Steven Raucher's World Tour

2000-12-18 in Bombay, India
Steve's Birthday on the road and in Bombay

It was time to find some civlisation

We left for Bombay from Daman at lunchtime and made it there by teatime. The road is very good and not half as busy as the preceding 400 kms. We even managed to ride on some double carriage-ways (whoohoo!)

I must first start this story with an apology. For one reason or another we kept forgetting the camera behind, so we have no pictures of this very picturesque city.

Bombay is very impressive. The town planners have created a network of bridges and coastal roads, which make driving through town very pleasant. We headed for Colaba, the touristy part of town and also home to the famous Gateway to India. Colaba is a peninsula therefore surrounded by the ocean and beaches, though none of which are recommended for swimming in.

We bumped into Martin Rooiman again (the Dutchman we met in Agra). Monday night was spent in Leopold�s caf� (a hangout for anyone foreign). We tried really hard to celebrate my Birthday but were just too knackered. So after 2 jugs of Fosters the Raucher party was ready for bed.

The next day our brake pads arrived from London (Thanks to SPC Motorcycles � see suppliers for details) and we went shopping and looking for an ATM. Such is the way whenever we get to civilisation.

That night I received the contact details of an old friend of mine who lives in Bombay (Hi Vishal!). He told us to meet him at the Indigo Bar in Bombay, this is a proper bar. The Indigo Bar is the most western establishment we have been to since leaving Greece. The only downside to a place like this in India is that the clientele are very preoccupied with themselves (if you know what I mean). Nevertheless it was good to check out how the other half live in Bombay/Bollywood.

We negotiated our way out of Bombay at first light the next morning. This time the route through Bombay was not quite as scenic. We drove through the foulest smelling slums we have ever driven through, sometimes begging my memory not to recognise the stench.