Slept until 11.00 due to a misunderstanding about whether or not I wanted to be woken up for breakfast. I dozed and stirred for ages waiting for the eight o'clock alarm call.
Breakfast was almost lunch by the time we got to The New Apollo, our favourite restaurant around the corner. Olly and I both had tasty vegetable curries, but forgot to order rice as we were so used to biryanis.
After brunch we set off walking to the station. On the way we saw a bar selling London Pilsner for Rs.22 so we indulged.
The area around the Victoria Terminus is really quite bad. Hundreds of people live on the pavement under tents fashioned from oily sacks. The area reeks of bacteria; disease must be rife.
Purchasing two 2nd-class singles to Vasco da Gama was a real problem. The whole operation took nearly an hour. The staff behind the counter were almost too busy processing the sackfuls of unnecessary paperwork to sell any tickets at all. When they did get around to it, there was yet more paper-shuffling to watch. They took down all sorts of essential information, such as our sex, age, passport number, and address.
The Indians are specialists in pointless bureaucracy. Even withdrawing money on my Visa card at a bank involved queuing up to obtain an authorisation signature from the bank manager .
On the way back from the station, we turned down some cocaine offered by a man loitering in the oily sack district, but stopped at the bar for a well-earned beer.
On the way back to our luxury hotel, we popped into a barber shop. I paid Rs.6 for a shave and Olly splashed out Rs.12 on a haircut. More money than sense, obviously.
A little later on, it was time for our evening meal. We decided to find somewhere different, variety being the spice of life and all. Quite near the SA we found a place that seemed quite upmarket looking from the outside. When we stepped inside, we saw the wolf within the sheep's clothing. It was very basic and very gloomy. Nevertheless, we sat down and waited (ages) for a couple of menus.
We ordered a couple of vegetable dishes along with naan bread and biryani rice. To our dismay, the meals materialised almost within seconds. Everything was lukewarm at best. Here was our chance to cut our losses and leave, but, instead, we tucked in.
My vegetable dish was utterly gross—completely inedible. The rice was too cold to enjoy, but the naan was OK until I discovered something doing a first-rate impersonation of a cockroach antenna embedded in it.
After Olly had finished eating his equally unsavoury meal, we left hurriedly and went straight back to The New Apollo. Here the food was excellent, though a little more expensive (Rs.44 for both our meals).
Breakfast was almost lunch by the time we got to The New Apollo, our favourite restaurant around the corner. Olly and I both had tasty vegetable curries, but forgot to order rice as we were so used to biryanis.
After brunch we set off walking to the station. On the way we saw a bar selling London Pilsner for Rs.22 so we indulged.
The area around the Victoria Terminus is really quite bad. Hundreds of people live on the pavement under tents fashioned from oily sacks. The area reeks of bacteria; disease must be rife.
Purchasing two 2nd-class singles to Vasco da Gama was a real problem. The whole operation took nearly an hour. The staff behind the counter were almost too busy processing the sackfuls of unnecessary paperwork to sell any tickets at all. When they did get around to it, there was yet more paper-shuffling to watch. They took down all sorts of essential information, such as our sex, age, passport number, and address.
The Indians are specialists in pointless bureaucracy. Even withdrawing money on my Visa card at a bank involved queuing up to obtain an authorisation signature from the bank manager .
On the way back from the station, we turned down some cocaine offered by a man loitering in the oily sack district, but stopped at the bar for a well-earned beer.
On the way back to our luxury hotel, we popped into a barber shop. I paid Rs.6 for a shave and Olly splashed out Rs.12 on a haircut. More money than sense, obviously.
A little later on, it was time for our evening meal. We decided to find somewhere different, variety being the spice of life and all. Quite near the SA we found a place that seemed quite upmarket looking from the outside. When we stepped inside, we saw the wolf within the sheep's clothing. It was very basic and very gloomy. Nevertheless, we sat down and waited (ages) for a couple of menus.
We ordered a couple of vegetable dishes along with naan bread and biryani rice. To our dismay, the meals materialised almost within seconds. Everything was lukewarm at best. Here was our chance to cut our losses and leave, but, instead, we tucked in.
My vegetable dish was utterly gross—completely inedible. The rice was too cold to enjoy, but the naan was OK until I discovered something doing a first-rate impersonation of a cockroach antenna embedded in it.
After Olly had finished eating his equally unsavoury meal, we left hurriedly and went straight back to The New Apollo. Here the food was excellent, though a little more expensive (Rs.44 for both our meals).
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