Bombay - London - SFO

Bombay was Bombay. And it was time to travel.

Once again, Google's ample generosity bought me a week long vacation, sorry, work-trip, to Mountain View, California. Somehow, I wasn't so excited this time. Until I bought my ticket - Virgin Atlantic, via London. And my manager offered that I could stop in London for a day if I wanted.

Thrilled, and slightly rashly, I bought my ticket with a deliberate day-long halt at London. And only after that bothered checking with my friends, Karen and Brad, if they were to be in London on that day at all, and not filming in Pakistan or something. Fortunately, they were going to be in town.

Only after, after that did it strike me that I might need a visa and other such paper work. It's disheartening, this whole visa business. That we're subject to such an annoying procedure to go anywhere. Anyway.

So, nobody seemed to know the answer to whether I needed a visa or not, and the website was a confusing mess. But it looked to me that if I had a visa to the US, and my halt was less that 48 hours, I wouldn't need a visa. So, I was hopeful. But the website was very confusing, and had too many rules and laws for me to bother reading properly.

Lots of people I asked, including one person (ahem) who very strongly declared that I was nuts if I thought I could get out of the airport, said that it didn't seem likely. All this after I'd spoken to Brad and Karen and had already jumped up-and-down in excitement three times.

But, strangely, I wasn't disappointed. This whole yoga business is doing awesome things to me.

I was like, cool, if I get to go, it's great. If not, it's fine too. I can read at the airport and all that.

Oh, and this yoga business. My packing was so compact. The last time I went to Mountain View, I took a bag three times larger for a much shorter trip. This time, I had a nice small suitcase, laptop bag, and my yoga mat.

At the airport, I asked the Virgin staff if I would be allowed to go out in London. They were pretty sure I wouldn't. So, I prepared myself to spend the night at the London airport. Reading.

Landed in London, and started looking around for where I could sleep or rest. There was a board pointing at 1. Connecting Flights OR 2. Immigration. I started walking towards connecting flights, but then asked someone if that's where I should go for a 15-hour stop. They waved me towards Immigration.

And then, boom, in 5 minutes I had a stamp on my passport - '24 hour' visa. And I was out! Not really prepared. It was 18:30hrs and I had no currency, no address, no phone, and had messaged Karen from Bombay airport saying I wasn't likely to be able to see them.

1. Bought some Pounds.
2. Tried unsuccessfully to call Karen.
3. Went online (2 Pounds) and copied notes from an email with directions, from Brad.
4. Got slightly concerned about how things would turn, and went offline.

The first bit of directions from the email, were to get onto the Picadilly Train Line and travel east to Holborn and then switch to the Central Line until Bethnal Green. Which is where they live.

Went out of the airport. With laptop bag, camera and yoga mat. And realized London was freezing cold. Went round and round and asked people to help me find the trains, went round and round some more, and finally found the trains.

It was easy after that - very well organized, dozens of signs to everything, and super-cool trains. Fast, snazzy and all that. And full of Indians.

I was slightly concerned about my next steps. I knew which station I had to get off at. But from there, I had no idea. I knew I had to somehow make a call to them, or get online and look at a map. Or email. Or walk around and ask for directions to No.w.here. Which is what their film studio is called. I pictured myself asking a proper British Uncle if he knew where I could find nowhere. And I pictured his eyes bugling out in disbelief, in the style of Inspector Goon from the Five Find-Outers legend. And then I dismissed that picture from my head. Wasn't helping.

There was a girl across from me, talking on the phone in Hindi. I was desperately wondering if I should request her to let me make a call. But I didn't. Instead I focused on my little map, criss-crossed with train lines. Boy, what an elaborate railway system - a dozen railway lines, connecting every corner of the city. And stations with fairy-tale names - Knight's Bridge, Baron's Court, Earl's Court, Cockfosters(?).

But alas, that map was pretty useless when it came to trying to locate No.w.here.

An Indian-looking man then asked me if I was new there. He indicated that my clutching of the map had got his attention. I said I had just landed, and that I sort of knew where I had to go... He said, I shouldn't ask random people for directions, but should ask the railway staff. And then he got off.

Thanks for the tip, I thought. I didn't want to get into trouble in a foreign city, with no escort and no way of reaching anyone I knew.

Bethnal Green arrived. I got off. There was a map on the railway station - but I was quickly dismayed to realize that I had absolutely no idea which way to go. I didn't know what street they were on, and I felt massively stupid for being such a retard.

Fortunately, all this lovely yoga magic was happening, and I wasn't worried or scared, and I knew things would work out. I went out of the station. It was dark, windy and cold. And deserted.

Asking for directions is a natural process when you live in Bombay. The hundred of people on the road, and the dozen super-knowledgeable paanwalas everywhere are assured means to finding your way to anywhere.

London is not = Bombay in that aspect. There were a couple of young boys on the phone outside the platform and I somehow didn't feel like asking them for help. No shops in sight. Hardly anyone on the streets.

I continued walking, some shop like lights were a few blocks down, and I saw a store near a gas station. (Just like the movies! And Indians selling the stuff!) I was happy, they were sure to help me, I thought. All I wanted was a phone booth! Or a computer. Or help.

I went to the chap and said I was lost, and that I needed to make a phone call. There was a phone right there. I was hoping that he would let me use his phone. (Take a pound, I don't care, I was thinking, sending brain-pleads to his brain.) He looked a bit skeptical, and said that I would find a phone on the railway station.

I went back into the wind and the cold darkness. I was in tears now. But I guess its natural for people to be skeptical of strangers. Maybe he thought my yoga mat was a terrorist's weapon. So, I turned and went back to the station.

It was a relief to escape the cold and see people again. I saw an Indian girl, with a bouquet of flowers in her hands, standing waiting for someone, and I went straight to her. And told her I was a bit (yea, sure) lost, and that I would be grateful for help. She immediately offered to make a phone call for me, and we started chatting. (Happy Diwali and all) and then, I got through to Karen - who was on a train to Glasgow. And she said I was lucky I managed to reach her phone!

Fortunately, Brad was in town and he came to the railway station and rescued me. So, all turned well. I was thrilled to see Brad, exactly one year after our memorable adventures film-making in Bombay.

And then things were glorious. My flight the next morning was at 9:30 am, so I only had the night to be in London, but I didn't care what we did - it was enough just that I was there!

Went to the much-discussed film studio, (was super-cool) and caught up on the one year (lots of work for Brad and lots of stories from me - the life-crisis and the yoga). And then, since I don't drink anymore, we decided we didn't want to see the inside of a London pub, but we'd see as much of the city.

Walked. For the next 4 hours! Until way past midnight.

London. Is. Gorgeous. More so than SF, I must admit. We walked through a neighbourhood full of pubs, strip-clubs. Soho. And then to posh streets - Trafalgar Square! The city was bursting with energy - so many theatres, cinemas, museums, art places! I had my camera dangling around my neck, but my fingers were numb with the cold, and the light wasn't enough for great photography anyway. Tiny alleys. Red buses.

Walked past a movie premier of the new Bond movie - fancy-fancy-gorgeous looking people.

Then walked to the Thames and crossed the river. Saw the London Eye and Big Ben, and well, as much as we could cram into the 4 hours, before I was ready to collapse with a frozen body. Stared in awe at St. Paul's Church.

Smiled because I was in Harry Potter and Enid Blyton land.

And went home, content to have seen London at night, and more than glad to be in a warm bed.