Day 18: Morning Market Time

Back again…UEFA Cup Final on the Tele…Gold Label to my left and I do believe the captain has turned off the no smoking sign in stately manner 232.

For the past two and half weeks I’ve left my job on average at around 0445 everyday. Along the way from work to the hotel I cross what can only be described as Pike Place Market if it were really interested in selling goods and produce. I learned today the how-to’s of the marketplace from Sagar, my man with the wheel on the streets of Bombay.

The gist goes like this…the train brings in the goods from the country from the day before…the first drop-off comes at around 0415…last sell around 815…in between is simply pure unadulterated capitalism the likes of which even Jay Z would be proud of.

I stare in fear every morning of the pure rush of selling and potential damage some of this produce would do to the urinals of Bombay. This is the breeding ground of urinal social criminals. Despite my fear for the Rocamarket I realized today that my 1730 commute home on the viaduct will never deliver the same level of visual stimulation.

So as I dwindle down my days under the Bengal-Sun I reminisce on this delightfully odd period of my life in the year 2007. The lights flicker on and off in the 232 right now, which might be an indication that my Wednesday is coming to a close, much like Espanyol's UEFA cup chances and my last glass of Gold Label. Cheers.