Today we spent another day waiting for a call. This time from Eve the lady from the Goa hotel. She said we should visit weds/thurs or thurs/fri and being Wednesday we needed to know if we were checking our stuff out. When Vincent rang her she was at the markets and said she'd ring back, so we decided to go to the famous Mumbai markets in case we aren't to be here much longer.We popped down to the train station and grabbed some 2nd class tickets along with another deep fried potato sandwich and set off for Churchgate. The first place to go was a sari shop. It was recommended in the lonely planet and wasn't to far from the station. We didn't find the one in the book, but there was a sari shop pretty much where it said so we went in. It was a pleasant experience and the owner came to help us out right away. He spoke great English and after a while it became clear that not only was he indifferent to the possibility of us buying or not, he really enjoyed chatting. We settled down for the customary getting the sari/fabric/trousers etc out of their neat packaging and throwing them on the table in front of us, but he did it with no pressure and didn't yell at his staff too much like in the previous shop a few days ago, which we left because the boss was trying to unpack his entire shop yelling at his boys all the time to refold everything I didn't like - it was too much and I felt guilty for not spending, which turned to crossness as that was obviously the plan.This shop was different, the guy told us funny stories about his rich customers, his prices were forthcoming and matched what it said on the label (no 'tourist tax') and he wasn't offended when I didn't like something. It was a truly fun experience and he pinned various outfits to me so I could see how they would look. I bought myself a sari as Vincent and I both fell in love with the fabric and actually agreed on it! There was no pressure to buy however and the guy told us he had so many rich customers anyway that he'd rather chat than pressurise us. He also told us the meaning of 'Kitty Party'. I had seen it on a hotel sign and assumed it was like a hen party, but apparently not. The very rich men who have a wife that doesn't work ( and have maids to do everything else) need a way to get them out of the house so they give them a few thousand rupees a day and send them to Kitty parties. Basically it's a girls get together where they drink and gamble all day!! His customer was a very rich lady and she always used to lose, maybe so the other girls liked her more he thought, and she would come to his shop and buy loads of saris because as he put it, 'when they've been seen in a sari once they just cant wear it again!' She spent most days gambling at kitty parties and buying his saris while her husband stayed home, in peace, getting so rich he now owns a bank!Anyway with the sari chosen, all my measurements taken and a few bits for my girls back home we went on.The guy in the sari shop insisted that one of his staff accompany us to the jewellery bazaar in a cab, he had to show us the right shop apparently and as they had been so helpful we eventually agreed. Of course he took us to the most expensive shop in the bazaar and we just had a look, but being overstaffed as most places are we left quite quickly before they could get all their gold out on the counter for us. Leaving our guide at the door, really it was more hindrance than help having the little old man saying 'you want to buy this?' about all the gold, we wandered off in our usual way. We found a few more presents for the girls, got rather lost in a wholesale area of town where there were crazy heavily loaded hand carts rushing up the street trying to run down everyone in their way as they had no steering or brakes. Then it was time to get the train home.The journey was crowded in 2nd but we got seats. A few stops on the train really began to fill up with people hanging out the doors and clinging to the edges of the train like you see on TV. We got to the stop next to ours and hundreds more people got on. We decided to stand and try to get near the door and started chatting to a guy about how hard it was to determine which side of the train the platform would be on. There were so many people crammed in the doorway that we missed our stop! It didn't matter as the stops are very close together so we just planned to get off at the next one, Santa Cruz, then get the train back again. Just as we were succeeding in getting off the train a man rushed up behind me and put an arm round me trying to stop me and grab at me. In an panic I wacked him with my stick, the guides all warn you that 2nd class may be a 10th the price of 1st but it does mean some men will try and grab at you if you're white, well after getting a good wack from me he let go and Vincent dragged me off the train. I didn't see but Vincent saw the outraged nice man we were talking to begin socking the guy in the mouth for disgracing himself and trying to touch me, then a full on fight broke out as the train moved off! I wasn't bothered, the sticks come in handy and I'm no Indian shrinking violet who will just stand there - if a man grabs me I have fast reflexes and usually surprise on my side. After chatting to a friend I think he was right in saying the man was most likely a Muslim and they guy we were chatting to Hindi so the fight was less about my honour than a good excuse. Any how we're fine, not even shaken, in fact probably far more fine than the idiot who decided a seconds worth of an arm around me was worth a pasting!We met a guy from Leicester in the bar downstairs last night, but didn't get long to chat as he had to pick his mate up from the airport then when the arrived back the mate's luggage had been lost and they went off. Hopefully we'll catch up with them as it doesn't matter how good the English is of the Indian guys we're missing sitting down and having a chat with a group of people.