After the usual minor panics, I got to my departure lounge. By now my cold was streaming away and I was utterly shattered: just the right state to undertake 6 months of travel in unknown lands. One of the departure staff noticed how ill I was and arranged for me to have three adjoining seats so I could sleep through the flight.
During the flight, I dozed and drank whisky (purely medishinal, doctor!). I recall passing over a river that I guess was the Volga or Don (but could well have been the Zambesi for all I knew of where we were). My diary tells me there was some issue about my food not being vegan but I have no idea now what this was.
Arrival in Mumbai seemed fairly efficient. As soon as my rucsac arrived on the carousel, I grabbed my insect repellant and slobbered it all over me because there were mosquitoes buzzing around the luggage reclaim hall. Even though it was around 1am, the air was muggy and moist.
I was still tired and disorientated so Random Bozo took over. He changed some money and booked a taxi to a hotel, not knowing where in Mumbai the hotel was. It would be the most expensive hotel we'd use in Asia - it cost Rs1100 (£15) which, at the time felt like nothing. I didn't realise that within a month or two this would seem utterly exhorbitant.
The taxi sped through the night, twisting and turning through unfamiliar streets and sounds. It felt as if I was travelled right into the heart of Mumbai but in reality I was heading a few miles north of the airport into Andheri suburb. After about 30 minutes, we pulled into the dilapidated Golden Lion hotel and I signed in for my first night in India. I was offered a bottle of drinking water for Rs30 and gratefully took it. My room was large, the bed was vaguely clean and comfortable and the fan and lights worked. I think I made a couple of calls home (the cellphone would prove to be a very expensive habit) and then crashed out amid the sounds of the tropics.
© (except the blatantly ripped-off bits) Random Bozo 2006