Off to the races

So I know I dropped the ball on the India pics and I promise that my next post will continue with India but I have to intervene for now with pics from the other weekend.

It was my first experience with camel racing... and quite a memorable one. 

These are trainers and owners setting up before the race.

Everyone waiting for the races to start. There were eight races in total so only a dozen or so camels raced at a time. 

On the way to the starting line. The little figure on the back of the camel is the robot jockey. As recently as 2004 children were actually used as jockeys but this has since been outlawed as using children as jockeys is recognized as a form of child abuse. Still, it's sad that it took so long for such a change.

More on their way towards the starting line. If you look closely you can see markings on their sides near the arm pit. It was hard to tell if these were markings by the owners (like a brand) or wear from the whips.

Close up of the robot jockeys.

Lining up at the starting gate.

This is a view from the other side of the gate. The handlers stand in front of the net, holding the camels' reins. When the race starts, the net lifts, the camels come rushing out, and the handlers have to scramble to get out of the way of legs and hooves.

... And they're off!

It was pretty common to see the handlers' sandals flying up behind them as they tried to get out of the way.

I would've been terrified.

Luckily we didn't see anyone get hurt although I was told that it wasn't uncommon for people to get trampled. Supposedly getting trampled by a camel isn't a dangerous as a horse but either way, I wouldn't want it to happen. 

Sometime around the 4th or 5th race, I was able to climb up on the camera van and ride along side the camels. 

The trucks in the background are actually the owners. They are using remotes to control the jockeys and some of the camels have ear pieces so they can hear their owner.

Aside from the remote controlled robot and the ear piece, there was also a lot of yelling and slapping the side of trucks.

This camel is running so hard his bottom lip is flapping in the wind.

They have such an awkward stride but they look so determined. During shorter races spectators can actually ride their own cars alongside the race. 

 

Nearing the end. You can see all the owners riding alongside their camels, trying to get them to go go go.

The winner (at least of this race)

I hope he gets a bath to clean off all that foam.

A herd of young racing camels. I think these are too young to race but they are probably being trained. Notice the matching outfits (on the camels of course)?

It wasn't that dusty, and it didn't really smell that bad, yet both camel and trainer were masked. 

He kept waving and telling me to take more pictures so I thought I'd oblige with his photo in my blog. 

All in all, it was an intense experience, one I planning on doing again. The winners do receive monetary prizes but it seems that the reward is more about the race than the prize. 

Mumbai on the Move

Our second day in Mumbai we headed to Victoria Terminus to buy train tickets to Aurangabad. At the train station we met a man who insisted that it would be faster and easier if we bought tickets from his friend’s travel agency just down the street. We followed him through an alley to a big street on the other side of the station but rather than taking us into the large corporate run travel agency on the corner, he took us next door. It was a small hallway with a desk, computer, and printer. We had to squeeze ourselves against the wall or desk whenever someone walked by. As we decided on the tickets to get, the man who brought us there introduced himself.

“Many tourists come here and I show them all the wonderful sights and then they tell me, ‘Mr. Bali we had a wonderful time’ and it makes me very happy. Because when these people are happy, it makes me happy here” he clapped his hands over his heart. “And if they show me how happy they are with money, then it makes me even more happy, because if there is no happiness here, then there is no happiness in the world,” he said, all the while, patting his hands over his heart. “So if you like, I will take you around Mumbai and you will say at the end ‘Mr. Bali, thank you for showing us all the wonderful sights of Mumbai, we had a wonderful time.”

Needless to say we took him up on his offer, with an introduction like that we couldn’t pass it up.

On our way past the front of VT we passed a "pigeon restaurant," which is exactly what it sounds like: a fenced in area where pigeons feed.

We also passed a man cleaning a woman's ears right on the sidewalk.

Victoria Terminus aka Chatrapati Shivaji Terminus

Past VT, Mr. Bali stopped to show us carts and bicycles full of lunch
pails.

He explained that the people who drove these carts and bicycles picked up the lunch pails from office workers homes and then delivered them to their owners at work. They are called "dabbawalla," he said. "They are dabbawalla because they deliver the lunches. I am a taxiwalla because I drive a taxi and you are a touristwalla."

On our way to Malabar Hill we drove past a number of these ox carts. Some carts were full of ice that was being delivered to many of the food stalls around Mumbai. According to Mr. Bali, the ice was coated with a chemical that prevented it from melting too quickly.

After passing Chowpatty Beach, we found ourselves at a Jain temple in Malabar hill. It was an extravagantly adorned marble temple with hand-painted sculptures everywhere.

This man was washing laundry at the temple with handmade soap. After swirling the cloth in the buckets of soapy water and clean water, he'd twist them up and pile them on the the railing next to him. I love how neatly they're laid, they looked like skeins of yarn.

From the temple Mr. Bali took us to the Hanging Gardens, a park at the top of Malabar Hill where "all the rich people go for their morning walks."

Before we walked into the Gardens, he asked us if we would like some tasty veg food and pointed to a food vendor. Hesitantly we agreed, worried about not being able to handle it but curious because India is known for it's tasty street food. As it turned out it was some of the best food we had in India. We tried ordering the same dish at a number of other restaurants throughout our stay but none of them tasted anywhere near as good as the masala dosa at the one street vendor. Masala dosa is a crepe made with lentil and rice flour and stuffed with spiced potatoes and onions. Simple but downright delicious!

The Gardens were a large park with various flowers, trees, and animal-shaped bushes.

"On Sunday mornings you come here and there are many people all getting together and laughing. Like this," he let out a large, hearty, "HAH HAH HAH." "My father comes here every Sunday to laugh because it is good for health."

The entire park sits on top of Bombay's main reservoir not far from the Zoroastrian Tower of Silence. The Tower is closed to non-Parsis but it is essentially a building where corpses are brought to be eaten by vultures and decomposed in the sun as a form of cleansing.

We then went to Mahatma Ghandi's home. It was a large but fairly unassuming building that has since been converted into a museum.

Our final stop on Mr. Bali's tour was to a dhobi ghat, a sprawling outdoor area where laundry from restaurants, hotels, and families from all over Mumbai is washed, dried, and ironed.

Nearing the end of our tour and Mr. Bali's day, he took us to his father. Mr. Bali drives the taxi during the day and his father drives it at night. My understanding is that this is pretty common and most taxi's are shared. Mr. Bali's father, Mr. Bali took us back to our hotel, although the trip took several hours between stopping at an upscale shopping mall and a tailor (one of Mr. Bali Senior's friends) and getting stuck in the horrendous rush hour traffic of Mumbai. All in all it was a fantastic tour and we ended our day, exhausted and utterly happy here [pats heart].