Some days Mumbai is amusing and some days it's absolutely infuriating.
To a large degree, that depends on whether or not you have something to get done. With no time restrictions on your day, you tend to pause and notice the little moments of life as you sit in traffic or wait for a train; children's laughter, cricket games on the sidewalk, affection between young couples. But if you've got an appointment across town, or tickets to a show somewhere, it can seem like the whole city has organized against you to make you late and miserable if and when you ever get there.
Weekends, as opposed to weekdays, also tend to be less aggravating. When you've time to stroll the village behind your apartment, explore another part of town, or just pop over to a nice shop you've heard about, Mumbai can seem quite relaxing. Then the honking rickshaws, smog spewing buses, dirt tossing trucks, piles of stinking garbage, putrid cross breeze over the stagnant canal, and the demon pigeons sent straight from Hell to your doorstep attempting to kill you with their nasty feathers and feces pushes you to the brink of pure raging insanity.
I hate the pigeons.
But as you discover the rhythm of the city, and this takes time, things become easier. You no longer wait in line for 20 minutes at the train station vending machine because you now know you can cut the line when buying first class. You now only take your wallet to the grocery store, not your whole purse, because you know you'll have to bag check it at security while you shop. You stop going to the apartment complex fitness club where they blast bass heavy music while yelling at you to get off the machine after 20 minutes or stop swimming because 'you're splashing water', and instead walk the circuit around the building complex with all the other residents.
Every now and then you need to step back and catch your breath, observe the steps for a moment before jumping back into the city. Only then, can you learn the dance.
To a large degree, that depends on whether or not you have something to get done. With no time restrictions on your day, you tend to pause and notice the little moments of life as you sit in traffic or wait for a train; children's laughter, cricket games on the sidewalk, affection between young couples. But if you've got an appointment across town, or tickets to a show somewhere, it can seem like the whole city has organized against you to make you late and miserable if and when you ever get there.
Weekends, as opposed to weekdays, also tend to be less aggravating. When you've time to stroll the village behind your apartment, explore another part of town, or just pop over to a nice shop you've heard about, Mumbai can seem quite relaxing. Then the honking rickshaws, smog spewing buses, dirt tossing trucks, piles of stinking garbage, putrid cross breeze over the stagnant canal, and the demon pigeons sent straight from Hell to your doorstep attempting to kill you with their nasty feathers and feces pushes you to the brink of pure raging insanity.
I hate the pigeons.
But as you discover the rhythm of the city, and this takes time, things become easier. You no longer wait in line for 20 minutes at the train station vending machine because you now know you can cut the line when buying first class. You now only take your wallet to the grocery store, not your whole purse, because you know you'll have to bag check it at security while you shop. You stop going to the apartment complex fitness club where they blast bass heavy music while yelling at you to get off the machine after 20 minutes or stop swimming because 'you're splashing water', and instead walk the circuit around the building complex with all the other residents.
Every now and then you need to step back and catch your breath, observe the steps for a moment before jumping back into the city. Only then, can you learn the dance.
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