Nina has a really nocturnal sleeping pattern. She's a tutor so generally starts work around 3pm/4pm, leaving at 1pm/2pm. I wake up at 10am, quietly get dressed and go find the post office. When I sent post from Varanasi I had to provide copies of my VISA and passport so I head down the hill towards a Xerox place I remember seeing. By 10am it's already 32 degrees. Again, I walk down the hill, pass the rows of waiting tuc tuc and taxi drivers, go straight at the round about and realise how sweaty I am. My eyebrows are sweaty. I've been walking for 45minutes. I'm wearing my peach coloured, silk, maxi skirt, grey three quarter length sleeved top and black flip flops with my hair in a high bun. Carrying a back pack containing clothes, boots, ticket stubbs and other trinkets to send home. I spot the Xerox shop across the road and walk towards it with a spring in my step. I reach the curb on the opposite site of the road, get my right flip flop caught on the curb and simultaneously realise that my left flip flop is standing on the skirt. With a heavy thud, my knees slam into the floor, while my sun glasses fall down my face, resting on my chin and my bag of bits for posting tumbles away from me. I'm sat on my legs with my flip flops at awkward angles and I giggle. Dusting off my pride and knees, which are bleeding, I pick up my sweaty self and trudge towards the Xerox thinking about all of the people who will have seen my comedic fall. (I was just carrying too much, Mum, eh?) I get my VISA photocopied five more times and get a couple more copies of my passport. I cross the road, successfully, with my photocopies and walk into Starbucks. As I open the door, the air conditioning starts to dry up the disgusting amount of sweat I have produced on the walk and I order a frappucino, sit on a stool by the window and read my book and use the free wifi chatting to Toby and Adrian. When rested and feeling ready to go back into the heat, I walk outside and hail a tuc tuc to the post office. Initially the driver thinks I wanted the police station until a local overhears me trying to explain ‘post office’ in pigeon English. Fortunately we make it to the Bandra post office. If it wasn't so hot and I had had some vague idea of where I was going I could have walked there. I join the queue at 2pm. There's five people in the queue infront of me. I realise very quickly that I have no idea what I need to ask for. After three men queue jump I make it to the counter by 2:45pm. The post office closes at 4:30pm. I hand over my carrier bag to send and the man speaks to me in Hindi. My mind goes blank of all the questions he could possibly be asking. All logical questions leave my mind. I turn to the queue forming behind me and get embarrassed and flustered. The man behind me sees me struggling and in perfect English asks me if I need his help. I do need your help!! The question the postman was asking? What country are you sending the package to? A perfectly sensible question when trying to determine the cost of postage after weighing. England, I bleat. He weighs the bag, I hand over my money and he pushes my bag back towards me. My helper sees my confusion again and tells me that I need to take my bag outside and get it wrapped. My helper introduces himself, he's called Amit, I follow Amit out of the post office complex and there is a man sitting on a stool. The man is in his early 60s, a full head of white grey hair, cut short, he has a big smile and only a few teeth. On his lap he has a brief case, to his right a carrier bag with what looks like folded sheets and just infront of him in another a stool. He gestures for me to sit on the stool infront of him and takes my bag off me. He places it on the brief case and then starts to pull pieces of cloth from the carrier bag, measuring them up against the carrier bag and slowly begins to sew the pieces of cloth together with a long thick needle and thick cotton, cocooning my belongings. 20 minutes later and my bag is wrapped. He places the cloth wrapped ball on my lap and hands me a permanent marker pen gesturing for me to write the sender and recipient addresses on it. I then complete a small docket with the postal information on it and he sews it to the ball. Amit translates for me and I hand over 60 rupees for his help, he grins his toothless smile, gives me a head wiggle and hands me my wrapped and ready to go parcel. At 3:45pm I get back in the queue, Amit insists on staying with me to ensure that my parcel makes it to Maidenhead. 4:15pm I'm back to the front! Parcel handed over, entire transaction translated by Amit, change received from my payment earlier, receipt in hand, I leave the post office at 4:30pm. Amit asks me to come meet his wife, who will be very happy to meet me, and who has also, I discover, been sat waiting in the car for him this whole time! His wife is lovely and he is bursting with pride to have helped an English person. They both invite me to dinner at their house and repeatedly wish me a safe and good trip in India. 

I find my way to a book shop to try to find a Mumbai guide book because I figure I'll be there for a longer time than expected. I go into Crosswords and buy a Mumbai guide book, a China guidebook, a USB stick to transfer my photos to and go to the café upstairs. I had intended to spend an hour or so in Crosswords but three hours later and my book ‘ And The Mountains Echoed’ finished (followed by a little cry because the ending was so sad), I consult my new guide book for some dinner options and hail a cab to ‘Sheesha’. 

The restaurant is on the rooftop of a shopping centre. Dark, thick beams of wood frame tables with multicoloured mosaic decorated lanterns, encasing low lighting bulbs. Copper water goblets reflect the light and wall mounted fan whir and oscillate providing a welcome breeze in the warm evening. The food was incredible, the staff were attentive, lovely and patient with me and the I cannot recommend the place enough. I ordered a lamb curry which came on the bone, romali roti and a mango lassi. I drank and ate whilst reading Shantaram, which, being set in Mumbai, came to life for me. Absolutely stuffed, I waddled out of the restaurant and jumped in a cab back to Nina's, and crawled into bed.