A hard days travelling. It should have been easy but it has been a total faff. We left George Town this morning after a couple of hours sorting the paperwork, checking the bags and an hour on the rooftop listening to the lion dancers and firecrackers strutting their stuff somewhere in the labyrinth of streets that make up the old quarter. We took a taxi to the airport as a treat as we had some ringit left over and once you leave Malaysia they are about as much use as Monopoly money. Easy check in, took off on time and arrived in KL on schedule. KL airport is massive. We hadn’t appreciated the scale of it so it came as a shock. We were really glad that we had left enough time to navigate the long distances involved. We had arrived at the domestic terminal which is easily twice the size of Ringway. Then we had to catch a train, the KLIA express, to the international terminal. Once there it was a mad dash through multi levels and different areas to find check in for our airline. It’s a strange airport to negotiate. There is a world of choice as regards eating and drinking but once through security the choices are non existent. Security was a breeze but as it took so long to get to departures time was slipping away. We thought we had made it with loads of time and then we hit the immigration office and passport control. It was manic and only a few immigration police to process the hundreds of passports. It took what felt like an age and once through there was only a short time before boarding. We were hoping to eat here before the flight but that didn’t happen.
Malindo is a no frills budget airline similar to an Asian EasyJet. Cheap but efficient. It was comfy with individual headrest entertainment consoles and the food for a change was available was excellent. 4 hours and fifteen minutes saw us touching down in Mumbai. Mumbai is nearly 10000 km west of KL so we are now in another time zone. Now we are only six and a half hours ahead of Greenwich mean time so we know we are getting home by degrees.
It was dark and relatively quiet at Mumbai airport and I knew where we needed to be for our accommodation was about an hour south in the Fort area of the city. Immigration went exceedingly smoothly for India. I had completely forgot about a visa for India and arranged last minute e-visas through an online company. We only received them a couple of days ago on the eye pad. Via the medium of e-mail. India is on a big push to attract tourists at the moment. There are always travellers but they account for only a small percentage of the market.
The taxi drove for what seemed an eternity and eventually stopped outside a small dark alley. Everywhere was closed and in darkness. We didn’t have the slightest clue where we were when the taxi driver pointed down the small dark alleyway. I told Crispy to hold the taxi door open and on no account allow the guy to drive off. I didnt need to bother as a team of wild horses wouldn’t have been able to drag her off the cab until she was sure we had a refuge for the night.
As luck would have it a passer by approached us and I asked him for the address. He escorted me up the alley and straight to our digs.
It’s a strange one this. An old house run by a fashion designer that has converted some rooms into a Homestay. It’s pretty and quaint but in a remote part of town. The exact location doesn’t really matter as it’s impossible to navigate this city. It’s sprawling and distances are long. The rooms are comfortable and clean. Private bathroom. Everything we need. We are creatures of simple pleasures by now and Good old Crispy isn’t hard to please.
Bare and Crispy signing off, Feck knows where, Mumbai, India 🇮🇳
Malindo is a no frills budget airline similar to an Asian EasyJet. Cheap but efficient. It was comfy with individual headrest entertainment consoles and the food for a change was available was excellent. 4 hours and fifteen minutes saw us touching down in Mumbai. Mumbai is nearly 10000 km west of KL so we are now in another time zone. Now we are only six and a half hours ahead of Greenwich mean time so we know we are getting home by degrees.
It was dark and relatively quiet at Mumbai airport and I knew where we needed to be for our accommodation was about an hour south in the Fort area of the city. Immigration went exceedingly smoothly for India. I had completely forgot about a visa for India and arranged last minute e-visas through an online company. We only received them a couple of days ago on the eye pad. Via the medium of e-mail. India is on a big push to attract tourists at the moment. There are always travellers but they account for only a small percentage of the market.
The taxi drove for what seemed an eternity and eventually stopped outside a small dark alley. Everywhere was closed and in darkness. We didn’t have the slightest clue where we were when the taxi driver pointed down the small dark alleyway. I told Crispy to hold the taxi door open and on no account allow the guy to drive off. I didnt need to bother as a team of wild horses wouldn’t have been able to drag her off the cab until she was sure we had a refuge for the night.
As luck would have it a passer by approached us and I asked him for the address. He escorted me up the alley and straight to our digs.
It’s a strange one this. An old house run by a fashion designer that has converted some rooms into a Homestay. It’s pretty and quaint but in a remote part of town. The exact location doesn’t really matter as it’s impossible to navigate this city. It’s sprawling and distances are long. The rooms are comfortable and clean. Private bathroom. Everything we need. We are creatures of simple pleasures by now and Good old Crispy isn’t hard to please.
Bare and Crispy signing off, Feck knows where, Mumbai, India 🇮🇳
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