There is nothing I can say about Bombay that has not been said before. I cannot write about it because I can't pinpoint what exactly I like about it, it has been a failing with most cities I like, seeing as there are so few of them. As a kid, however, I remember liking the city because it had FIATs for taxis. We'd just bought a second-hand Premier Padmini, the first family car, and it made me feel like every Bombay taxi was mine. The taxis remain, but I rode a local train. That rhymes.

I'm glad I walked out of VT only slightly less faster than it took the rest of the crowd to walk in, in spite of being mildly freaked out at everything. There are ticket meters in Marathi but keep walking, everyone's walking the other way but keep walking, the building's so pretty but keep walking. Gag, Slumdog, gag, here? But keep walking. That's what VT was like.

No vada-pav because I don't like it, but akoori and mawa pudding, check. Right after we got back I visited Nahoum's and it's true, Kyani's is more or less a Nahoum's with chequered tablecloths and pillars.

There were kids flying kites on Marine Drive. And there was Porcupine Tree, but I cannot write about that either. There were also a whole lot of new people, funny people, wonderful people, hot coffee-providing people, but fuck it this post's bad enough already.