We had an ambitious target heading from Jalgaon. 3 trains needed to take us first to the outskirts of Mumbai where a connection would whisk us east before the final narrow gauge "toy" train climbed the steep slopes
to the hill station of Matheran. Leaving at 7.45am (only 1 hour late) we made it, climbing into the small trains carriages for the final stage of the journey in the company of a large group of transvestites/transsexuals/lady-boys who giggled and squealed the entire journey like excited schoolgirls! This small train took 2 hours to wind its way up the steep slope navigating some of the tightest bends in the world (according to the guide book). Arriving at the station we then had a 20 minute walk to get to our chosen accommodation isolated on the plateau, there are no motor vehicles allowed on the top. The peace and quiet was a welcome escape. We
were full board for a mere 1500Rs (or 10 pound each) per night and were provided with more food than we could ever have hoped to get through. In between feeds we attempted to walk around the perimeter to some of the spectacular viewpoints (though the haze was incredibly thick) passing many abandoned buildings, relics of the early 20th century when Matheran was a popular escape for the ruling colonials. Otherwise we simple read, slept and tried to fend off the monkeys who appeared at every meal time despite one of the staff keeping a close watch out. After 3 nights we had to leave for Mumbai and thinking it would be faster we had arranged for some porters to help take our luggage the 3km to the bus stop for the 7am bus. !0 minutes late, at 6.10am, a tiny elderly lady turned up and promptly put both rucksacks on her head despite our protests. Expecting her to be crushed at every step we
persevered for 5 minutes before insisting that we would take them ourselves which would be much quicker. We would still be walking now otherwise. Frog marching along the railway track we arrived just in time only for the bus then fail to navigate the first 2 hairpins. Much reversing and burning rubber later we made it to the bottom and caught the commuter train into Mumbai, spoiling ourselves with 1st class tickets which simple meant we were not forced to hang out of the doors. Having expected a serious quest to find anywhere affordable to stay, we were pleasantly surprised that the first hostel, run by the Salvation Army, had free dorm beds right in the heart of Colomba. As a result we were settled in
by 11am and free to wonder the area that includes the Gateway to India, the Taj hotel (still in scaffolding following the terror attacks a year ago) and plenty of cafes and clothes stalls. Unable to avoid the need for jobs we also had to spend a painful 4 hours on the internet. Our only full day in town was then spent first at the excellent Ghandi museum where much of my ignorance about the great man was removed followed by a couple of hours sat watching local cricket in the shadow of many grand colonial buildings before finally strolling along promenade of Marine Drive as the sun set over the skyline of skyscrapers.
As our final stop in India, Mumbai is not Indian at all. The streets are tree-lined and wide, there is little rubbish, drivers pay attention (sort of) to any traffic signals, there are no rickshaws and European chains are found everywhere ranging from coffee bars to designer clothes. A taxi sped us to the airport early on the 14th and our 2 month stay ended as we flew to Bangkok.
to the hill station of Matheran. Leaving at 7.45am (only 1 hour late) we made it, climbing into the small trains carriages for the final stage of the journey in the company of a large group of transvestites/transsexuals/lady-boys who giggled and squealed the entire journey like excited schoolgirls! This small train took 2 hours to wind its way up the steep slope navigating some of the tightest bends in the world (according to the guide book). Arriving at the station we then had a 20 minute walk to get to our chosen accommodation isolated on the plateau, there are no motor vehicles allowed on the top. The peace and quiet was a welcome escape. We 
were full board for a mere 1500Rs (or 10 pound each) per night and were provided with more food than we could ever have hoped to get through. In between feeds we attempted to walk around the perimeter to some of the spectacular viewpoints (though the haze was incredibly thick) passing many abandoned buildings, relics of the early 20th century when Matheran was a popular escape for the ruling colonials. Otherwise we simple read, slept and tried to fend off the monkeys who appeared at every meal time despite one of the staff keeping a close watch out. After 3 nights we had to leave for Mumbai and thinking it would be faster we had arranged for some porters to help take our luggage the 3km to the bus stop for the 7am bus. !0 minutes late, at 6.10am, a tiny elderly lady turned up and promptly put both rucksacks on her head despite our protests. Expecting her to be crushed at every step we 
persevered for 5 minutes before insisting that we would take them ourselves which would be much quicker. We would still be walking now otherwise. Frog marching along the railway track we arrived just in time only for the bus then fail to navigate the first 2 hairpins. Much reversing and burning rubber later we made it to the bottom and caught the commuter train into Mumbai, spoiling ourselves with 1st class tickets which simple meant we were not forced to hang out of the doors. Having expected a serious quest to find anywhere affordable to stay, we were pleasantly surprised that the first hostel, run by the Salvation Army, had free dorm beds right in the heart of Colomba. As a result we were settled in 
by 11am and free to wonder the area that includes the Gateway to India, the Taj hotel (still in scaffolding following the terror attacks a year ago) and plenty of cafes and clothes stalls. Unable to avoid the need for jobs we also had to spend a painful 4 hours on the internet. Our only full day in town was then spent first at the excellent Ghandi museum where much of my ignorance about the great man was removed followed by a couple of hours sat watching local cricket in the shadow of many grand colonial buildings before finally strolling along promenade of Marine Drive as the sun set over the skyline of skyscrapers. 
As our final stop in India, Mumbai is not Indian at all. The streets are tree-lined and wide, there is little rubbish, drivers pay attention (sort of) to any traffic signals, there are no rickshaws and European chains are found everywhere ranging from coffee bars to designer clothes. A taxi sped us to the airport early on the 14th and our 2 month stay ended as we flew to Bangkok.
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