Day 9: Newfound respect for Food Courts!

There are few things that bring me to greater despair than being the captive audience of the food court at a mall. In the United States. The very sight of fast food cash registers and characterless counter tops doling out large portions of terrible food from the likes of Sbarro's, something or the other called 'Peking Wok', the atrocity that is the local 'Taste of India', and wait for it, McDonalds, is just hard on my food-loving soul.

But a food court in India... I'd be happy to buy some property and just settle down in one of those. Observe Exhibit A to the right - the food court at the Inox, Nariman Point. Observe, and weep. For this is what us phoren types are missing. Kabab Company, Bombay Blue, Simply Sizzlers, some place selling Indianized Lebanese food, Swati Snacks. Biryani, bhel puri, gelato. Under one crowded roof. I looked around jealously at the office crowd lunching there - suited I-bankers, traders, clerical staff, my mother!

As I shoveled down a 'Maharaja Chicken Sizzler' and some Bombay Blue chicken, I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like if I worked for say, a McKinsey at their Express Towers office, and walked over to Inox for lunch on a Friday. Now there's a thought. Bunty Mundra, you and your people listening?

This was also my last trip to SICOM, where the mother of mine has worked for 34 years. Or is it 32. After 30 it's just one big, unbelievable number anyway. But yeah, I'll miss visiting her there. So here's a commemorative picture of a financial curiosity she has in her office. Yes, it's a half-bull-half-bear. (I bet South Park would have an outrageous and creative term for this critter).

So, watched a movie at Regal, Colaba after possibly 10 years. Band Baaja Baarat. Strictly average movie. But it wasn't bad. And these days, 'wasn't bad' is the new 'I didn't totally hate myself for spending three hours in there'. But really, not bad. Entertaining. Liked the music. And the girl is cute. Does anyone know if she's single, and reads some of the less popular travel/food blogs, and wouldn't mind terribly moving to Ann Arbor? She can't dance though. Not very well anyway. Not without some dance lessons. Oh, wait, there's another idea.

I don't know how spending Rs. 250-300 on mediocre movies is justified. Rs. 70 at Regal is such a good deal. Also, if you know how I can use the new Rupee symbol in a blog instead of the dorky 'Rs.', let me know?

Day 8: Phoren for lunch, Konkani for dinner

The day started with the mandatory romp to FabIndia, Pali Hill. After the usual cursing about the selection, and expected sticker shock, I came away with one thing. But that's not important. What's important was that Pali Hill, Bandra is still as nice as it used to be. And it's amazing that I still remember all the lanes and shortcuts to get around. Guess that's because it's from a time in my life when I wasn't old and decrepit and didn't need a blog to help me remember fun stuff.

[The term 'phoren return' (pronounced exactly like that) carries with it a certain negative connotation, if only in a joking manner. And that term kinda applies to me. So I will embrace its use.]

A few of us phoren-return (you don't use the more appropriate plural form, because that would be err.. appropriate) met for lunch at a place called Yellow Tree near Pali Naka. Cute place. Phoren-sounding fare. Not really pretentious, which is good.

On the right is grilled rawas. With lemon coriander sauce. Not bad at all. Two things clearly stood out though: a guava juice mocktail, and grilled garlic prawns. If you go here, get both. Don't leave Yellow Tree without them. Here's a shot of Varun clearly delighted by the guava thingie. Chilli powder and spices in the mix, salt on the rim, refreshing guava flavour. Hits. The. Spot.

Of course, such a meal needed to be followed up by a cutting chai at a regulation filthy, roadside chai ki dukaan with Ryan and Chhab (who was  clearly too phoren to drink some), so we made that happen.

Dinner time? Konkan Kinaara with the mother. For those who have never been to a Konkani place and had the thali, you should take a minute of silence at your laptops, and repent. Seriously guys, especially if you've lived in Bombay. Make it happen.
Most places serve thalis (these aren't the unlimited kind, btw) that follow the format:
-Meat of choice in curry
-A wati (read: cute stainless steel bowl) of the same curry, sans meat
-Sol kadhi (what I will ask for as my last wish if I were to ever face a firing squad)
-Choice of chapati or wade (To order chapati instead of wade is to fail. Unless you know you have arterial blockage, in which case, you should not be reading anything I write)
-Rice

Here's my philosophy for ordering thalis at Konkani/Malwani restaurants in Bombay:
Fish thali - Will have the spiciest gravy (too spicy for most aliens), but the best meat
Mutton thali - Will have the best, most flavorful gravy, but the meat will be.. alright
Chicken thali - Will have milder gravy, and the meat will be.. why the HELL would you order chicken when there's fish and mutton and prawn and crab on offer? What were you thinking! Some people...
Crab thali - Curry falls between the muttony stuff and fishy stuff. Crab meat is clearly the best, but I'd rather have what my momma makes at home.
I recommend getting some kind of fish thali (fried or curried), but asking for a wati of mutton curry instead of spare fish curry, and getting wadas instead of chapati (order extras). And order up one or two extra watis of sol kadhi anyway, because, puns aside, it will quench your soul.

Day 5: Tibb's Frankie, Apoorva and Goregoan??

When the world is about to end and humanity is voting pairs of things onto an ark (this is one among several random end-of-world scenarios that I imagine up), I would urge you all to save one thing in particular: Tibbs Frankie.

When you start with a roti base that is already ensconced in egg, fill it up with with raw red onion, masala and tava chicken goodness, and then liberally apply amchur, you get.. divinity. Shivaji Park Tibbs Frankie is about as close as I've gotten to a religious experience. Your mileage may vary.

The Bearded One & I found our tava chicken frankies quite delightful.

Little known fact: (Until you Google it, that is) Tibbs was started by a certain Amarjit Singh Tibb, inspired by Lebanese food. Really?

Day 4: Newspapers, really bad wine, and Shivaji Park poker?

The following is HEAVILY paraphrased for umm.. brevity. Yeah, brevity. Let's go with that.
Ajay: "Tim! I'm back. What's cooking?"
Tim: "There's jive dancing at Bandra gymkhana, and is arranging a Big Band"
Ajay: "Live music and dancing with a bunch of Bandra macs on Christmas night? DONE!"

Unfortunately, it remained undone. Later that night we found out it was a ticketed event. And like anything popular in Bombay, it was impossible to get into at the last moment without some serious pull. And I don't even have light pull. Never mind.

Quick side note. Newspapers with chaha. Lots of 'em. I hope this never changes.

Packed agenda today. Romp around Kabootar Khana and Kirtikar market with the Mamma. I had ganneka ras (Sugarcane juice. Sigh. Ya'll better learn Hindi. You know who you are. Get on it right away. Don't make me type more than I already do?).. anyway, ganneka ka ras at a place that had NO flies. ZERO. None. I don't even know they did it. Sugarcane -> flies. That's nature. But there you have it, flie-less.

Hit up a place called Ivy in Worli. I wanted to try some more locally produced wine. See.. don't go there. The wine is by Indage. And it's no good for anything except a heavy buzz. The Shiraz we picked breathed like it was busy turning into acetone mid-consumption. On a phone call in the interim, the Bearded One chastizes me for even trying. Indage = bad he says. Sula > Indage he says. What's wrong with me, he says. Okay. Fine. I won't do it again. (I really won't)

Short stint at Worli seaface. If there is peace to be found amidst the crowd, there it is. Vies with parts of Bandra for my favourite spot in Bombay. So far on this trip, it's winning.

Met the gang over paani puri, shev batata puri, phenomenal chocolate cake, and some entirely forgettable Goan port wine at BuntyHetal's. Bunty - please throw that stuff out. Hetal - if there were any pictures of your lovely paani puri, could you please send them my way? I owe some people on Facebook a blow-by-blow documentary of "stuff I ate". And I realize now that's more work than I had imagined.

Day 3: Bombay breeze

Coming back to Bombay can feel as alien as it can feel familiar. You don't know what to expect - from the city, or from yourself. I can spend two years away, believing (and at times, rueing) that I'm not as connected to Bombay as I once was. And then I even start supposing it's true.

But all it takes is three days back in Bombay, a couple of rounds around a crowded Shivaji Park, and the feel of the familiar breeze at Worli seaface - for me to realize I that had no idea how I truly felt. And to see, very plainly, that this city has a hold on me that is probably permanent; that in some ways, I will always be more at home here than anywhere else. That I probably still do belong, even if for years at a stretch it feels like I don't.

It's like the air here still owns me.

Freaky.

[We're sure we'll resume being a travel blog tomorrow. Rukaavat ke liye khed hai.]

Day 2: Phoenix Mills, Sardar Pav Bhaji and Chai

So I find myself like I do once every year or two, in the Phoenix Mills mall-o-rama. CRAVING coffee. And not your lame triple-tall-non-fat-shot-of-organic-something-caramel-latte coffee. Nescafe - like those Rs. 10-15 cups of chickory-laden, regular, Indian coffee. But there's none to be found. Why? Because there's McDonalds coffee, and Barista coffee, and Costa coffee. But no regular coffee. And Sahil, you're no help, by the way. No help at all. Put down those Marks and Spencer trousers. You're not going to buy them anyway.

Oh yeah, we did emerge outta there having bought the same shirt. Great shirt, btw. Yes, I do say so. Myself. Yes.

Fast forward an hour or three. Siddharth (henceforth known as The Bearded One) and Lahar pick us up in a cab, and we spend what seems like an hour in a super heated cab, in horrid Bombay traffic, with the blazing hot WINTER Sun shining down upon us. The heat from the taxi's radiator makes it worse for the guy in the front seat. Me. Note. To. Self. Yet again.

Oh. Sardar Pau Bhaji. Done. Amul Butter Assimilation is now complete. Congratulations! You have moved six months closer to a massive myochardial infarction.

Saw a cool part of Bombay near Opera House. Khau galli + Diamond market. A crazy number of Gujju men, young and old, crowding the streets, just talking. Apparently that's what happens around 4pm when the markets closed. Don't recommend going there just to visit. If you do happen to be in the area... still, go see something else.

Dinner at Maami's house. Got to see Paul & Kavita again. Always good to see Maami.

Day 1: Home-cooked awesomeness, and Chinese at Shivaji Park

Mamma-cooked meal. Fish. Prawns. Mutton. Let the eating begin.

Lovely evening with Kavita & Paul (<- That's how their names will look on the wedding cards. Get used to it. Yo Kavita. Where's my wedding invitation, btw?). Gypsy Chinese + Natural's ice cream.

Natural's, I adore you. Besides the usual roasted almond, anjeer (fig, for the English-only types), chikoo and kesar pista, there was jackfruit. Mmmm.

Day ends with Bunty & Hetal showing up under my window. (<- And yes, that is how their names looked on their wedding invitiation). They've been visiting at that window for the better part of a decade. It surprises me each time, and I hope they never stop.

Bombay 2010 - Day 0 - Schipol is so cool

I understand that Europe is more stylish than America. But then you fly through it and you realise just how much! Schipol Airport in Amsterdam is just so cool. All the other airports should go hide behind their mothers out of shame.

An airport library? Gorgeous wood floor area with cool furniture that makes it look like someone's living room? Dutch-style cafe with European breakfast made to order (in front of you) and quality coffee? Schipol you don't have to try so hard. All the other airports are so behind. You should just relax and be beautiful.

Note to self: Delta isn't bad. It's just not good. Do with this information what you will. But that's just how it is.