Well, this has to be the bitchiest blog ever, and for that I apologize, but I am wiped the hell out. Got into my Bombay hotel room about four-and-a-half hours ago and sleep keeps tapping me on the shoulder, begging me to join it. Thing is, it’s 4:30 in the afternoon. And that would just be ridiculous. So I sit, too exhausted to go out. Luckily, one of the city’s more interesting bars is located right here at the hotel, so that saves me a trip. They open in an hour, so hopefully I can at least feel like I got a good start on my first night.
Oh yeah, the hotel. This Intercontinental is probably one of the nicest I’ve ever stayed in anywhere. Reminds me a lot of the Hard Rock, as it’s all glass walls and steel & wood furniture. Yes there’s a 42-inch plasma screen tv and yes the staff is incredible and yes the meal I just ate at one of the restaurants (prawn kebabs and lentils; in India, prawns aren’t shrimp, they’re like shrimp’s steroidal big brother) was fabulous. But, of course, my window opens out onto a warren of dilapidated residential buildings and the futuristic touch-sensor-panel light switch was shorting out causing a furious clicking sound that was anything but relaxing.
Hey, it’s India, right?