RTW Trip: 10 Years Later

I started re-posting old entries from my RTW Trip back in Feb for a few reasons. One was serendipity - the 10 year anniversary of the trip starting, I was back in Cape Town with my parents. Cape Town was the first place I went to on that trip. A magical start to a magical four months abroad. I had been to Cape Town four other teams in the intervening ten years, and for a sixth time, but the first time bringing my family. Go back to myself on February 24th, 2013, about to board my flight to Johannesburg, and tell me that I would not only love that trip, but love Cape Town, love traveling, love long haul flying, to go six times in 11 years? I would be speechless.

This blog started four years before that trip did. That trip wasn't the first time I had written about travel, or even done some form of trip diary. The first time was in 2010 when I went to Spain - my first international trip fully alone. I did again to some degree chronicling my cousin's wedding and my trip to India in December 2010 - January 2011. But things all changed in 2013. Traveling got thrust so quick back to the forefront of my life, my interests, and writing about it became a trip occurrence.

It's funny looking back at that trip and thinking that while I still love traveling every bit as much if not more, the way I travel and what I do has changed so much. On that trip in 2013, I stayed primarily at youth hostels (though I would "splurge" to get my own room each time). I ate at good restaurants but nothing fancy at all. I saw a lot of sites, but took tuk-tuks and rikshaws and a few taxis (Uber basically wasn't a thing yet). I took maybe ~30 pictures a day, which while was a lot at the time, seems woefully short now. In every way, I travel way better, understandably so, as a 32-year old now than I did as a 22-year old, but that more "slummin' it" (heavy quotes here...), but the memories adn the connection with traveling around and writing about it is a memory that attached, rooted itself and consumed me in all the best ways.

**quick note - the one thing I hadn't really mentioned in a lot of these of how lucky I was to do all of this. I earned a part of it, working hard to graduate early from college (granted a lot of that was due to AP courses I took in high school). But other than that, I had parents who provided for me financially. Who gave their miles for my use on the trip. Who paid for my hostels and internal flights. I made sure to pay for meals, and wanted to pay for the main tours, but even there they stepped in a bit. I'm so lucky to have them; not only because of that support but even the love of travel is something I share so innately with them**

I look back at this trips and there is a lot I'm nostalgic about in teh trip itself. Obviously I'm nostalgic of a time ten years ago, with so much of life aehad of me and all that. But really, I'm nostalgic about being able to enjoy aspects of that trip I probably wouldn't today. Fearing I'm leaning a bit too much into a "back in my day it was a simpler time...", I do long for the days of that shit Samsung Netbook, which somehow I rigged to play torrented tv shows. I long for being able to go to a very normal, but well rated, restaurant that just serves an a-la-carte menu. I even long, slightly, for the hostels and finding the little hidden gems, be it the pool and restaurant of The Lotus Lodge in Siem Reap, or meeting a bunch of cool people in Phnom Penh, or even Skype-ing (back when that was all the thing) my sister at like 3am in a college-dorm-room sized hostel room in Sydney.

I do like the fact that I was able to enjoy that style of travel when that is the price range I had, and enjoy it equally - and very specifically not "more" - now that I can travel in a more higher end way. But so much of this 2013 trip was just small little moments, slices of beauty. There's so much on it I probably won't do again. Maybe some of that has to do with me doing say one of the places over and over and over and over and over again... But so glad I did the one time. 

There's a litany of experiences I had on that trip that I never will again. Be it like coaster shopping in the stalls of Jaipur (an obsession that has stayed with me) or visiting the Chowki Dhani. Whether it was the motorcycle ride in Dalat. Maybe it is going to the night markets in Batu Ferringhi and having an Asahi and a roti canai. Maybe it was wading into my first Japanese BBQ, a weird spot named Gyu-Kaku, in Osaka, combing through images and broken English to order neck and achilles and a bunch of weird shit that I would love.

So many small moments of beauty across 110 days, ones burned in my memory. Yes, I'm happy that I've carried forward not only the love of traveling, but the lvoe of painstakingly chronicling it. Granted, I still don't think I'm any better writing about traveling in 2023 than I was in 2013 (potentially worse, definitely more long winded). But I still love doing it as much. I still love planning trips, something that was never really a concern until that 2013 trip made me create a way of structuring a trip itinerary in Excel that was so fit for purpose my whole friend group over the years started using it. I still love the joy of taking off and landing. I still love all of it. 

But I also love that I left part of it behind, but can find beauty in those moments. To close this retrospective, I'll list six weird ones and then wrap up.

First let's start with the first real memory of the trip, walking from my hostel of The Altona Lodge, to the V&A Waterfront, going through the Green Point Park and Soccer Stadium, with Nicki Minaj's "Starships" blaring, having heard it on Pitch Perfect on the flight over. It might be the single most seared memory of the entire trip. I still maintain my love affair with Cape Town started that very second - a cloudless, beautiful evening in the most beautiful city on earth. I didn't know where the next 106 days would take me, but I know they started somehwere special.

Next let's go to my tuk-tuk ride to and from Dalat airport. Why you ask? Because that was the first moment I ever thought to myself "How cool is it that I'm in this middle of nowhere place. Like where the hell is this!?" This is a thought I've since had say throughout my trip in Patagonia, or more recently in Luang Prabang, but the random hills of Dalat was the first time. Cape Town was at least a city - as was my aborted first trip to Ho Chi Minh. Dalat was something new.

Next was the first time meeting my Aunt and Uncle in Melbourne (weirdly worded, I had met them before, just not in Australia). This was the start of Phase 2 of the trip - leaving family in India for a newer, more foreign family. The back half (Australia, Japan) was the more mysterious, the later planned, and what if I didn't get along with them. What if it was weird. What if I didn't like Australia. None of that turned out to be true - we had a great 10 days together in Melbourne. I got closer than ever with that family, including their son Gavan who is more or less my age. My related memory was my last day with them, instead of going somewhere I'm sure we had planned to, I sat in their family room playing FIFA with him. 

Next, let's circle back to India and talk about the Mangalore smell in the air and the grounds of our resort in Goa. If anything, the only real disappointment of the trip was Goa. I was picturing a haven of beach shacks and music and stuff, and our resort had none of that. I complained early, and we did venture a bit towards more of what I was expecting. But that said, for much of the time there we were confied to a resort, but there was this one time of day when the air blew in to the open verandah just right, or this one particular spot on the walk from the head house to our bungalow, that reminded me of Goa. So distinct, but impossible to describe. That itself, given I've never been to Mangalore since, and our family will hopefully close a deal to sell my ancestral home property (a good thing, all things considered), this was a lasting sensory experience.

Next is a combination memory of two nights with cousins, that in isolation may have been two of the most fun, wildest nights of the trip. First was in India at the very tail end of the trip, taking the night bus from Bangalore to my cousin's friend's coffee estate in Hareibel. We snuck some godforsaken alcohol onto the bus and drank our night away just shooting the shit. I will almost certainly never take a nigth bus again, but to have that be my last time was great. Tied with that is my cousin Vikram and my time in Sydney. It was a pure coincidence he was in Australia at the time. We were able to organize one night out which was wild, fun, incredible. I hope one day to return to The Oxford Art Factory in Sydney, but I;m sure it won't be the same without him. 

Finally, let's go to Japan, and meeting Moto in Tokyo. Moto was a friend of mine, someone who moved to the US for just high school (this apparently is like "a thing"). We became super close through a shared love of soccer - he a big Arsenal fan. He was one of three of us that got together to watch Champions League knockout games. He returned to Japan for college and while the first two summers I think he came back (his parents + younger brother were still ehre till he graduated), I had gone two years or so without meeting him. Back then there was no real way to contact except for Facebook. He was super sporadic in getting back to me. I arrived in Japan not really knowing if I would meet him. Somehow we did. Somehow we enjpoyed a couple great days and nights chilling around Tokyo, partying at night. I've not seen him since (will probably attempt a reachout when I go to Japan later this year). I may never will. It was so special to get to meet him in Japan.

That 2013 trip will never leave me. That is almost entirely a very good thing. So many memories, so many experiences, so many priceless moments. It taught me a lot, in terms of budgeting, in terms of planning (things I do far more closely in travel than in general life...). It taught me a lot about family - not included in my moments was nearly tearing up, honestly, when I saw my Mom in Bangkok a month in. It taught me a lot about different parts of the world, and while I travel in more "luxury" ten years later, I still turn down no opportunity to visit the 3rd world. It taught me about life in many ways. Maybe one day I'll get a chance to travel for four months again. People taking sabbaticals has become like all the thing in my company. But even if I do again, it won';t be the same. It won't be this perfect little combination of right time, right places, right person ready to experience. When I returned, I did that A to Z piece and chose "Zero Regrets" as my Z, something that seemed corny at the time, but was so fitting. Truly zero regrets, in the moment, and if anything somehow less regrets ten years on.

Re-Post: RTW Trip: A-B-Cs, Pt 2

**Only two aspects I want to comment on here. First, I feel so sad looking at that United Airlines mileage ticket. In the past 10 years, I've gained roughly 1.5m United Miles (gross - net about 1.3m), but the value of those has limited so much. Open jaw restrictions probably make the routing I did not feasible today, and even if it were, it would probably be 140,000 miles (if I'm lucky) vs what I paid then. Second, picking "Zero Regrets" as my "Z", which I've done pretty much every other time. I like to think it is always the best fit, rather than me just not thinking of a word that starts with "Z". Anyway, let's end this bad boy.**

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RTW Trip: The A-B-C's, Part II

The Conclusion of my A-B-C's for my Round-the-World Trip.

N is for New Meats

My second day in Cape Town I had crocodile ribs. That opened the pandora's box of strange, new meats to try out. Crocodile became Ostrich, which became Warthog, which became another dose of Crocodile, which became Gembok (an antelope like thing), and all of this was just South Africa. Africa as a continent has some really unique fauna, and I tasted most of them (I don't think they eat Elephant or Hippo or Giraffe), but my tour of meats didn't end there. The most bizarre meat was still to come, and that happened my last day in Cambodia, where I went to one place that is notable for a crawling little appetizer. When I first saw turantula on the menu, I was excited. When they brought those 8-legged things to me, I was disappointed at how small they were. When I tasted them I was excited at how good they were. I finished off this tour in Australia with Kangaroo, another tender, red meat that I wish we could have in the US.


O is for the Oxford Art Factory

This is the only entry about a night spot, mainly because there was a witness to what happened that night anyway, in my cousin who was in Sydney at the time. We left an already decent bar near the Sydney waterfront that had lively music, a livelier crowd and view of the harbor on a beautiful night. I was a little skeptical of this place on Oxford Street being as good, and although I'm not one to leave a good thing too easily, since he was paying, I left without too much of a fight. The entrance to the Oxford Art Gallery gave off a really 'club' vibe, and a large area of the place was a nightclub, but that was closed off to ticketed guests only because some DJ was playing there. Instead, we had to hang at the bar, which had a dance floor, a giant projection screen playing music videos (that weren't the same songs as the ones playing out loud), a long bar and a ton of young people. It was an interesting night out with my cousin, and I learned a lot, like how seriously they take trying to keep out people without a ticket from the many side entrances to the club, to the fact that in Australia, they might not know what an 'Irish Car Bomb' is, and instead charge you for Guinness and Jameson separately. It was a long night, but a damn fun one.


P is for Phang Nga Bay

I was sick for each of my first two days in Phuket, but our last day there, I braved my still pulsating stomach illness to join my Mom on a boat tour of Phang Nga Bay. We ended up going for a nicer (in terms of price) tour than originally planned because instead of two tours we were just doing one, and while we did miss out on the other tour, I can't say that this tour was anything but incredible. The view of the small rock islands jutting out of the crystal-clear blue water, the winding caves that we were taken in by kayak, made to duck to avoid the glistening limestone formations on the ceilings, the umpteen photo opportunities. Everything combined for a memorable day out in the Andaman Bay. Somehow, despite all that was excellent with this tour, my most lasting memory is having to pass over the free, ice-cold coke bottles that the rest of the people on the tour boat were gulping down as an antidote against the oppressive heat because of my stomach.


Q is for Quality Family Time (yeah, I know, boring)

Obviously, the main attraction, in terms of getting to spend time with family, is to visit my long lost family in Australia. I had met them all before eons ago, and met my cousin Lisa in the US two years previously, but this would be meeting them on their turf; spending time at their home. I would also get to spend some time with the part of my family that is trapped in India (I kid about the 'trapped' thing). What I didn't expect was to meet another cousin who lives in the US in Sydney, or meet cousins of my parents in Sydney, Singapore, Mumbai and other places. The height of this history lesson came at a party in Bangalore at my Mom's cousin's house for his daughter's communion, where my Uncle Anthony basically pointed out each person and told me how they were connected to me. Because of how Mangalore worked, all of my 2nd cousins on that side of the family (My Mom's paternal family) are basically my Mom's age, so that added to the confusion. The last family members I met on my trip were my Aunt and cousin who used to live in Boston, one last reminder of the family I left behind in the US and the long litany of them I had met on my voyage.


R is for Rendang and Roti (Canai)

I wanted to go to Malaysia mainly for the food. I would say the cuisine encompassed about 75% of my reasoning to go to Malaysia. My favorite part of the cuisine experience in Malaysia was probably the seafood in the night markets in Penang, the stalls that sold fish, squid, clams, scallops adn shrimp by the ounce with any sauce you want, delivered to your table as you sip a Tiger Beer listening to the music. That's life. But this is about Rending and Roti Canai, my two mainstay Malaysian dishes I eat in the US. Roti Canai was a little hard to find since it is a breakfast food there, but I was able to get it at a Muslim eatery across our hotel in KL that stayed open all night. Rendang was more plentiful, and although none of the Rendangs we sampled were what we have in the US, we tried a few of them and all were quite good. Some were more spicy, some were more saucy, some were just totally different, but the various versions of Rendang was almost the connecting line for our time in Malaysia. I went to Malaysia for food, and if I go back, it will be for food. I'm sure there are more authentic restaurants serving Rendang that we didn't try out last time.


S is for Sushi!!

From one food to another. I didn't only go to Japan to eat sushi, but it just so happened that I eat a metric ton of sushi.I had expected the sushi in Japan to be good and to also be expensive, but only half of that statement turned out to be true. Of course, there is very expensive sushi, and I would classify one place I went to as moderately expensive, but the scores of 'Kaiten Sushi' places, with their conveyor belt, generally gave me good bang for my buck. The best of those places served all their different types of sushi, which encompassed most of the ones anyone would generally want, for 126 yen (about $1.25). Another had most for 115 yen, and then a few in the 165, 199, 250, and 450 yen categories. I ate at these places too many times that by the end I was able to request what I wanted to the sushi chef (by yelling at him, which is what everyone does) in Japanese. Although the real revelation in Japanese cuisine was the Japanese Korean BBQ, sushi was what really sustained me. Sushi became a part of me.


T is for Table Mountain

Table Mountain has the distinction of being one of the Top 10 tourist attractions worldwide according to Tripadvisor. I knew this going in, so my expectations were damn high for Table Mountain. My Uncle also told me it was the best tourist attraction in Cape Town, one of the best tourist spots in the world, so my expectations were a little higher. Somehow, Table Mountain exceeded them. The view on the cable car up to Table Mountain was incredible,, but that was merely an appetizer for what was on top. Table Mountain is situated directly behind Cape Town, creating a perfect view of the entire city. There is also the view of the Western Cape down South of Cape Town. The best part may be the size of the 'Table' top, making Table Mountain a perfect place to get some exercise walking up and down the rocks. I haven't seen enough of the world to say if it really is one of the 10 best tourist attractions, but I can't see how anyone could possibly be disappointed with spending some time atop of Table Mountain.


U is for the United MileagePlus Program

When I first started researching the logistics of how this trip would work, I found that each of the three major alliances gave round-the-world tickets. Of course, those came with about a $6,000 price, so those were quickly forgotten about. Then, I found that United offered a round-the-world mileage ticket for 180,000 miles, but the amount of stipulations on that were about three pages of text, and nearly every itinerary I wanted was not allowed for one reason or another. I finally settled on two seperated mileage tickets, and then the fun began. United and its Star Alliance partners can basically connect any two places in the world, but the fun is maximizing the stopovers, layovers, airlines and airports. I was able to get everything I wanted. Somehow, despite Johannesburg creating a nearly perfect triangle with New York and Ho Chi Minh, it was acceptable to use it as a stopover, making Cape Town fall into my lap. The amount of iterations and mock-itineraries I made on United.com's MileagePlus page; the amount of combinations and permutations of airlines and airports from Melbourne to Tokyo to Bangalore. I finally settled on getting a flight on All Nippon, because why not try All Nippon. United MileagePlus gave me 12 and 16 hour layovers in Singapore. It gave me everything I wanted. You rarely get a chance to say this to an American airline (and you rarely want to), but thank you United Airlines, for making your Mileage program a joy to use.


V is for the Victoria & Albert Waterfront

The Victoria and Albert (V&A) Waterfront in Cape Town was basically my city center during my stay on the Western Cape. It helped that it was a beautiful 15-20 minute walk away from my hostel. The Waterfront encapsulated everything I loved about Cape Town in one smaller than you would think area. There was great food with interesting meats, especially at City Grill, a place that gave me the royal treatment when I decided to go a second straight day. There was a mix of interesting people with awesome South African accents. There was great beer (Milk & Honey - which was so good it deserved its own letter). There was an incredible view of Table Mountain off in the distance, and there was the nervousness of leaving the place at night in fear of being attacked. If I had to do Cape Town again, I might stay closer to Long Street, but staying near the V&A Waterfront gave me an incredible start for my trip, energizing everything that had to come.


W is for Wine Tastings  

I'm not really a wine fan. I choose to drink beer, or scotch, or mostly anything over wine. But going to two of the more exotic wine producing countries, it was hard to avoid the lure of taking a lazy trip into Wine Country. My first experience was a tour to the Stellenbosch wine region of Cape Town. Given the nature of the trip (me and about 10 other mostly 40+ year old folks), that day was more about the odd entertainment of conversing with older married folk who joked in German, Danish and (for my sake) English. The other trip was near Melbourne, it a more picturesque area, with rolling hills of wineries, glowing under a purely sunny day. I still remember the names of the Melbourne wineries. There was De Botoli, there was Helen Hills, where we had lunch and I had one of the meatiest lamb legs I've ever had, and then Chandon, which was as nice as you would think, given the brand. Even after all the wine tasting, I'm still not the largest wine fan, but at least I enjoyed them enough that I can see me doing an adequate amount of wine tasting with my future wife at some point. My interest in wine will grow greater with age, much like the wine itself, but these trips to the wine regions of South Africa and Melbourne were a nice catalyst to get this process going.


X is for Xacuti

This trip to Goa was a slight disappointment, mainly because of where we chose to stay. Instead of staying at the more active North Goa, where we stayed in January 2011, we stayed in South Goa, which is quieter, but supposedly more beautiful. That may or may not be true, but if I go to Goa again, I'm definitely staying in North Goa. Anyway, back to South Goa. Because getting shack food was a little tougher and demanded driving some distance, I had more normal Goan food this time. Xacuti, a Goan curry used to cook beef, lamb, prawn and everything else in, represents those authentic Goan flavors. It took a while to get into the groove in Goa, but the food helped. Shack food was and still is great, but having Goan curries, headlined with Xacuti, on the beach with a beer, all for around 5 dollars, is still about as good as it gets in India.


Y is for Youth Hostels

You may be asking where did I stay when I was alone. You probably aren't, but you could be. And the answer, for every place where I was alone and didn't have family living there, was Youth Hostels, courtesy of Hostels.com or HostelWorld.com, or Booking.com. I had certain rules for any place I stayed. Firstmost, was to be in my own room. I lived through a 10-bed dorm-style room in Madrid in Spring 2010, and I was never going to do repeat that harrowing experience. My second requirement was air conditioning, because staying in Cambodia or Vietnam without it would have meant certain death. The final one was Wi-Fi, which most hostels give for free. All of these qualifications were met in a lot of places that were a lot nicer than what many would expect from the term 'Youth Hostel'. My hostel in Siem Reap (The Lotus Lodge) was actually a beautiful hotel, with giant rooms, a beautifully decorated pool with a bar and lodge area near it. The ones in Japan were modern, devilishly clean buildings. The best part, though, of Youth Hostels are the youth; the people there to meet. I would have never known how fun Colombians are, or never hung out with Brisbane-ites, or never met scores of other people if not for youth hostels.


Z is for Zero Regrets

When I left JFK on February 25th, on South African Airlines flight SA204, aboard a beautiful Airbus A340-600, with three seats all to myself, I was excited, obviously, but also extremely nervous. It was daunting to be away from the US for so long, especially since I was going to be alone for about half the trip. Since these are the 2010s, with Wi-Fi everywhere, I wasn't really alone, but what if I didn't make friends at the hostel? What if I got sick? What if I got injured? What if I didn't plan this well? Luckily, other than the sick part, none of those fears were realized. Only my dreams were. This trip was a great gift from a dad who I gifted with not having to pay for an 8th term at NYU. But more than that it was a chance for me to do a trip that I would never really have the chance to do again at an age where I don't have mortgages or car leases or any other real 'adult' strings holding me back. This was an opportunity to experience three continents, nine countries and countless cities. It was a chance to do anything I wanted, within the bounds of the law of course, and eat anything I wanted, and drink anything I wanted. When I left I was dreaming of eating a black pepper at Jumbo Seafood and then telling the cab driver 'Changi Airport' while telling myself 'Home'. But when I reached Jumbo Seafood on June 7th, and finished my black pepper crab, I instead of wanting to go home, wanted to start it all over again. You only get one chance to do this sort of trip, and I had my chance. Thank God I loved every part of it.

Re-Post: RTW Trip: A-B-Cs, Pt 1

**This is my last "re-post" installment looking back at my RTW trip. Looking at the A to Z, I'm surprised how much I cared about having at least one letter for each part of the trip. By this point I had returned home, still roughly three months from starting my first job. It was a weird time, a fun time, the last real "free" time of my life, so I could put that level of exacting effort into it. Looking back, some of these are quite interesting. I'm glad I shot out the "Dalat Easy Riders" tour - out of any place I went to on the trip, Dalat is the likeliest that I will never visit again. Similarly, shouting out Milk & Honey beer is a bit sad, as Mitchell's for whatever reason stopped brewing it. Anyway, enjoy.**

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RTW Trip: The A-B-C's, Pt. I

I've done this type of thing before, with the A-B-C's of the 2010 FIFA World Cup and the 2010 NFL Season, but this is different. This is longer. There is a good chance this is the longest post I've ever done by the time it is done. Anyway, here are the A-B-C's of my trip (the first of a few trip-overview posts). I'll try to be a little creative with these, so none of these will simply be cities.


A is for Aussie Rules Football 

Well, this is a sports blog, so I'll start with the one international sport that dominated my trip. Sure, seeing the Royal Challengers Bangalore (still a terribly idiotic name) beat the Mumbai Indians by four runs was fun, but it was Aussie Rules Football that I really took too. I still feel that if Aussie Rules was an American sport (which would certainly be tough given 'Aussie' is in the name) it would be my 2nd favorite sport after 'American Rules' Football. The strategy is incredible in that game, the action end-to-end. Even sluggish defensive games seem fun and exciting. My cousins' favorite team Essendon is still #3 in the league, and if they continue to be good that will probably get me to get up (or stay up) to watch some of the AFL playoffs. Australia loves sports in a way that seems entirely American, since they follow many different sports (compared to Europe, where it is mainly just football), and it helps that I stayed in Victoria, but Aussie Rules, with their crazy fans, their 'Inside the NBA'-lite weekly show, and strategy any sports fan would love quickly became my favorite.


B is for Black Pepper Crab

One of my mental images when I was planning the trip was eating a giant Black Pepper Crab on Singapore's East Coast Seafood Center, with the planes descending into Changi flying overhead. In the beginning, this was an image of the last thing I would do on the trip (apart from flying), but I soon added a second near-full-day layover in Singapore on the way to Melbourne, making the image double in my mind. I was able to go to Jumbo Seafood both times, and eat those massive crabs. I have no real idea how they make the Black Pepper sauce taste so good. It permeates through the entire crab without being too saucy and messy. The cleanliness factor is important, because as a messy eater working with a crab that weighs nearly a kilo, there is a high chance for it being an extremely messy exercise. Somehow, I classed myself up to the point that I barely made any mess. So much so that I was able to save one of the lobster (or in this case, crab) bibs they gave me because it was so pristine. Jumbo seafood spoiled me, as now I want any trip to India to end with a day in Singapore and a black pepper crab at Jumbo seafood. No final leg of a trip will be complete without it.


C is for Columns at Ranakpur

I didn't really want to go to Rajasthan when I was planning my trip. I have disliked doing any touristy activities in India after a disappointing trip to Kerala after my cousin's wedding in Early 2011. Rajasthan was the idea of my Mom, and I went along because it is hard not to. Luckily, Rajasthan was surprisingly entertaining, with good food, good sights, good shopping (which for me meant good hand-crafted coasters) and a lack of humidity. However, nothing from that part of the trip was as memorable as the Jain temple in Ranakpur. It took us about two hours to get there from Udaipur, and we had to wait around for another 45 minutes, meandering around the temple, before the cameras (and the foreigners) were let inside. Nothing in those Jain temples are more impressive than their array of Columns, none similar to any others. I would estimate there were around 1,000 columns in that temple (quick note: estimate could be very, very wrong, but it was a large number), all carved with exacting detail. The whole temple was a brilliant testament to what India could be as a tourist destination.


D is for Dalat Easy Riders

My only regret with the Dalat Easy Rider tour is that I didn't get to ride the motorcycle. The Dalat Easy Rider tour was the first trip I did after I recovered from my first of two stomach upsets. The first bout (which took up my entire stay in Ho Chi Minh City was the worst of the two, and I was still a little unsure if I was totally healthy when the day started, but the feeling of the cool Dalat air rushing through my body, and the incredible views of the Vietnamese forest hills above, below and underneath me. The temples were all situated on these hills, serenely isolated from the rest of Dalat. The most fun was the incredible little roller-coaster descent to the Datanla Waterfall, but that whole day was memorable. I didn't really know too much about Dalat, and my tight schedule made this basically the only large trip I could take when I was there, but my God was I so happy I did. They have tours where you can rent the motorcycle yourself, but it probably was more fun being the passenger, just enjoying idyllic, forested Vietnam.


E is for Eating and Observing

No city can really go wrong with a CN Tower type tower. It is strange because the only thing those towers are selling is the ability to view the city from up above. They have no residential or commercial purpose because all they are are elevator shafts and a few revolving floors. Still, their allure is pretty hard to avoid. I went to many cities with these types of buildings, and what my Mom and I quickly realized is that the price of actually having food at one of the revolving restaurants is a damn good deal when considering the price of not having food at one of the revolving observation decks. We did this little scam at the Menara KL in Kuala Lumpur, but there we only had tea. I took the scam to its natural conclusion with a lunch buffet at the Sydney Tower. The buffet there was really good. They gave a ridiculous amount of meat choices, all presented really well. In the end, the view actually became kind of secondary to the food in Sydney. I went to two observation decks sans food in Melbourne (The Eureka Tower) and Tokyo (The Tokyo SkyTree), but they weren't the same.



F is for Flinders St. & Federation Square

Melbourne isn't Sydney. It doesn't have the array of sights to see, the world-famous Opera House, or the hustle and bustle. But it is probably the best walking city I went to on my trip (some of this is probably due to the fact that I walked in Melbourne more than any other city). And during my various walks around Melbourne, Federation Square, right opposite the ornate entrance to Flinders St. Station, was my center point. From there, you got a view of everything. The cluster of buildings to the East, the other cluster of government buildings and financial offices to the West, and the Eureka Tower and the newer buildings to the South. You had the MCG off to one side, and the wiry Eiffel-Tower styled top of the Arts building on one side. From there, I enjoyed a few brews at the International Brew House who's name I now forget, but it was just a great way to end an evening in Melbourne.


G is for General Pol Pot

Call it ignorance, but I didn't really know a lot about the Khmer Rouge genocide that Cambodia endured in the 70's before heading to Phnom Penh. It never had the cache or the scope of the Holocaust, but seeing what I saw and experiencing what I experienced, there is a definite argument to be made that it was worse. What Pol Pot and his cronies did in Cambodia defies explanation, defies everything, really. To bash babies' brains into tree stumps. To smash peoples' skulls with hammers and axes. To play loud propaganda music to cover up the shrieks and cries for help. All of it for no real reason. What is left of the Pol Pot regime is basically the 'Killing Fields' outside of Phnom Penh and the old school-house-turned-torture-prison-turned-museum in Phnom Penh, and both make for a chilling, lasting, day of witnessing just how evil evil can get.


H is for Haribeil

I mentioned how when leaving Tokyo, I was not sure if having those last 10 days in India was a mistake or not. I left India a month-and-a-half earlier wanting more time with my family, but came back dreading the heat, the humidity and all the countless other pains that one has to deal with in India. But if anything made me happy to spend those last 10 days was my trip to my cousin's friend's estate in little Haribeil.There is no better way to describe the scenery and beauty of the estate region of India than by saying that it is unlike anything you would imagine would be in India. There is nothing Indian about it, apart from the semi-frequent power outages. When I was in the estate, it was hard to imagine that this is the same country that I was sweating my skin off two days in earlier, wilting under the oppressive heat. No, this is a different India. This is the India you see in the 'Incredible India' tourism ads that are on TV every now and then. Put aside the fact that the people there and what we did during those few days was also memorable, but I've done the same with those same people in Bangalore. No, the estate was the star. That and her shortbread.


I is for Intestinal Issues

When I travel to India, I go in knowing that I will most likely get sick at some point. It is just going to happen. I usually don't get sick enough to throw up, but sick enough to ruin a few days. Well, this time I never really got sick in India. That's the good news. The bad news is I got sick two other times outside India. The first came as a real punch to the gut, as all of a sudden on my flight from Johannesburg to Bangkok, I started feeling ill. Within an hour, I was fixed in a catatonic state, zombied out and lightheaded. The stomach illness ended up lasting throughout my three days in Ho Chi Minh City, ruining that city for me. In the end, I've put that bout on having tap water in Cape Town the night before I left. The second was more normal, coming from indulging in one too many spicy Thai dishes in my first day in Bangkok, and I only exacerbated that bout by having oily food on the second evening of the bout and a Gin and Tonic on the third. I don't know what consumed me to do that, but it did lead to me eating a $7 Naan. So there's that.


J is for the Japan Rail Pass

Japan's railway system is world famous, for all the right reasons. It is ridiculously precise, pulling into the station at the exact right position at the exact right time. Of course, one of these right reasons isn't its price. Traveling by rail is not cheap, but Japan does its tourist a service by offering the Japan Rail Pass, allowing unlimited access to their JR Trains, including the slower (but still super-fast) versions of their Shinkansen Bullet Trains. The passes aren't cheap, but they are still a damn good deal. The big problem is that Japan doesn't really advertise this pass, and you have to buy the voucher to buy the pass outside of Japan. The trains, after all the messiness of getting the pass and getting on a train, were wonderful, with Wi-Fi, seats that recline far further back than any economy seat on a plane, and girls rolling food and drink carts through the cars, even selling beer. The hours I spent on the train allowed me to watch most of Season 1 of Game of Thrones and get near Mt. Fuji. By the end of my time in Japan, I became a veteran at riding the JR Rail, knowing how to confidently flash my pass to the guards, knowing where to line up to easily enter the train, and knowing just where the AC Outlets are located on the trains.


K is for Kangaroos!

Other than meeting my family, there was probably nothing I wanted to do more in Australia than fiddle around with the native wildlife. Australia's probably more famous for its wildlife than anything else, and nothing is more recognizable than those weird, hopping marsupials. My Uncle and Aunt took my sister to a wildlife farm on Phillip Island, near Melbourne, that had free range kangaroos that you can go up to, pet and feed them (and the Emus, but I was terrified of the Emus, with their velociraptorian faces and height). I never expected to see so many kangaroos and so many of them be willing to hop right over to you and beg for food. The kangaroos really were like hopping dogs. My sister told me that when she went, the kangaroos shied away from her and everyone else at the park. I was astounded by this, because they flocked to me like sheep coming to a shepard. The best moment, though, was my cousin Lisa noticing the little head of a baby kangaroo popping intermittently out of the pouch of the mother kangaroo. That basically forced me to be a paparazzi for a while, trying to snap a picture of a kangaroo baby. I was able to, and I was also able to throw feed at a sleeping koala in hopes of waking it up (failed), and was able to have a picture of me being terrified of an emu (success). All in all, a great, uniquely Australian, day.


L is for Leopold Cafe

I never really knew about Leopold Cafe until November 26th, 2008, when Mumbai was attacked. The Leopold Cafe was one of the targets, and a few people died amidst the hundreds of rounds fired into that Cafe. I had no idea it was so close to my Grandparents' apartment, but now I do. Now I also know who the manager is, what the rules of the upstairs is, the protocol for entering with a backpack, and who some of the main waiters are. Mostly because of the attack, but also due to the preponderance of foreigners, common opinion is that Leopold Cafe is more of a tourist attraction than a place to eat, but I have to disagree. Leopold Cafe's food in genuinely good. That whole little hamlet off the Causeway near the Taj hotel is littered with good restaurants that are probably a little too commercial to ever get the credit that they deserve. Both times before I left Mumbai for the airport was go to Leopold for one last meal, one last few hours spent people watching the foreigners having fun in my old family hometown.


M is for Milk & Honey

Nothing I drank had the impact of Milk & Honey Beer, courtesy of Mitchell's Scottish Ale House in the V&A Waterfront in Cape Town. I went there too many times, and drank Milk & Honey too many times. I actually enjoyed some of the other craft beer they had, but the Milk & Honey beer was the best beer I have ever had. My last day there, I had too many mugs of Milk & Honey, and because of fearing being hungover during my flight because of those beers, I had tap water in my hotel, which I believer directly led to my sickness that ruined my time in Ho Chi Minh City. Would I trade not having those extra Milk & Honey's for being able to get out of bed in Ho Chi Minh City? Yeah, I probably would. But Milk & Honey led to a lot of great things in Cape Town, most of which is ensuring that I have to go back.

The Nuggets and a Special Win

I remember the first time I started noticing the basketball twitterati that I follow post clips and getting ridiculously excited by the whimsical, magical passing of Nikola Jokic. This was probably in the 2017-18 season, when he took a leap, and then probably reached an apex in 2018-19, when teh Nuggets made the playoffs for the first time in the Jokic era, where he got 1st team All-NBA. Murray hadn't yet broken out, and the Nuggets lost in 7 games to the Spurs, the last great Pop hurrah in reality. It was a defining moment.

I can't say I was on the Jokic train all back then. In the 2018-19 season, he was still a bit plodding, still overweight (which he very much is not now). He did get tired late in games, notably playing for his soon to be genius standards, pretty meekly in the loss to the Spurs. But man could he pass. Truly the greatest passing player I've ever seen since Steve Nash. He shot in this weird, unorthodox way, but it went in way more often than it should. He continued his brilliance the next year, and with Jamal Murray taking a leap in the bubble, the Nuggets announced themselves. It took a while, but three years later they've reached the Rocky Mountain-top.

I don't know the last time I was more pleased to watch a team win - and win in dominant fashion. Sure, would the sports fan in me have been more excited for a 6-or-7 game series? But in the end, watching the Nuggets roll Miami 4-1, after rolling the Lakers 4-0, after embarrassing the Suns in Game 5-6, it was just as good. 

The Nuggets are a special team, led by a truly special player. It's so easy to say it now, but Jokic has been this good for three years now. He thoroughly deserved the MVP each of the last two seasons. He didn't have the help needed to go deep, but still did get the Nuggets to the 2nd round in 2021, and a closer than it seemed 5-game loss to the eventual champs last year. This year they were healthy, this year he had the help, so we all could enjoy Jokic's brilliance.

What was even better was to see him play so focused - gone were some of the more whimsical passes, but what was left was exact passing, constant movement and screens, and an ability to dominate games basically on command. He spun a perfect weave over this playoff run, cementing his legacy for all time.

But what makes the Nuggets truly special is the spate of brilliance that extends beyond him. Jamal Murray has never made an all star game (something that will almost definitely be fixed next year). No matter, he's illuminated brightly on the postseason stage the last two times he's been able, this time calmly draining his patented fall-back jumpers to quell late Heat pushes in Game 4-5. He is the perfect co-pilot for Jokic and a player who truly still has another level to get to.

Aaron Gordon is a perfect role guy in that he is way more talented tahn the average role guy but so committed to that role. You would think a guy who was a star in college, then the man in Orlando, may find it tough to take a fully secondary role. But no, he's found solance in the dominance of defensive excellence, of hitting the occassional shot, of being a matchup nightmare - as he so perfectly showed at the start of Game 1 when he scored 12 first quarter pointrs just bullying smaller players.

Michael Porter, Jr. was an incredible shooter who offered little else. He would get lost too much on defense, he would get passive at times. The fact he was a very, very productive player while shooting like garbage from three in this series was a testament to a work ethic, to a growth rate, to a player who had it all clicked - I can cut and Jokic will get me the ball, I can drive and because I'm 6'10" I can get to the rim, I can contest shots as good as anyone because I have gumby arms. It has all clicked.

Kentavious Caldwell-Pope and Bruce Brown were perfect role players. Switchable, aggressive defenders, better offensive players off the dribble than you would ever expect, or truly ever really need from depth players. But they could do it all. I remember wondering why they traded Mounte Morris and Will Barton basically for KCP, but I wonder no more.

Mike Malone has somehow survived 8 seasons, including his first three not making the playoffs. It's incredible he did last this long, but that makes him the only coach Jokic ever had, Murray ever had, and so many else. He's calm when he needs to be, aggressive when he needs to be, and had his team so well coached to adapt to the Heats' bag of tricks. 

The Nuggets should not be a surprise. So many of the NBA-verse extol their 8-game run after picking up Aaron Gordon in teh 2021 trade deadline - a period where they went 7-1. Of course, Murray tore his ACL, short-circuiting what could have been a title team. It took pause for 1.5 years, but they picked right back up. They tormented the league with a passionate exactness and determination that was surprising for a team with a lot of players who would have been called "soft" probably two years prior. It was a dominant run in every way, and even better things are potentially on the horizon.

The top players are locked in, and while they may ahve a decision to make between Porter and Gordon in a couple years, there is a lot of hope on the continued development of Christian Braun (and Peyton Watson, who barely played but people in Denver seem to love). Jokic is going nowhere. His quasi-weird performance-act of being bored with it in front of the cameras was a facade masking a guy who seemed to ahve a total ball when the cameras were more off (see the pool push with him and Murray) and is clearly invested a ton in being a world class basketball player (as his getting himself into shape and better and better every year will attest). Murray can improve further. Porter should get better as he continues to invest in the non-shooting elements of his game (granted, his back could always be an issue). They had a perfect brew of role players, but honestly did before as well, like the Will Barton's and Mounte Morris's were before they were pushed unexpectedly into starting roles.

The Nuggets are a great team, a great organization, with an all-time great at its core. They are the modern league in so many ways. They are the best the NBA had to offer this year, and the best that they NBA may have to offer for a while. It was a long road from NBA twitter guys gushing over magical passes from a sluggish oaf six years ago, to a team that romped its way through the playoffs, but it was a special outcome by a special team at the end of the day.

Re-Post: RTW Trip - Day 105 - Coming Home

**So somehow we've reached the end of this journey, might have been even quicker to relive the duration of the trip ten years later than it was ten years back. I'm surrpised how matter of fact I am about the last day in Singapore and the flight back. There was a little hit of nostalgia at the start, but mostly about what is truly a groundbreaking moment - me taking out a tiny little netbook the first dinner at Sevruga. My life changed that day, putting on the travel writer hat in some degree from that day onwards. As I say in the story, that runnign diary gave me a reason to keep sane throughout, both in that trip and all trips since. I'll have another post about the trip as a whole, but for now i'll give you the last of a four month journey.**

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Day 105: The Last Waltz


I'll have to credit the popularity of Sevruga for this whole exercise. That expensive, fusion place in Cape Town's V&A Waterfront. That's the reason this all happened. I was jetlagged and ready for bed late on Monday, February 25th, and I decided, probably against better judgement, to be a little extravagant for my first meal of my trip (not including the food on South African Airways). They asked me to wait at the bar until my table was ready, and all I had in my hand was that little Samsung Netbook in my backpack. I decided to, instead of sit lonely at the bar, to open it up and start writing about my flight to South Africa.


One hundred and five days later, and about 60 entries later, it's all over, and I have the wait time in Sevruga to thank. The RTW Trip Diary became what connected the entire trip, what kept me sane, what kept me wanting to experience as much as I can. It became a way to unwind during long days after hours of walking around. It became a way to give myself something to do during my solo meals back in the first few weeks of the trip. Like most things, it became harder to do when I reached my family and reached the (relatively) slow, banal life of Bangalore. Still, the diary served as a lasting document for a trip of a lifetime.


It's hard to go back in time and remember how I felt that first night. I was surprised at how easily three and a half pages came that day. I kept apologizing for the length of my diary entries during my time in South Africa as they went close to four full pages on Word by the time I was done. Of course, little did I know that they would stay the same length and I would soon stop apologizing for it. I never felt really happy with how I was writing the whole diary. This trip taught me a lot of things about different cultures, different ways of life, the joys and pains of air travel, but it didn't teach me the clear difference between a diary and a guidebook.


I wasn't sure how I would feel when I was returning back to the US. The fight home is never as fun as the flight away from home (it doesn't help that the flight out is almost always a night flight while the flight home is a day flight). It helped that Singapore Airlines basically pulled out all the stops on this flight. They served a really nice breakfast with really good scrambled eggs, and then Beef Rendang for lunch right before we landed in JFK. Having Beef Rendang listed on their menu brought out so many interesting emotions out of me, as I immediately remembered just how much I love Beef Rendang in the US, to how much I enjoyed tasting different variations of Beef Rendang in Malaysia, to a sign that Singapore Airlines could pull past Etihad, of the famed lamb biryani, as my favorite airlines.


Of course, the Beef Rendang wasn't a great version of it (compared to the lamb biryani on Etihad which was one of the best lamb biryanis I've had), but that didn't spoil the flight, in which I also finished watching Season 4 of Arrested Development (I'll have more on that later). It was tough to see that 'Time to Destination' clock wind down on the flight, but I knew this day was coming sooner or later. That's why I was happy to be doing it on Singapore Airlines, the last of my 30 flights.


I'm the kind of person that after a trip passes its halfway point, I start to feel a longing sense of dread about the impending end of the trip, so you could imagine how I was feeling nearing the end of this trip. I was afraid it would take the enjoyment of my day layover in Singapore. I was afraid it would take away the enjoyment of that last flight. Luckily, the knowledge that I wasn't returning to 10th Grade helped.


When I reached JFK, I did start to feel a bit sad, and when I finished the long walk from the gate to the ground floor Immigration area at JFK's T4, I turned to the large glass windows showing the tarmac. I couldn't see the Singapore plane, but I did see something that brought back a huge host of emotions. I saw that South African Airways A340-600, the plane that I started this whole 105-day trek on. I then remembered that that flight is scheduled for 11:00 AM, while the scheduled arrival time of my flight in Singapore was 10:55. As I looked out, the South African Airways plane was pulling back from the gate. As I saw that beautiful bird being tugged away, I wondered if I would, if I could, finagle myself back on that plane and go on this 105-day journey all over again. My bank account says no, but would I do it? Of course so, and that's the best way to describe any vacation. Glad to be back, but less glad than having the chance to do it all over again.

Re-Post: RTW Trip - Day 101-103 (6/4 - 6/6): Mumbai

**Other than maybe the days I was writing about my time in Cape Town, no entry filled me with more weird feelings of nostalgia than this one. I think its because (a) there is a clear tinge of sadness that this whole trip was coming to a conclusion, and (b) I've been to Mumbai many times prior and since. There are some highlights here, like me slamming Bangalore, and my cousin Robin and I venturing out to Lower Parel, a palce we've been to many more times. The Irish House is the setting of some of our best (hazy) memories, talking for hours about bullshit and sports and music and the like in that weird Irish Pub in the heart of Mumbai. This was a couple trips before we discovered Luna Lounge, but it was while The Blue Frog was still open and buzzing. As I understand, they closed due to some rental dispute, but man I'm shocked something similar didn't replace it, as the place was full every time I went. What really hits me though is the story about the power outage and venturing to The Taj. It's still abit shocking it happened. I've been to Mumbai five times since and never experienced anotiher power outage. All my trips prior to 2013 I can't remember one either (granted I was very young for a few of those). There is a decent chance I won't face one of those again, but it of course happened at 2am, and happened to give us an opportunity to experience The Taj late at night. The next re-post of this probably will be the finale, but it was cool to remember that so close to this ultimately 105-day journey ending, there was still some cool stuff going on**

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Day 101-103: Walking Up #18

*This and the following entry will be my last two detailing my RTW trip, which is somehow ending, despite it both feeling really, really long (I mean, it was effing Winter when I left the US) and really short (wasn’t it just two weeks ago when I was being given complimentary Sambuca for going to City Grill two nights in a row in Cape Town?). Since this one takes place in Mumbai, a city where I didn’t do much actual sightseeing apart from taking a launch ride out to the Elephanta Caves (probably worth it), it won’t be too long. I’ll probably have actual thoughts on the last part, which includes one more visit to Singapore and the longest flight sector of my entire trip (Singaopore to New York). That flight stops in Frankfurt for refueling, so the New York to Johannesburg flight will still be the longest individual flight I’ve taken. Still, there’s more to talk about there than writing about me going to Leopold for the umpteenth time.*

When I arrived in Mumbai, fresh off of my short flight on IndiGo, I was reminded one more time that Mumbai is a City, while Bangalore is an oversized town. Driving through Mumbai you get the feeling you are in a city. I certainly do, everytime we reach Marine Drive, which always looks better at night than it does during the day. I also remembered just how lucky I was with my timing for this trip. The air was extremely hot and humid, meaning one thing: Monsoon is Coming. Within three weeks, the sky will turn cloudy, and it won’t be blue for another two months. The specter of rain will hang over every day during that time. I just missed it. Of course, after my face sweating continuously while walking around Mumbai, I could’ve done with some of nature’s tears, but not having to deal with the mud and slop that arises during Monsoon season is still better than having to deal with the increased heat.

By the time I left Mumbai four nights later, entering my Tab Cab in front of the Esperance building, heading for the airport, I kind of felt like this was the end of something special, which it was. I was glad to have spent the last few days of my trip in Mumbai, just as I was glad to spend the last few days of the 1^st half of my trip, which I call the 3^rd World Half, on Mumbai. In a way, this trip was built on symmetry. The longest flight was the first. The second longest flight was the last. Each time I left India I went on the same flight, SQ423, to Singapore, and each time I had about a full day to wander around Singapore.

The similarities didn’t end there. Each time before that flight, I went to Leopold Café one last time. I’ll admit that I never went to Leopold Café before the terrorist attack, but why would I, since I couldn’t really enjoy Leopold Café in all its glory back in 2001. Leopold Café, I feel, is a little underrated as a place to eat. Sure, they’re known as an incredible people watching spot and a place to drink a tower of ice cold beer (as was Sports Bar Express, RIP), but I think their food gets a little but tossed aside. Their Chinese and Continental Food isn’t the best, but their Indian food is almost always good. I’ve had a few of their kebabs and a few of their curries, and they’ve all been good. Leopold Café may be famous because it was attacked, but it was attacked because it was already a famous spot, and for a reason.

I ventured out back to my old stomping grounds in Lower Parel as well. I met my friend back at The Blue Frog, a famous lounge with live music in Lower Parel. It’s tucked away on a street in the back and beyond of Lower Parel, and is very hard to find if you don’t know where it is. Last time, I didn’t really know where it was and it took me about 30 minutes in the Mumbai heat to walk up and down and find it. No such problems this time. Before The Blue Frog, we first went to Zaffran, a Mughlai restaurant on that same begotten alley. This one is closer to the main road, so if I knew it as a landmark last time it would have been so much easier to find The Blue Frog. The food at Zaffran was about as good as the décor, as we were seated on a circular table inside a hanging wooden swing (I’m not sure how to better describe it). Zaffran was good, and while there was no live music in Blue Frog that night, I finally had a place adhere to one of my music requests, which was a relief after being turned away at Man U. bar and Leopold’s upstairs.

My cousin Robin and I returned to Lower Parel the next night (my last true ‘night’ of the trip), this time going to The Irish House, an Irish-pub styled bar that played loud music and had a lively, jovial, young crowd. Robin and I did quite well that evening (probably a little too well), enjoying the moment, connecting for the last time during our trip and just enjoying what was going on. It was such a different experience than the previous night.

Power almost never goes out in Mumbai. It never goes out, another reason why Mumbai feels like a city whereas Bangalore feels like an oversized town. Of course, it did the night before, going off around 2 AM. Because the power never goes out in Mumbai, most buildings don’t have generators like they do in Bangalore, so we were screwed. My Aunt told us that likely it would only come back in the morning, which was basically a quasi-death sentence to me. Robin and I decided around 3 AM that we couldn’t take it anymore, and we went for a walk to the Taj. The Taj hotel, the more famous terrorist attack target, turned Robin and I away  when we tried to enter around 6 PM one day during my trip in 2011. We have no idea why, butt making up that another cousin of mine was staying there and having them call the fake room probably didn’t help (this happened after they turned us away originally).  We entered the Taj with no problem. I guess they don’t feel that terrorists arrive at 3AM.

One of their restaurants stays open 24 hours a day, so we headed there and tried to waste as much time as we could when splitting one $20 entrée. Soon, we got the fettuccini, which was as well made as I could have expected given the price and the place that we were eating in. There was, amazingly, one other British family there, and we soon decided that they must be staying at the Taj (unlike us) and had arrived in Mumbai earlier that night, and just gotten in and were hungry. It is this type of weird background stuff that we were doing to keep ourselves semi-awake a 3:30 AM. We finished our meal and briefly considered going to sleep in their foyer at a place where the people behind the desk had an obstructed view of us. We decided against that and returned back to Esperanca to brave the heat, and we did. Miraculously, around 4:45, the power came back, a gift from God. I had my best sleep ever in that apartment that night.

Going back to the night at The Irish House, we left around 1:45, after finishing what we ordered during their 1:30 last call. This is just another reason why I love Mumbai, because things don’t close early. Of course, they close early enough that we returned to Esperance in time to catch VH1 ZZZZ and have some last few Kingfishers from the shady Gokkul Wine Shop. I’ll remember The Irish House, and Leopold, and Zaffran, but for some reason, I’ll remember VH1 ZZZ… more than anything.