Leaving Udaipur
Today is our last day in Udaipur. We get up and pack. We decided last night to eat a late breakfast around 10 am and then have dinner in Mumbai. After breakfast, Shank and I take a rickshaw back to the city palace. This is a secret mission from Aba. We are splurging and spending 200 rupees ($3.63) to take a camera in for pictures. We move hurriedly through the palace taking pictures as we go. Once out, we shop along the street for souvenirs. We stop and Shank bargains playfully with the owner for a black marble Ganesh and a silver marble elephant candle holder. While they are talking the children come out to see me. They smile and say hello! I talk to them and play peek-a-boo. They wave goodbye as we move on. Next we stop at a bookstore. I purchase two handmade leather books for journals. We are almost out of time and head back to the hotel. Aba is waiting and we sit out in the reception area waiting for the rickshaw to the airport. The rickshaw comes and we load up for the 30-minute ride to the airport. We arrive at the airport and Aba takes control. Why pull out tickets ahead of time? It’s ok to hold up the twenty people behind us. Let’s just get to the door and give the police officer the entire 5x7 travel packet to go through. WE get inside with 2 rolling bags and his briefcase size suitcase. He insists on getting a rolling cart and insists on us loading it. We walk 15 feet to the luggage screening where we unload. We reload at his request and walk another 15 feet where we unload at the ticket counter. Again why be prepared….. Instead of leaving out itinerary out, he has put it all up again and hands the attendant the whole envelope. We get passes and Shank picks up Aba’s carry on. “No, we roll!” Aba rolls the whole contraption over to the sitting area and we sit down to wait. During this time, Shank and I are drinking a 1-liter bottle of water. Shank offers Aba some and he declines. He asks Shank why the rush? Shank replies that we need to finish before they call us through security because liquids are not allowed. Shank finishes his water and heads to the bathroom. They call our flight. I sit there mute. I have learned not to take the initiative. Better to let Aba be in control! ☺ Shank comes back and asks why we aren’t headed toward security. Aba Slowly gets up and starts to roll the bags. At this point, Shank begins to lose patience. It is less than 10 feet to security and we can’t take the cart through. He takes the cart to the cart storage and comes back carrying the bag. Now it is a battle of the alpha males and Aba has lost control. We stop while he goes to the bathroom. When he comes out, Shank asks for the boarding passes ad Aba says, “I have come!” We get to the guard and he refuses to take the passes as a group. He wants us all to hold our own. Aba looks around like someone is planning a coup! I separate from the men and go through security. I find that I am a victim of racial profiling and they search my bags. Oh well, what goes around comes around. Aba gets through security and they have found a problem with his bag. They ask him to open his bag and surprise???? Three liters of water! The tell him to throw it out and he starts his retired Mumbai policeman/SOTC travel agent routine. They politely tell him to pour it out but he decides to drink it. 3-liters! The line is backing up. Shank is having a come apart! I decided after being racially profiled that I do not want to be associated with the counterfeit Mumbai policeman with the 3-liter water bottle so I head to the book store. When I come out, my two men are sitting together. Shank is trying to compose himself, Aba is smugly drinking his water and complaining that security should be more lenient and understanding. Shank wants to know how much more lenient they can be since they are allowing him to drink 3 liters of water while taking a security guard out of commission to watch him! Oh, I do love them so! Aba continues his speech of “what could anyone possibly do with 3 liters of water? What to do if you are thirsty?” Shank responds, “Mix with dry chemicals and blow up the plane. Why don’t you do like everyone else and bring an empty water bottle and fill it there where they have free drinking water”. I just happily keep writing! They call our flight and we board the plane. The airport was built for large jets but the pane that we are traveling on is not large enough to hook up to the jet way so we walk out to the tarmac. Once on the plane, I find a magazine and settle in for the hour and 15 minute flight. As soon as we are in the air we are served a meal. It consists of a cheese sandwich, a packet of ketchup, 4 twists (phyllo dough with spices) and a square of cake with water. I eat my meal and the attendant announces we are descending into Mumbai. We disembark and pick up our luggage. Shank asks Aba if we should get a pre-paid cab. There are two types of cabs in Mumbai, metered and prepaid. The nice thing about prepaid is that you can negotiate a fixed price, that way the driver wants to get you to your destination ASAP versus meter where they can choose a longer route. Of course, we are not going to pre-pay anything! Aba knows short cuts home! We head outside and are approached by a taxi queue guy. He has a cellular phone and since the terrorist attacks, taxis are not allowed to sit at the arrival gate. He says that he can have us a taxi in 2 minutes. Shank says ok! But Aba has a different plan in mind. He heads out to the huge main street in front of the airport. He walks into the middle of the street. Cars are dodging him, whizzing by and horns are blowing. He looks like a leaf going through a rapid in a white water stream. I asked Shank “What is he doing?’ Our taxi is at the curb, someone else gets in and the taxi leaves. Shank explains that those guys only have air-conditioned axis and Aba doesn’t see a need to spend extra Rupees for A/C. After all, it is only in the high 80’s with 100% humidity. After about 10 minutes, he hails a cab. It is a decrepit black Fiat. The inside looks like a bad acid trip. The seats are covered in orange and purple zebra stripe. The roof and floor boards are red and blue paint brush strokes on velour. It is a manual 4 on the column and the gearshift is a huge crystal scepter. There is the prerequisite idol on the dash and a stick-on air freshener that doesn’t help. The exhaust smell is horrible and the engine heat comes through the heating vents. It is miserable! The crank windows are completely down. It is rush hour in Mumbai and we are moving so slowly that the engine is bucking in first gear. Just when I think that the experience is complete. It begins to rain. The windows have to come up. The steam, the smell of old upholstery and the body odor of the driver invades my brain. Aba decides to instruct the driver on the best route to get home, which by Aba Standards is as the crow flies. The driver luckily chooses to have temporary deafness. Cars are sliding and slipping on the road. We sit still for a good 5 minutes. When the car starts moving, I have a strange sensation. I recognize the feeling but can’t pine it down. I realize what it is. I have memories of being stuck on a dirt road and trying to get weight on the back tires for traction. The cab’s tires are bald! Even with 3 bags and Shank and I in the back seat, the driver is having trouble getting the rear wheel drive Fiat to move on a flat wet street! We finally make it home, eat dinner and get ready for bed. Our Udaipur Adventure is over!












