We landed on 27th April, early in the morning, in Mumbai (the new name of Bombay). When leaving the air-conditioned hall of the airport, we were surprised by the tropical stickiness of the air despite the early hour (it was 6.30am). Our Sikh driver invited us to climb in his yellow and black taxi. Off we went, towards the old Bombay where our hotel was.

The city woke up softly; lots of those who sleep in the street were still lying down. The city was full of colours and was bursting with vitality: huge trees were growing between the lanes of the suspended highway, already kids were running around, and animals were wandering freely along the road.

The driver accidently gave us the present of a detour by the famous ‘Gates of India’, which are a national symbol!
                  Gates of India, Mumbai

We discovered Mumbai during the following days. We strolled quietly between the Victorian buildings, which have a strange architecture with a mix of British and Moghol styles. We found Mumbai relaxing and that really amazed the Indians and other tourists we met. The Indian anarchy contrasts with the Iranian harshness and order. The mind like the body felt freer.
                      Mumbai (Bombay)

We then went off to Goa. This little state of India still belonged to Portugal less than 50 years ago. We made a cultural stop in Panaji and Old Goa (Oh! The beautiful Portuguese churches!) before we set our hearts on the beach of Palolem for a week of idle life. Fine sand and coconut trees…what a delightful picture!
                   The beach of Palolem

Our batteries recharged, we went south towards Honnavar and our first ‘bringer of hope’ in India.

François
(Traduction: Yolene Dabreteau)