Wandering the crowded Crawford Market in Mumbai opens a traveler to calls like these from the time one enters to the time one leaves. Though a few stalls face the streets, narrow alleyways lead an ambitious traveler beyond the storefronts into the back where a maze of shops, stalls, and people await. Unfortunately, the shopping is not that interesting as most of the stands sell one or more of the following: watches, beltbuckles, underwear, and cheap toys imported from China. That said, it's an experience just to be surrounded by so much humanity, and the constant noise and yelling that, miraculously, after half an hour or so there, almost seems normal.

Some photos:

His-N-Hers Lingere??

Heading into the madness:

Upon entering the lobby, I believe I can say with confidence, that is it the best smelling room in all of India. I would gladly sit in there for hours at a time just for the air conditioning, fragrance, and bathrooms (more on these later). Unfortunately for me we didn't have long to linger, as we were headed up to the top floor of the Taj Tower for dinner at Souk (http://www.tajhotels.com/FoodandWine/The%20Taj%20Mahal%20Palace%20&%20Tower,MUMBAI/SOUK/default.htm), a Lebanese restaurant overlooking the Gate of India.

Soon after being seated, complimentary vegetables were brought to the table. Unlike nearly every other vegetable I've eaten in India, the sticks of carrots, cucumbers, and spicy jicama were crisp and crunchy, and were served with two dipping sauces: ranch, and a slightly spicy tomato sauce.

For appetizers we shared four different mezzes, which ended up being enough for just a small taste of each item for each of us. The highlight, in my mind, were the Sigara Boregi -- thin phyllo dough filled with feta, and rolled into tiny cigar shaped cylinders.

Taking a brief respite, I went to check out the restrooms at the Taj, which are supposed to be legendary (especially among backpackers like us used to the bare minimum in India: a hole in the floor). After exchanging an awkward hello with the bathroom attendant, I chose my stall, which had a heavy wooden door that extended from the floor to the marble ceiling below. The strange part, though, is that they have a mirror on the side of the toilet -- but not a full length one, only one that extends about three feet up from the ground -- just enough for you to uncomfortably see your side reflection as you sit there taking care of business. Upon exiting, my buddy the bathroom attendant, was ready for me, starting the water, adjusting its temperature, pouring soap in my hands, and, when I was finished, not just handing me a cloth towel, but rather draping it delicately over my hands, beginning the drying process. Though friendly, he reinforced one of my biggest pet peeves: bathroom attendants. I'm very good at, and have lots of practice with everything that goes on in a bathroom, and would very happily just do it on my own, thank you very much.

I returned to the table after my adventure just in time for the entrees to be served. I ordered a traditional Lebanese dish which features minced chicken and spices stuffed in a puff-pastry shell. The combinations and contrasts in it were wonderful: the salt of the chicken with the hint of sweet from the pastry; the bite of the filling with the crunch of the shell. It was served with a simply prepared salad of chic peas, and diced onion and tomatoes in a light olive oil coating.

Though we had no room left for dessert, our waiter brought us Moroccan mint tea, and, for some reason, after pouring each of my friends' small glasses about halfway, he decided to fill mine, literally, to the edge. It made it hard to drink, but it was a nice palate cleanser following a flavorful meal.

Before leaving the hotel, we once again toured the lobby, breathing in as much of the lovely smell as we could, posing for pictures in which we pretended to actually be able to afford to stay here, and comparing and contrasting our Taj hotel bathroom experiences.

The Taj Hotel is, without question, worth a visit, And, if you're going to be inside anyway, you might as well make your way up to the top floor, where a delicious meal awaits.

Security at the entrance:

The lobby:

Souk:

Textbook tea drinking form:

First of all, the store in the photo doesn't look very much like the store in which we were standing. Secondly, upon closer inspection, it may not have even been Bill Clinton at all: it actually looks more like a generic tall white guy with grey hair and a slightly red face than our 42nd President.

After deliberating, we concluded, this store was passing off a photo of a random white guy admiring a random carpet, in a non-descript store, as one of Bill Clinton shopping at their store.

Bill Clinton is shopping at their store? Well, clearly, it depends on what your definition of "is" is.

Strolling along Marine Drive in Mumbai in the afternoon, around high-tide, we saw scores of locals lined up along the stone wall that touches the water, admiring the water as it came splashing up and over every couple of minutes. Though I would love to say I just observed the water-watchers, I was the victim of a pretty good splash myself, though at least I was able to turn my back just in time to protect my camera and face.

Some photos from our walk along the waterfront:

Some photos:

Some photos:

"I brake for sheep" on the way to the fort:

The fort from below:

Climbing up the Ramparts:

Crazy bug I found in the gardens of the fort:

Lots of food carts right outside of IIM-A. Be honest: how much would someone have to pay you to eat "fresh mutton" cooked in the back of a cart in India?

A cow just going to town on a bag of trash:

Vastrapur lake: a nice place for a stroll...

...but not for a swim:

Tell me this isn't the creepiest garbage can you've ever seen: