We have arrived!! We landed safely in the massive Indian city of Mumbai. Going through customs and collection of our packs was confusing yet fairly painless, even trying to find a taxi and hotel was easy.

After exiting the large airport through the front doors we were hit instantly by the warmth and humidity of a hot, dry summer that we have been missing for the last 6 months, while in Europe. Swarming the enterence like loud chattering mosquitos were indian taxi drivers and hotel managers all hoping to grab the delusional, tired late night tourist to sweep them away into the midst of the madness. A man spits at my feet and makes a deep throaty growl. Another grabs Leifs arm and tries to goad us towards his tuk-tuk. Slowly we force our way through the congestion of sweaty, smelly bodies to a small opening out the other side. We find a small spot inder a tree to talk. Being alone and talking is impossible as Indians stare at us and shout at us to use their services. We must talk fast and make a quick and decisive decision. We find a pre paid taxi booth and book ourselves a taxi. Within minutes we are in the car. Our packs are jammed into the trunk and the lid is tied down by rope. A young boy no older than 10 years opens our door for us and a pro at what he does, hangs his head in through the front window and badgers us for for a tip. We dig into our pockets only to find a couple of euro cents and offer them to him. He thanks us and we are on our way.

The trip to our motel in Colabra is a 45 minute drive, giving us a good snapshot view of our new country. I definatly have a good vibe about the place and we both agree that arriving so late at night was best as there is fewer people than we expected and less cars. The taxi is a real clechae type model. Rosary beads hang from the review mirror and a small buddah figurine is perched peacefully on the dashboard smiling warmly up at me. Their is soft Indian music playing on the radio and the retro 80s seat covers compliment the mood. I hear our packs bouncing around in the boot and smile at Leif. I meet the drivers dark eyes in the mirror as the street lights streak our faces and for a few seconds we share silent words of understanding. I wind down the window and enjoy the warmwind as it brushes against my face, cooling the sweat on my skin and sending my hair flying. I relax into the seat and close my eyes. I feel suprisingly calm. Neither leif or I speak one word to each other for the whole journey. Instead we take in the sights, smells and sounds and enjoy the energy.

The street, shops and houses are all run down with obvious signs of neglect, poverty and vandalism. The road is covered in pot holes and dodging them is hairy as a short, quick horn is the only indication of an approaching speeding car. Hundreds of sleeping bodies- women, children and the elderly, sleep lifelessly in dusty, wet gutters that line the streets, on filthy footpaths littered with rubbish and ruins, or they simply curl up on newspaper scraps under their street stall to rest their heads for the night. Dogs roam the streets and alleyways searching desperatly for a feed through used trash just thrown on the ground. Giant black rats dart between the shadows also feasting on the rubbish. Police instruct the traffic using whistles, stopping the occassional driver to collect "Backshish" a corrupt tip. A large Brahmen bull stops us in the middle of the road where he stands undeterred by his surroundings. We pass it slowly and the driver whispers something under his breath before dropping tabacco into his mouth. The constant sound of horns becomes a mind numbing background noise. Street lights and neon signs flash at us as we pass by. The smelly air wafts with a cocktail of strong scents including human and animal faeces, rotting dead carcuses, burning rubbish and Indian curries. But it is not so much the occassional pungent smell that is the most bothering, it is more the thick, muggy, dusty, suffocating air. It feels like it is choking me.

We arrive at our hotel which we quickly discover is in the slums. An alcaholic slouches over his bottle on the steps speaking to himself. Piles of rubbish stacked waist high smother the enterance and the street. A single street light is on at the end of the road where a few Indians stop to leer at us. Taxi drivers are sleeping inside their cars with only their feet hanging out the window. A stray dog rummages around in the trash before being slurred at and cursed by the homeless drunk who quickly swigs another mouthful and passes out again.

We thank the driver and tip him before ascending up the narrow, windy cement stairwell to our hotel. The walls are stained with matured grim and smog. Everything is filthy. My hands and feet now black. A litter of kittens sleep restlessly on a corner step and still we continue to climb the stairs with sweat now dampening our clothes.

We are given a room, Leif negotiates the price and we slump onto our beds exhausted and sick but very, very excited...