Never say never

Years ago, an ex-boyfriend and I were talking about trips we’d like to take. He mentioned that he’d like to go to India. My reply to his revelation was something along the lines of “if India is the last place on earth, I don’t think I would want to go”. It just never occurred to me as a place to take a vacation or visit. To me, I’d rather be surrounded by beautiful beaches or amazing waterfalls.

After breaking up with him, I changed jobs and my new job came with the opportunity to travel. Imagine my surprise when my first trip was to India! (Life never ceases to be ironic) Though it had never been a draw for me to go before, I jump at the opportunity to go anywhere and go with an open mind.

I landed in Bombay (or Mumbai as it’s now officially called though all the locals still refer to it as Bombay) at 3am on October 27, 2005. After travelling nearly 24 hours, I walked out of the airport and nearly all of my senses were attacked at once! My glasses fogged up, the air smelled like a landfill and I was being yelled at and accosted by people from every which way offering me hotels, taxis and to take my bags. It was like a foreshadowing of things to come of my time spent in India.

It was my first business trip and only my 2nd time travelling alone (the first being to Bolivia in 2000) I don’t get intimidated easily, so I wasn’t all that afraid. When I walked out of the airport (If you don’t have a plane ticket, you’re not allowed to go into the airport, this is checked by security guards at the entrance verifying you have a ticket) I was to meet someone who I met once for about 2 minutes. There was no sight of him. After 10 minutes of manoeuvring the crowd and avoiding everyone accosted me, I went to the rep of the hotel I was staying in. They checked my reservation and it was made for the next night. I had no room. Luckily, they were able to find me a room and accommodate me.

A few hours later, I woke up in my room at the Hyatt. The room was amazing. Beautiful marble floors, modern décor and a comfy bed with enough pillows for a small village. The cost of hotel rooms in Bombay is astounding. The cost of that room was over US$300. The cost of rooms in Bombay was second only to Paris and London. And, because nothing works fast in India, the demand of hotel rooms far exceeded the supply, hence the prices.

The first thing I did after waking up was open the bedroom curtains to see what view I had. I think I figured out why all international flights landed and took off in the wee (dark) hours of the morning. Before me, was the largest slum in the world. As far as the eye can see, all you could see were huts made of cardboard with kids playing with chickens in the dry mud barefoot. I was shocked.

I knew that there was a large amount of poverty in India and because I had been to Bolivia before, thought I was prepared for it. As many places as I’ve been to since, nothing can prepare you for the poverty in India, specifically Bombay.

The city is about 600 sq km, or about the size of San Francisco. It’s the 2nd most populated city in the world. Officially, the population is somewhere around 14 million (but likely closer to double that) Getting from the airport to downtown (about 20km) can easily take 2 hours (even 3 in rush hour)

A condo in Juhu beach (an upscale trendy area with lots of Bollywood types) can easily run in the US$500K. Cover at the disco at the Marriott is US$25. Yet, there is by far more poverty here than any other place I’ve been to. In Bombay, I’ve seen a woman bathe her child in an open sewer, seen lepers on the street begging for money and a 4 year old girl weaving in and out of traffic selling bootlegged English books.

I have never felt such guilt in all my travels than the time I’ve spent in Bombay. While I have a nice comfortable life, there are millions (just in that city) with no access to running water, entire families sleeping in a cardboard shack on the side of the road and kids who will never be able to go to school. The only thing separating me between that lady bathing her kid in the sewer is fate. And, in the 5 times I’ve been to Bombay, I’ve never been more thankful of my life.