Apartments and Rickshaws

Apartment hunting in Mumbai is not an easy task. The asking price does not necessarily correlate with the quality of the flat, which is why we have viewed almost forty apartments already. (My theory on this is the real estate agents are trying to sell the crappy places at a high price so they show us them first, assuming we have no expectations because we are Mumbai newbies.) It is tiring, especially with a baby. If it were just me and Martin, then no problem. But it's hotter than Hades (it is Summer in India) and the constant in and out of the car with a baby and then carrying her around is exhausting. So we are very much looking forward to making a final decision.

We saw two beautiful, new apartments on Saturday and have made bids for both. They are in Bandra, which is a happening neighborhood in Mumbai with a lot of shops and restaurants. Like most places we've seen, they have cool marble floors and a lot of windows. The living room is in the center, and the bedrooms and bathrooms are in the wings. That's a very common layout. Usually there is a toilet and shower for each bedroom, something I think is unecessary. I would rather have the extra space because there's no need for 3 or 4 showers when you are only two adults and a little girl.

On Sunday, we toured an older place in Juhu- a beachy location dotted with the bungalows of Bollywood stars. It had an amazing view of the sea, which is a rare and luxurious plus, but the apartment itself wasn't exactly our taste. We will see how it goes. The real estate agent should get back to us shortly. Our next hurdle will be working out advance payment. The apartment owners often ask for 1 to 2years of rent up front. Absolutely ridiculous. We might as well buy an apartment!

Yesterday we also did a little bit of shopping in downtown Bandra. I probably had at least two heart attacks and sprouted half a dozen ulcers after that experience. If you've ever seen throngs of people in downtown Tokyo, imagine all those people transformed into rickshaws and then imagine them coming at you and your baby willy-nilly in 35 C heat. That is what it was like. We had just purchased a little pink stroller for Isabel (she gets too hot and heavy in the Baby Bjorn), and for the first time ever pushed her around on wheels in the middle of Mumbai traffic. I really do mean "in the middle" because there are no safe places to walk. You see, the sidewalks ain't made for walking. Bathing, sleeping, hair cutting, sugar cane juice pressing, selling stuff- sure! But going for a leisurely stroll is impossible. That explains why everyone was staring at us- no one else in Mumbai pushes their babies around in Barbie pink strollers. It's just too difficult. You have to shoo away people peddling trinkets and grow eyes on all sides of your head to avoid being run over. Try to envision all that if you can. Sweltering heat, people staring at you as though you're from Pluto, a billion unpredicatble vehicles honking their way at you, steering around the people living their lives on the sidewalk, turning away from people trying to sell you crap, while frantically worrying about the saftey of your infant whose little toes are centimeters away from cars and trucks and tuk-tuks. Heart attack city for a mother.

I also had my first ever tuk-tuk experience on Sunday. It was more like a game of Mario Kart than real life. I still haven't had the opportunity to take photos, so here is a picture from Wikipedia if you aren't sure what an auto rickshaw looks like. Indian rickshaws have no doors and no seatbelts; you have to hang onto a thin metal bar in front of you and pray you don't lurch forward and crack a tooth. There's probably a trillion of those little rickshaws in Mumbai. Three wheeled, rumbling, black and yellow beetle-like things. The drivers fit a standard profile- somwhere around 25-45 years old, thick black mustache, khaki shirt and pants, and either barefoot or wearing chappals (flip-flops). Like all Mumbai drivers, they only look directly in front of them, so they make turns and change lanes (if there are designated lanes) without glancing first at who might be in the rear or on the sides. Honking the horn is the only kind of precaution they take before squeezing into whatever narrow space is available or making a sharp turn. Needless to say, riding in a rickshaw with Isabel on my lap gave me another couple of ulcers. But a rickshaw ride is preferable to navigating the chaotic mess on foot, and it hardly costs anything- if you come out of it alive.

Before I forget, here are some pictures Martin took while out apartment hunting. Gives you an idea of what a typical expat flat and its envrions look like:

Some of those crazy life threatening rickshaws!!