - a Parsi Temple.  We find it but no synagogue nearby, although we look and ask around.
On the bus into town we had spotted another Parsi site. We grab a rickshaw to the Aspodia ST station to buy our tickets to Veravel.  Mike is told to say: "Mane Veravel ni 2 tickets aapo." He says that at the ticket window, and for 474 R gets his two tickets.  We have seats 4 and 5 among the three seats in the front row behind the driver.
We go out looking for a different Parsi temple we had seen on our bus into Ahmedabd.  We take a  walk up the street, past the brand new Bus Rapid Transit stations.  There are burial tombs right in the sidewalk as we walk along.  We walk without luck until we get to the train station.  It is 1515.  Time is running out.  We have found neither the Parsi temple nor the synagogue we have looked for.
During this long hot walk, we spotted a vendor selling "Blister" brand water, which is packaged exactly like "Bisleri" water, the leading brand. Ersatz designer water!
For 60 R we take an auto-rickshaw back to the hotel.  Traffic is miserable and at spots, totally congealed.  We are behind an auto-rickshaw on which someone has inscribed "I Miss You Mom."
Finally, we get off at Sidi Sayyadi, and walk the last 300 m to Madhavi's place.  The elephant is gone, but it left "evidence" of its former presence on the street.
At Madhavi's program, everything is in full steam.  Madhavi shows up.  The women workers are offered tea and biscuits at their break.  We go into a room - Madhavi and the two of us; the woman associate who runs the business hands on, and 10 women.  Each of the women is an HIV-positive widow.  A few have HIV-positive children.  They work sewing sheets together to form a bedspread, into which they stuff all sorts of random cloth pieces.  The whole thing is then stitched up.  The workers get 20 R for each blanket, which takes apx 1 hour to prepare.  The program sells the blankets for 54 R, generating some profit to continue. The workers get 20 R for each blanket, which takes apx 1 hour to prepare.  Some blankets are donated outright to the homeless.  As part of the program, the workers are given some nutritious food (crucial for PLWA - people living with AIDS), bus fare, anti-retrovirals, counseling, education, and other things to meet their needs.  Some have been provided with sewing machines they can use at home. In January the program is switching over from blankets to making brooms, which they are about to learn how to create.
As Madhavi translates, several women talk about themselves and we introduce ourselves.  They end with a sung Hindi prayer (in Sanskrit ?) which everyone knows.  This seems to be routine.
It is now 1630.  Madhavi and we go over to a nearby mandir, the Ganpati Mandir, and walk down to the shrine two floors down.  This shrine features a snake.  The main image is of an elephant-headed deity. We hug Madhavi and say our goodbyes.
Back to the hotel. At 1930 we go to the adjacent Food Inn, where we order Punjabi-style Butter Chicken and a mutton dish for dinner.
We pack for an early start the next am.
Thoughts about TRAFFIC:
Remember the film "Monsters Inc"? The source of power is children's screams; the motto is "We scare because we care." In Mumbai, Surat, Baroda and Ahmedabad, the cacophony of car horns, trucks with air horns, police whistles, and bike horns is unrelenting. So maybe the noise noise noise is what powers ... everything. The motto of urban India: "We blow so all may go." 

Tue Nov 18 Ahmedabad

Tue Nov 18 Ahmedabad
This day seemed destined to be difficult.  Mike had to take a bus back to Baroda, pick up the camera, and return. Carol had lined up a morning Ahmedabad Heritage Association tour for herself. Both of us left the hotel at 725.
Carol was headed in the right direction: up Relief St. to the start point at Swaminarayan Temple.  A small wrong turn landed her at an exquisite Jain temple with sensuous carvings.  She got her bearings and reached the large Hindu temple a few minutes after the introductory part of the tour began.
Before the walk (which turned out to cost the International Guest price of 100 R) there was an informative documentary.  The audience consisted of 6 tourists of various nationalities and about 30 local architecture students. Carol opted to join the students, which meant that both tours would be conducted in English.
We walked the walled city of Ahmedabad; specifically several "pols" (micro-neighborhoods consisting of a street with houses on both sides and entry gates.)  The guide pointed out traditional communal bird feeders, a 100+ year sewer system, and old-fashioned street lamps.  There were Hindu and Jain temples; the latter extended several floors below street level.  Much of the construction had layers of wood in it.  This was intended to provide a buffer in the event of a major earthquake, such as the one that hit Ahmedabad in 2001. The pols remained unscathed.
The Jumma (Friday) Mosque at the end was unusual: an Islamic building constructed in 1424 by Hindu and Jain artisans.  They originally added many naturalistic depictions of lotuses, vines, and other nature symbols not shown in Moslem art.  The story is that Ahmed Shah accepted many of these motifs in a spirit of ecumenical unity.
After the guide [excellent in all ways] doffed his sandals during the first temple visit, Carol noticed that he had 6 toes on one foot.  She kept on thinking about that for the rest of the walk.
After the tour ended, headed afterward toward Madhavi's office building.  After a few false turns, she found it - this morning in the middle of a roaring produce market. Up one story - no Madhavi.  So back to the hotel around 1200 to veg. A rewarding morning.
Mike headed off to the ST station near Astodia Gate for his return to Baroda.  After walking about 5 minutes, he realized from the position of the sun, that he was walking west when he should be walking southeasterly.  So back to the beginning, and then some careful walking according to the map.  Still 1 km took more than 35 min to Astodia Gate, and then another 10 min to find the place to buy the tickets.  On the bus at 825 and off.
This was the regular bus (105 R), not the AC Volvo bus (195 R).  The principal differences were: (1) that it was apx 20 min slower, and (2) it let Mike off apx 200 m closer to the SapphireRegency.
So at 1035, Mike was walking to the hotel.  They fetched the camera. He thanked them, and took a 20 R auto-rickshaw to the slightly farther terminal.  Mike had 10 min to buy a ticket, get some water, and a large Fanta orange, and get on the 1100 Volvo AC bus.  The bus got in to the Astodia terminal at apx 1240.  A 40 R auto-rickshaw, and he was back at the hotel.
The last picture Mike had taken was of the standard plate of onions and limes served at almost all restaurants.  We mocked the onions.  The onions took revenge and caused Mike to misplace the camera.  NEVER "dis" the onions!
We were back together at 1300.  Our goals were to eat lunch and visit the highly-rated Calico Museum for their 1445 (or 1500) afternoon tour.  We walked down Relief Rd, saw no restaurants, and so turned one block over into an intensely Muslim neighborhood.  We came to an eatery with the most wonderful looking chicken leg quarters cooking away on the outdoor grill, and many (male) customers inside.  We thought we ordered chicken, rice, and some of the mutton dish, and headed upstairs to the family section, where women and mixed groups eat.  The upstairs was also full of customers.  What we eventually got was a generous piece of the chicken, a plate of veg rice, and some bread.  It was plenty, since Mike was on his second day of immodium pills and was not at 100%. The meal was very tasty, and the total was only 156 R ($2.60).
Back down on the street.  It was after 1400, so we hailed an auto-rickshaw, and for 80 R and interminable traffic, we were at the Calico Museum.  We glimpsed inside the grounds, with strutting peacocks and a garden setting.
Surprise!  The tour is limited 10 and it had been booked solid for about 3 days.  What limited access to a must-see sight!  We waited to make sure everyone who had booked showed up.  While waiting, we were talking to a Brit couple who had this tourism business down to a science.  Mike mentioned the immodium.  Her reaction:  If there is any question at all, take some Cipro.  So Mike popped a Cipro pill (and was feeling better by nightfall).  When all the slots filled, we had nothing better to do than take a bus back downtown.
We hopped into our hotel room and decompressed.  Then over to a nearby internet cafe.  The guidebook said the Relief Cyber Cafe was across the street from Relief Cinema, which has been torn down.
There we posted a number of days.  Finally, trying to find dinner, we were unable to locate anything listed in the guidebook.  We ate something hardly memorable, except for the fact that while we were eating, the waiter came and took the bread we had been given off the table.  Hey! There are always so many waiters, table boys, cleaners, etc., that they ready to pounce if you neglect a plate.
Around the corner was New Lucky Restaurant, which featured shakes and juice.  Carol ordered a kesar pista milk shake and Mike a papaya shake.  Finally, something great.  Back to the room, where we wrote for a while and then to bed.
A day of more misses than hits.

Mon 17 Nov Baroda to Ahmedabad

Mon 17 Nov Baroda to Ahmedabad
Breakfast at SapphireRegency was the best to date.  In addition to the hot and cold buffet items, the chef cooks us each an omelet: Mike's with chillies, Carol's without.  Hot tea mixed with hot milk to one's taste, and a banana to go.  As we ate breakfast, we watched what could best be called a herd of cattle walk down the road and turn into an alley Presumably of their own volition, because they were not being led by anyone).  One, which we named "Mr. Frisky," took off at a gallop down the main road.
A little taxonomy here: most Indian cattle are not strictly speaking cows, but humpbacked zebu [that splendid Scrabble word]. Their wild ancestor was the now-extinct Aurochs. Zebu have a high heat tolerance and can survive on a poor diet and little water.
After breakfast, we brought down our luggage and checked out, leaving our bags at the desk.  Out to see Baroda before our trip to Ahmedabad. Around the corner was a municipal park with a planetarium, two museums, and a zoo.  For 10 R each we saw the zoo.  Mostly birds, with a few monkeys, turtles, deer, and larger animals.
The guidebooks were inconsistent about local sites..  One said Laxmi Vilas Palace was open on Monday and the other said closed.  We hopped an auto-rickshaw for 50 R, and found out it was closed.  So we increased our fare to 80 R and went to the town center.
There we walked around until we saw all four town gates.  An auto-rickshaw back to the hotel.  We made the mistake of taking it "on the meter."  It turned out to cost 230 R.
Before we left town we went up to Cafe Khyber for some lunch. Carol ordered the Mutton Chorba (120 R); Mike, the Chicken Mulligatawney Soup (100 R), and together a plate of Veg. Handi (150 R), two teas and some naan.  As at most restaurants, we were served a platter of sliced onions and limes for seasoning over food. We pushed it to the side as we photographed our meal.
NEVER "dis" the onions . . . (to be continued)
We lingered over our meal while we worked on the notes for the blog.  Finally, it was time to leave.  It was apx 1330.
We caught an auto-rickshaw to the ST bus stand, about 400 m away.  But our route took us through complicated traffic and street crossings, and 25 R fare was worth it.
Mike stood in line for 2 bus tickets for the Volvo (A/C) bus to Ahmedabad.  It was 1356 when we got tickets for the 1400 bus leaving from gate 1.  Somehow, we were able to board.
The ride was relaxing. An Indian comedy film, quite slapstick, filled most of the trip. While we were traveling, Mike realized that he no longer had his camera.  GULP. The best guess was that it was at the restaurant.  He called back to the restaurant but with no good results.
We rode to the end of the line, not realizing that we should have gotten off earlier at the Astodia ST bus stand.  So instead of a quick 40 R ride to our hotel, we had a 200 R ride (or "on the meter") from somewhere in the western suburbs to our hotel, Hotel Good Night, right opp. Sidi Sayyadi Mosque in the Lal Darwaja district downtown.  We got to the hotel at 1645, and relaxed for 45 minutes.
The hotel manager called back to Cafe Khyber. Lo and behold, they had found our camera.  Just come tomorrow after 10 am and pick it up, they said.
About 1730 we called our former Humphrey fellow from 2012-2013, Madhavi, whom we had come to know at Emory University.  She runs a program for HIV positive widows, who fabricate blankets for the homeless for 20 R per blanket, bus fare, and some food.
Her offices were about 300 m away from our hotel.  She texted us the address.  We set out and went the wrong way, finally finding her.
After she closed up shop, we three took an auto-rickshaw out to the western suburbs to meet her husband and daughter.  They prepared us a spectacular Gujarati vegetarian dinner.  We relaxed and chowed down.  There was much interesting conversation.  Madhavi urged us to eat with our hands, since the true pleasure of dining is also tactile.  Of course, there was plenty of food left.
At 2130 they walked us out to the bus stop.  Soon a bus came along taking us directly back to the hotel.

Sun 16 Nov Baroda Champaner

Sun 16 Nov Baroda Champaner
At 700 we walked to the railway station and attempted to buy tickets on the special first class train, leaving Surat 945 and arriving Baroda 1120.  (Baroda is shown on most maps as Vadodara - same town).  Unfortunately that train did not run on Sun, so we bought second class tickets on a train running 0900-1100.
Included breakfast began at 730.  Breakfast was reasonable.  There were 4 trays of hot food.  Many hotel guests chose cold cereal and milk.  We concentrated on a potato dish and some chickpeas. Throw in some fruit, juice, and tea, and we were reasonably well-provisioned.
The second class train seating is unreserved.  Each compartment has two long seats and then two upper perches, which can hold luggage, or on which people can sit.  Each lower seat is numbered for four seats but routinely holds 5 or 6 passengers.  Counting the folks above and the folks standing everywhere, you get to know your neighbor quite well, Despite our lack of common language.
Folks were kind to us, perhaps given our advanced ages.  We ended up with seats not long after we boarded.  Carol sat across from a delicious baby girl dressed in bright purple, with many arm and ankle bracelets.
Somewhere toward the end of the trip, we were loudly serenaded by a singer, drummer (who also sang), and a third fellow whose only role seemed to be collecting money.  They were quite talented, although we failed to identify the musical idiom.  There was also a female figure, perhaps a male transvestite jester, who went around amusing and cajoling passengers.  Some laughed along and gave money.  Others received a rap on the skull. STRANGE.
In Baroda, the crowd helped us get our packs and ourselves off the train, and we walked the relatively short distance to Hotel SapphireRegency.  Leaving the station involved finding an overhead walkway over the turmoil of vehicles below.
The reception desk gentleman recognized us immediately because in our phone call, he had thought we were coming in the day before.  Anyway, for 2200 plus tax = 2540 R, we got by far the nicest room so far.  The showerhead was sufficiently separated from the rest of the bathroom fixtures that the toilet seat and paper would not get routinely soaked when you took a shower.  And the breakfast was quite good.
It was apx 1145. We got to the room, unpacked, and went downstairs. Today's destination: the much lauded site of Champaner/Pavagadh for a day trip.  We declined a hotel-proferred driver for 1500 R round trip ($25), and made it there on our own.  Carol: Oy, another of Mike's do-it-yourself-for-less schemes. Mike: A driver would have saved us no more than an hour.
So, at 1245 an autorickshaw took us across town to an isolated bus shelter.  While we were waiting, some kids were playing cricket until one batter hit the ball into someone's yard.  The game seemed not to resume.
After about 20 min, a bus (32 R each) came by going through the town of Halol all the way to Pavagadh.  It was 1330.  We were on our way.
Pavagadh is a mountain rising spectacularly about 2700 ft above the flat countryside.  Some books call it a "Little Himalaya" in Gujarat.  At the very top is the 11th century Kalikamata Temple (Hindu) with a shrine to the Muslim Sadan Shah tucked away on the roof.  It is the kind of place that calls out to the supernatural in any faith
The truly devout walk the steady uphill 4 km from bottom to top.  The rest of humanity, some of whom are truly devout, take a stuffed taxi shuttle half way up, and then a rope car (cable car) most of the rest of the way.  All visitors need to walk the last 700 meters to the temple.
The problem was that it was Sunday and half of western India seemed to be here.  At 1455 we were in the rope car line, which Temple Grandin would declare not fit for beast or man. Violating every best Disney practice, it snaked back and forth under a sound-reflective metal roof.  However, no entertainment, just noise, noise, noise - crying babies and kids, rowdy visitors.
Eighty (yes, eighty) minutes later (1615) we actually got in a car for the 4 minute ride (98 R round trip).  WOW!  You get to walk thereafter.  We kept our shoes on until reaching the temple.  Carol thinks that the some of the police guards were betting on whether Mike would make it to the top.  At the top one guard insisted on a photo with us. He was gloating, probably planning to show it to his co-workers and collect on the bet.
Interestingly, like shrines we have seen all over Asia, folks tie cloth to trees and their branches, all over the top of this mountain.  Uniquely Hindu is the practice of bringing food to the temple.  In this case, vendors are selling coconuts on the trail.  Most of the visitors brought whole coconuts as offerings.  In the shrine, Carol glimpsed workers behind a screen.  They were shaking coconuts to see which one were full of milk.  She thinks that these were "recycled" to vendors.  On the way down, a worker was breaking up coconuts that didn't make the grade.  She grabbed a piece for a snack.
We were at the top at 1715, and could have walked back down the trail to the base of the rope car. We knew that the sun would set during the time it would have taken us to walk, but it turned out the trail was reasonably well lighted. At this pre-sunset hour, the line down to the rope car for the descent was even longer than that for our ascent.  While we stood in line, there were numerous police/security men with whistles and air horns that they kept blowing for some purpose or other.  Deafening. We ended up waiting for one hundred minutes in an interminable line, with nuisance whistles, and the crying of numerous exhausted kids and babies who couldn't be quieted by their parents (Carol herself was at the edge of a panic attack).  The only food we had eaten since breakfast was a cup of masala corn (20 R in the line up and 30 R in the line going down).  And not much to drink, either.
Finally, at 1915 and in the dark, we got off the rope car.  Quickly into a taxi shuttle, and then quickly into an auto-rickshaw for 100 R into Halol.  There was a bus immediately leaving for Baroda (44 R each ) all the way to the ST station, fairly near our hotel.
It was nearly 2145 when we were back in our room. Total transportation cost: 382 rupees or $6.34
The moral of the story:  We had done this day trip on the wrong day (Sunday) and the wrong time (should have started at 700 am or so).  The result was very stressful, but the constraints of our timing had sort of forced us into this. Mike was probably correct that because of the interminable waits, a pre-arranged driver surely would have charged extra for having to come back after 2030, well after dark
Back at the hotel, Carol took a shower and went right to bed.  Mike went downstairs to the hotel restaurant, Cafe Khyber, and ordered what turned out to be a spectacularly good bowl of Mutton Shorba (120 R) and a cup of tea (30 R) which they insisted on serving long after he had finished the soup. Then, to bed. 

Sat 15 Nov Mumbai to Surat

Sat 15 Nov Mumbai to Surat
Packed for an early start to Tiferet Israel for Shabbat services- no breakfast ready yet, so we each took a banana.  Off by 645.  We take the train again to Byculla.  Our instructions from last night were: "From Mahalaxmi Rwy to Sat Rasta (7 street circle), go to "Shearing Donkeys," go 50 m.  Since we were on a different train line, we were walking to Sat Rasta across a neighborhood.  We didn't see Tiferet Israel so we asked around.  No one knew.  Finally, at the circle, we asked for "Masjid (mosque) of Jews."  Bingo! Directions right away.  It turns out we were looking for "Shirin Cinema Rd."  Carol was disappointed that there were no donkeys.
This search had taken some time, and it was now close to 0800.
Unlike Knesset Eliyahu, this service had only us and our direction-giving woman friend as foreign visitors.  The service was rather exotic.  No bilingual siddur (bad news for Carol, who gets lost with 100% Hebrew).  Mike located a bilingual Chumash with very Victorian English (fun to use for Toldot with its rather <ahem> complex family story).  Congregants felt free to yell corrections for the Torah and Haftorah readers.  Carol sat next to a grandmotherly lady who provided a steady stream of drinks and eats for a chubby boy who darted over from the men.
Services were over close to 1030.  At the end, one man stood up and launched into a loud rant. There was a noisy discussion with the rest of the crowd.  Apparently he had felt that he was "dissed" by the sermon giver the previous week, and therefore, he decided not to give the sermon today, as expected by the today's congregants.
There were a few drops of rain as we left but it stopped as we walked to the Mahalaxmi Sta. on the western line, where we took the train to Churchgate Station.
We wanted to eat at Apoorva Restaurant, a Mangalorean eatery, recommended by both guidebooks, but when we got there it was closed.  So over to Apeksha again.  It was still breakfast menu only. That meant that it was still too early for the Punjabi taste food (we wanted Paneer Lahori, which was not going to be ready until 1230).  So we got South Indian morning food: a dosa and some dishes for flavor.  (222 R). A small disappointment: Evidently the breakfast hour is longer here, and lunch service starts later.
We were finished by 1200, then walked past Apoorva, which was now open - too bad, so sad.
Time to slurp down one last falooda before leaving Mumbai.  At our hotel, we picked up our bags.  About 1315 we began our walk to CST Station.  We got tickets and JUST missed the 1341 train (luckily, because the train on track 2 (designated by the ticket seller as the one we were to take) was going to the wrong destination).
A gentleman showed us how to read the alphabet abbreviations on the signs, and put us on a 1354 train to Andheri (14 stops).  We needed to get off at Bandra (10th stop). The train started off fairly empty and was quite full by Bandra.
We got off, walked off the track to the east, and discovered a big surprise.  A group of autorickshaws were there to shuttle passengers from the Bandra Rwy Sta (local) to the Bandra Terminus (intercity). It was now 1440 and our train was to depart at 1505.  Enough time to leisurely walk to track 1 and wait.
Because we are traveling second class air-conditioned reserved, we have a pair of seats waiting for us, upper and lower berth.  We throw the backpacks on the upper seat and sit on the lower seat. Across from us was a 51 yr old sociology professor coming from a seminar in Mumbai to his bome in Surat. Over the next four hours we talked about American and Indian politics.  He is doing research on the 80 million "primitives" in India (living still on the very edges of society).  He talked of his research on the Indian family.  Arranged marriages still account for 85% of all marriage, but 65% of those so married would divorce or marry someone else if they could.
He has 300 close relatives on his cellphone, including a nephew studying in Atlanta, USA, for whom he was partially responsible.  You really marry into your spouse's family and all future marriages of kin.  Such has been the nature of Indian society, but it is breaking down as young Indians head off to Mumbai, New Delhi, America, London, etc.
We arrive in Surat at 1920.  A short walk to Hotel Embassy where we checked in. The room was 1800 R + taxes = 2006 R.  The room was substantially bigger than the one in Mumbai.  Like our first hotel, the shower was not separated from the rest of the bathroom.  Thus the floor is wet after a shower, as is the toilet paper if you haven't moved it.
We looked at the hotel restaurant but it was empty and had loud music, so we walked around the corner.  Kabir Restaurant looked inviting.  So we ordered Caju (cashew) Masala, Paneer Pasanda, naan, spiced buttermilk, and salted lime soda (the latter definitely an acquired taste).  254 R bill. Tasty dishes.  We still aren't competent at picking up food with bread so we just spoon feed it, to the amusement of waiters.
Found an internet cafe 10 min before it was closing.  Adjacent to the hotel and the internet cafe were a whole string of street vendors who were prepared to cook eggs to special order.  Also a nice fancy sweets store, but no seating.
To bed.

Fri 14 Nov Mumbai Byculla

Fri 14 Nov Mumbai Byculla
8:30 small breakfast (same as usual: idli, sambal, banana, and tea).- out to see Crawford Market. We pass some government office buildings with police and guards galore. We know we are getting close to the market when we start seeing large numbers of folks carrying baskets on their heads coming toward us.  Quite a sight to see someone with eight crates stacked one atop the other
The first place we find is the fish market, a huge floor of just fish and seafood vendors. The remarkable thing was that it did not smell at all. Fresh, fresh, fresh. In India we have seen huge numbers of people whose job it is to keep things clean, wet, orderly, etc. Too bad that there were no onsite eateries.
We go out (where it was somewhat mucky), looking for the animal market, or fruit and vegetable market, or whatever.  In this direction is no market.  We turn and pop into a building, which turns out to be all electronics. A tablet vendor pulls out a no-name tablet and we start bargaining.  Finally at 2600 R ($43) we have a deal. The first deal of the morning is viewed by  sellers as a portend of the rest of the day. He won this one, thinks Carol. Probably nothing we couldn't have done in ATL.
Across the street is another market.  We enter into a dry goods section, then spices.  Carol tried unsuccessfully to match the after dinner "mouth freshener" at one vendor; close but not quite.
On to fruits and vegetables: humongous persimmons, piles of pineapples (some cut in strange and wondrous ways), papayas, strawberries in boxes, figs in wrapped packages of 12, etc.
There are pets for sale, including mice.  A cage of small turkeys was just between two cages of pet birds, so when the vendor provided water to the birds, the turkeys went absolutely crazy trying to get some of the dripping water.
Finally to the meat market, where butchers were killing and cleaning chickens, and dismembering smaller animals with big curved knives.  We saw the cat stalking the rat here.  Perhaps we were too late.  This section of Crawford Market seemed fairly small.
We are through with the market.  Back to the CST railway station, past a barber shaving a customer on the sidewalk.  An 8 min wait to buy 2 second class 5 R tickets to Byculla, a section of the city 3 stops (8 min) to the north.
A train is pulling away.  We hop onto a First Class compartment and quickly change to Second at the next station.  This time of day (10:30) (the end of the morning rush hour), the southbound trains are still crush loaded, but the northbound trains are relatively empty.
At Byculla we are out and walking.  A km or less, we are in a mostly Muslim neighborhood.  Lots of tailors for men and women. We pass a parking area with signs: "No Parking in Front of Gate" and "No Parking for Outsiders Tyre will be Deflated."
We turn the corner and find Magen Hasidim, one of the several still functioning Bnei Israel synagogues.  For 200 R (100 R to enter, 100 R to photograph) we are in this beautiful synagogue.  It is the newest synagogue in Mumbai, having been built 83 years ago.  Synagogues come in two flavors: Bnei Israel, dating from the original Jews who came 2000 years ago (?); and Baghdadi or Iraqi Jews who came in the 1800s.  The most famous of these were the Sassoon family, who dominated trading in the India, China area for well over a hundred years.
At this time (1200) Carol notices that Mike's pants had torn in the seat.
There are vendors with all sorts of vegetables needed for daily cooking, including greens of all types, which we had not previously seen. We've passed the tailors.
On towards Mumbai Central Station, looking for lunch and some pants.  At a stand, Mike stops to get two samosas for 10 R each.  What he is actually getting is two plates.  The samosa itself is crushed and covered with piles of stuff to make something like a bhel puri chaat.  Carol didn't want much of this, so Mike was stuffing himself for 20 R (33 c).  Next door was a sugar cane juice vendor.  He was squeezing the cane, then running it through again and again to get out all the sweetness.  On some of the passes, he also added a lime or two for flavor.  Two cups of really good juice (10 R each) later, we were on our way.
According to bystanders, a pants store was that way, or rather this way.  After a few false starts, we are in an actual haberdashery.  Mike tries on two pairs selected by the clerks, and picks one for 2050 R ($35 - American prices, but a really good fit and fabric).  During this process, Carol has been talking with a Gujarati relative of the shopkeeper, who turns out to be the owner of a motel in Duluth MN. He's home to visit family. We "talk Minnesota" for a while. He tells her about a trip down I-35 though Kansas to Texas. This gentleman gives Mike a Coke.  We relax there for a while.
Finally, it is off back to the hotel.  A 61 or 66 bus will take us to CST and Fort.  A 61 comes along.  We are riding along, and Carol says Stop, Get Off.  Her finely tuned "Zoroastrian Detector" has triggered and we walk into a Fire Temple.  This turn out to be an old Parsi neighborhood.  Anyway, we snap a few pictures before a nice gentleman comes out and politely gives us a bum's rush out of the place. Carol parries with her Iran visa. No dice. No Non-Parsis Allowed, Ever!!  He says that the local government wants to be sure that no non-Parsis are converted. He asks about our religion. When he learns that we are Jewish, he adds that our faiths are similar, but we still have to leave.
Across the street is another Parsi Temple.  Again. No, No, No.  It is now 1500. We walk for a few blocks, walking into a student library building.  Then we catch a bus (66) back to the hotel.
Inside we decompress while Mike tries to get the tablet to work.  30 minutes later and he has Blogger working, but with clumsy thumbs it is too hard.  We relax.
Finally, about 1745 we get up to go to Friday night services at Knesset Eliyahu.  First, a stop at a neighborhood soda shop for falooda, a special kind of ice cream.
We finally arrive at 1825 for "1830" services, which are well underway.  We sit down (men on one side, women on the other [not upstairs]) with a few locals and lots of foreign visitors. A group of Australian women are on some kind of Federation visit. The Chabad rabbi was there, to lead a rousing version of L'Cha Dodi, pulling the men into a hora. Some women dance, too.
Nathaniel, a Mumbai native who had lived in Atlanta, and with whom Carol had communicated, came over and introduced himself.  After services, he invited both of us downstairs for a Shabbat dinner.  About 17-18 of us around a table, 6 or 7 local, the rest visitors (the Aussies have headed off). Three sisters from South Africa, etc.
After challah, a great Indo-Jewish feast: chicken meatballs in gravy to start, then chicken and potatoes, several veggies, rice, Indian breads. After, a platter of fresh fruits: chikoo, papaya, pineapple, watermelon.
One woman invited us to services at Tiferet Israel the next morning in Mahalaxmi, beginning at 7 am.
It is 2000. Back to the hotel to pack for an early start the next am.

Thurs 13 Nov Mumbai

Thurs 13 Nov Mumbai
We get going a little after 9 am; we are slowly adjusting to local time.  Today we are playing tourist and going to the historic caves on Elephanta Island. It is about 2 km to the docks in Colaba, the seaside neighborhood where the boats leave. We get there a little before 1000.  We are pointed to a ticketseller who is selling boat tickets for 160 R each.  We walk through the first boat to the second, sit down and wait. 
A pair of passengers identify themselves as Israelis from Nazareth.  We think they are perhaps Arabs, but later learn that they are local Mumbai Jews who emigrated to Israel many years ago and are now coming home to visit.
The boat ride takes about an hour.  The breezes are wonderful, the sea birds swoop. It is hazy, so the views of Mumbai and the island are hazed over.
Finally we land. There is a little choo-choo at the landing; more of interest to families. To get to the caves, the trail passes through a gauntlet of tchochke sellers and random monkeys.  We walk up 100 steps, pay 250 R each to get in (10 R for Indians) and see cave 1.  This cave has dozens of Shivas and Buddhas, some in better shape than others.  Like Dunhuang and Lijiang in China, the figures are carved into the rock - that is, rock is removed leaving only the stone carvings.  Time has not treated these carvings well, as they are missing legs, arms, torsos, occasionally the face.  Supposedly the Portuguese soldiers used some of them for target practice. Still and all there are enough good carvings left to make this a fabulous visit.
Caves 2, 3, and 4 are more decayed and fairly disappointing.  We didn't find cave 5 because the path started heading back downhill.
We see some locals transporting dung or soil on donkeys.
On the back to the boat we passed most of the vendors, including one selling "Neckless"es.  Carol suggested that perhaps the goods weren't Indian, but knockoffs (? from Bangladesh?).  Our one purchase was a 50 R bus book with a list of the routes of all the buses, and a simple map of the city. Useful if not crafty.
But the guy with water beckoned, and we stopped for 2 liters of bottled water, a 7 Up, and a spiced buttermilk.  Also we each bought ears of corns from another vendor.  The corn was burnt over the fire and then rubbed with lime and spice masala.  We have seen ears of corn for up to $3 in other countries. However, in this place of a captive tourist audience they were only 20 R, or 33 c each.  Perfectly yum.  Best buy on the whole island.
On the boat ride back to Colaba, we talked to a Korean ophthalmologic surgeon, who was in India for a conference in Jaipur, and stopped over for 2 days in Mumbai for a look-see.
All during this trip, the cell phones were out for selfies.
After landing, we walked out and into the famous Taj Mahal Hotel, where the other half stays (and the terrorist attacks occurred).  We looked at a menu where we could have eaten if the prices were divided by 10.
Out for a walk through Colaba, which has a heavy Muslim merchant feel and tourist overlay. Then we took a bus back to the Fort area. It got rather full, leaving us with a real push to get off.  It is a bit unsettling not knowing whether you will be able to get off at your stop.
It was apx 1530, and we decided to walk north to Crawford Market.  We were both hungry, not having had lunch, so when we passed a madrassa, with a bustling lunch counter for the kids, we stopped.  We asked permission to enter, bought 2 sherpuris (snack food rather like a bhelpuri chaat) for 20 R each.  The sweetest boys imaginable were manning the ice cream section.The drink stand was out of falooda, so we got a black currant ice cream cone for 35 R.
Just north was the Sir J J Art Institute. Inside was a big crowd.  We went in to see what was happening.  A sculptor was about to sculpt (in one hour) the head of an 80 yr old woman. She had sat 60 years ago for a different sculptor, who also produced a work in one hour.
The clock started, and an hour (or a bit more) later, the sculptor had finished.  Not a bad likeness. We stood near the model chair and bonded with the woman (perhaps because we were the only older people in the crowd). It was a fascinating event.
By this time it was 1715, and we decided to skip the Crawford Market for today.  We walked back toward CST.  To the south we passed a book stall with a 10 R list of the local train times.  The 50 R book from this am was only 35 R, but, oh well.
Next door were a Harry Potter book in Hindi (165 R) and one in Marati (299 R).  We bought the Hindi book and passed on the Marati book, the languages being somewhat similar.
As we walked along, one vendor looked to have tablets.  He didn't, but his friend 4 or so blocks away did.  But he started the price at 5000 R ($83), which was what we could get a name brand for in the US, so we walked away.  By this time, we had passed by our turn off for our dinner place, so we walked around unsuccessfully, until we refound our SIM vendor, refound the street to turn on, and finally found our restaurant.
It had an air conditioned side, and a non AC side.  No extra charge for AC.
After so much vegetarian food, we had mutton thali (230) and prawns thali (200) and a mch appreciated65 cl (big) Kingfisher lager (225).  Some of the individual cups of food in the thali were not our liking, including a strange cold purple soup, but the mutton was fabulous, and shrimps quite tasty.  After dinner you get a small dish of breath fresheners, called mukhwas.  The sweet mukhwas here was so good that Carol took a small bag home with her.
Back to the hotel and to bed.

Wed 12 Nov Mumbai

Wed 12 Nov Mumbai
Up at 5:30 am (but 7 pm according to our bodies).  Mike has sort of slept.  Carol hardly at all.  In the early morning we use the computer in the hotel foyer.  As we do so, a staff member hangs a chrysantemum wreath on the devi's portrait.  Then small bells are sounded and an incense stick in the main altar is lit.  Thus starts the business day.
Breakfast at 8:30 is idli (steamed rice cakes) with a chutney sambal and milk tea.
We go out walking.  We have three goals - buying a SIM card for the phone; purchasing train tickets to Surat for Saturday 15 Nov; and changing more money.
As we walk, we see our first holy cow. A block later, the first rat.
Our initial accomplishment was buying a SIM card for only 400 R ($6.67).  We had to go around the corner for copies of our passport and visa, and fill out a whole bunch of official government forms.  But it was done.  However, the phone was not going to be activated until 8 pm; come back then for the final steps.
We visit the Monetary Museum, a really good comprehensive history of India, from 3500 BCE, through the Greeks, Mongols, Mughals, Brits and other European colonizers, Partition, and more recent events. Beautiful coins.  So much personnel - guards and unnecessary runners.  Loved the air conditioning in the museum after the already wilting heat of mid morning.

While inside the Monetary Museum, we heard chanting outside.  When we went outside, we saw the reason: crowds of bank workers had gone on strike, and were marching in the streets (to government offices?) snarling the already-impossible traffic something fierce.  So, almost no banks are open today.
Someone suggested we change our money at Thomas Cook.  We went in - the rate wasn't very good, so we didn't do any business.  Two interesting observations, though. There was as sign with an arrow pointing to the "MICE" room (Meetings, Interviews, Conference, Expositions, or something like that.)  Carol went to the restroom where there were signs: "Kindly dispose the used sanitary napkin/pad only in the concept unit."  [concept unit?!?] "Paper towels only for hands/face.  Kindly do not use for shoes/feet."
On the street there are vendors crushing cane to make sugar cane juice, cutting up coconuts for their milk and meat, preparing artistically-arranged plates of cut up fruit, frying somosas and all sorts of little fried things.  Mumbai is street food heaven.
Someone points out a money changer: signed Western Union Forex.  The rate is 60 R to the dollar - the best we have seen so far.
Our lunch is at Apeksha Rest, 27, Muddanna P. Shetty Marg, Fort.  Pure veg, business clientele.  We had paneer burji (85 R), veg. Korma (85), 2 buttered naans (45 each), buttermilk (16 and just the right beverage), ginger lime soda (26) and for dessert, a drink made from cold coffee with ice cream (70).  The total was 373 R ($6.25).  A real find.  Everything was delicious.
After lunch we visited Knesset Eliyahu Synagogue, built by the Baghdadi Jews and David Sasson, part of the Sasson family which dominated trade in Bombay, Calcutta, and Shanghai throughout the 19th century.
So by 3 pm we have accomplished all three goals plus eating a good lunch.
On the way back to the hotel we pass through Horniman Park, a circular park the Brits laid out very early.  Two comments: (1) much of this part of Mumbai was laid out with broad avenues, parks, fountains, etc.; and (2) a huge number of the buildings have Parsi roots.  Parsis were Zoroastrians who left Persia starting in the 8th century, when Persia became Islamic.  Many came to the western coast of India and became prosperous.  Although their numbers are disappearing because of thie refusal to accept new blood by marrying out, their past infludence is everywhere in Mumbai.
More cows equals more cow poop.
By 1530 we are back in the hotel, totally soaked in sweat.  We take off everything, hang it up, and sleep for 2 hours.  Our stuff is dryer after our respite so we put on almost dry, rather salty, clothing, and go out. 
First, east into Ballard Estates, a newer development (from about 1900). Then, as it gets dark, up along a couple of market streets. 
A working-man vegetarian restaurant beckons, Om Ganesh Ratan Veg Rest, 7, Perin Nariman St, Gate Bazaar.  We go in and each get a "Special Thali" for 70 R apiece, along with a "Chaas," which is cumin spiced buttermilk, and a salted lassi.  A thali is a large plate of food with a number of small dishes - in this case alu (potato) mutter (peas), alu methi (fenugreek), chana (chickpea) masala, jeera (cumin) rice, yellow dal (lentils), paratha and chapatti.  Not special, but quite filling.  The place only wanted 132 R.  Mike pointed out that we had 2 drinks, but 132 was all he wanted - less than half the price of lunch.
If you eat this way, it is hard to spend more than $5 a person a day.  Even with meat, seafood, and drinks, you don't get much more than $10 a person a day.
After dinner we headed back to the vendor who had sold us the SIM card, because it needed to be activated.  Our phone would not activate, so he took out our SIM card, placed it in his phone and got it working.  But our phone stubbornly refused to cooperate.  It was a 2-SIM phone.  Finally, he removed the other SIM card (from our Romania trip), put the India SIM card in the #1 position, and finally got it to work. 
It was now 2045.  We shook hands goodby, and walked back to the hotel.  One the way back, we passed a juice bar and decided on juice from the "grenade fruit."  Its real name is "custard apple" or "sitafel" in Hindi. 
To bed.

The Flight

The Flight
We get to the airport on MARTA at 1345.  The flight to Newark is due to arrive a bit over an hour late.  United says we have plenty of time and refuses to rebook us on an earlier (Delta) flight. While we wait in Atlanta we try to guess which other passengers might also be headed to Mumbai.
The flight to Newark is uneventful.  Mike is sitting next to a NJ town garbage collector whose hobbies include cooking food with Indian spice flavorings.  Carol is sitting next to nobody talkative.  Anyway, we arrive in Newark at 1855, with 1:15 to spare.  This is plenty of time for us:  but for our bags . . .?  At this gate, we are finally in India Central.
United 48 ends up leaving 30 min late.  Our flight goes over Norway, Sweden, Finland, Siberia, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Kabul, Pakistan, and western India -- very far from eastern Ukraine.  The 777 has more legroom than any plane we have been on in years.  Even though the flight is for a night-day-night plane, the flight attendants ask every passenger to keep the windows closed from the get-go.  No tempting films, so we get 8 hours of good sleep. 
We both awake with 4 1/2 hours of the 15 hour flight left.  We head out of our seats.  We talk with several Indians who are (a) long term American residents, seeking permanent residency and eventual citizenship, and (b) Indians back to visit family for various reasons.  One man talks of the Indian elections as being a choice between murderers (BJP and Modi) and thieves (Congress).  Another talks of the "Obama wave," and that eventually, Indians and others will be seen to be very conservative, if only the Republicans can control themselves, and resist saying that immigrants don't belong in the US and should all go home, post haste.  A woman with a new baby is taking a multi-month hiatus from working and Columbus OH is about to become too cold.
Any way, the flight lands at 2210 on Tuesday.  We go through customs easily, pick up our bags (which were actually on our plane!), get money (10000 R = $167) from an ATM (the moneychanger booth is too expensive).
To get into town, you prepay for a taxi to the hotel (the guidebook says 500 rupees for a trip, but it turns out to be 800 R at 61 to the dollar).
Off we go with our backpacks tied on top and the straps flapping in the wind.
It is hard to have first impressions in the dark.  We see flashes of tall buildings and long stretches of 2-3 story residential/commercial.  Some people out and about or sleeping outside.  At one point, there is a strong smell of sulphur.
The driver finds the hotel (Traveller's Inn on 26 Adi Marzban Path, Fort) just after midnight.  It is locked tight and dark, but soon someone comes down and opens up.  We have a small room with A/C and shower that leaves water all over the entire bathroom.  And to bed, as best as we can.  (It is 1:30-2:00 pm in the afternoon in Atlanta).

Travel Plans

Travel Plans
We are traveling United 721 , leaving Atl 1526 and arriving Newark 1730, and United 48, leaving Newark 2010 on Mon and arriving Mumbai 2140 on Tue.  We will be returning  16 Dec.
We chose this time and season because it fit best into our schedule.  The guidebooks all say the best time to visit India, except extreme north, is Nov - Mar.  The monsoon has ended, and it is cooler.  However, weather.com on 7 Nov shows Mumbai afternoon temps of 35-36 degrees (95-97 F).  Ditto for Ahmedabad.  Diu on the water:  only 33 degrees (92 F) but 27 degrees (80 F) in the AM. So much for cool - this is the kind of weather where your clothes are soaked with sweat by 2 PM and the salt from your sweat is in your eyes.  The guidebooks should say the best time to visit is Dec - Feb, the same thing they would say about Hell.  Or, maybe more accurately, the best time to visit is Jan 10-12 of each year.
Note: in 2009 Carol demurred about going to Shanghai for the eclipse during the months of July and August.  Wise choice: on the second day in Shanghai the temperature reached 104 F.   In 2012 Carol decided that she had seen enough deserts for quite a while, and let Mike go solo to Iraq.

No Taj Mahal This Time

No Taj Mahal This Time
40% of the world population lives in China and India.  How can you visit the world without going to both places?  Neither has a civil war currently and neither is preventing Americans from getting visas.  And we like the food.  We've been to China, so India here we come.
We decide to split India into 5 parts, west, south, north, east, and far east, not necessarily in that order.  East and far east will include Bangladesh and Myanmar, and maybe Sikkim and Bhutan, so far as possible.  South will include Sri Lanka.
The first trip will be "west," including Mumbai and Maharashtra, Gujarat and Ahmedabad, the southern part of Rajasthan, and some of Madhya Pradesh.

So now we are on Trip #1.  When we describe our itinerary, it invariably receives the following response: "You are, of course, going to see the Taj Mahal."  No, we say, that is in the north trip.  Similarly, we hear: "You are, of course, going to Kerala."  No, that is in the south trip.  As it is, 35 days (about as long as we can stand to vacation) is barely enough to see what we are trying to see.

Mike is trying to learn 100-200 words of Hindi.  Most folks don't know that India has apx 22 official languages. Hindi is a second language in major parts of where we are going, incl. Gujarat, where Gujarati is the first language, then Hindi, then English.  Hindi is also a second language in Maharashtra outside of Mumbai, where Marati is the first language, etc.  There are major parts of south India where Hindi is hardly spoken at all, but that is a subject for another trip.

A final thought:  In the book of Esther, King Ahashverosh ruled from Hodu (India) to Cush (Ethiopia).  So now is certainly the time for Hodu.