Next, and much more entertainingly, we stopped at the Dhobi Ghats: the laundry of Mumbai. This is not a joke, it's in the guidebooks and everything.
Many hotels (and private people too) send their laundry out here (I think that the Intercontinental does ours 'in house' though): there are concrete troughs with soapy and non-soapy water in, and the dhobi-wallahs soak the clothes, then beat the clothes energetically on the sides of the trough to get rid of the dirt. Brutal. Your clothes come back incredibly, fantastically clean and pressed, but they don't last as long as they would in a TenderCare wash in a UK washing machine.
We jumped back in the car (were starting to get pestered by a little beggar girl: my policy of never giving to beggars is holding firm: "it creates a cycle of dependency") and then went on to Mahatma Gandhi's house, Mani Bhavan. "The plaque on both your houses" outside. 
A short view of the house itself. He stayed here on his trips to Mumbai. You can see that it's a lovely sunny day today - much better than last Saturday.
There are some interesting signs with some of his bon mots: 
A school room:
A room of little models of important stages in his life:
His bedroom, with spinning wheels (the symbol in the middle of the Indian flag is a spinning wheel at his suggestion) and sandals (as dry as...):
His bust (it's interesting how good a portrayal Ben Kingsley did... perhaps not pouty enough though):
After this visit, we got back in the car and drove on, past Victoria Terminus again, and again the driver didn't want to stop (no parking... tomorrow ma'am.)
And the Flora Fountain (not Floral, as I first thought): 
We stopped at the same store as we had last time, but this time the driver didn't suggest we go inside, but we walked from here down to the Gateway of India:
We were descended upon (much more than last time) by people trying to sell us photos (instand or otherwise), postcards, and this chap, a Jain holy man who grabbed our wrists and tied coloured strings around them, gave us some small sweets and put a tika mark on our foreheads. The annoying postcard seller who was hanging around said that today is a holy day for the Jains, and that we should give him some money for the church "like 1000, 1500 Rupees". Aye, Right. I don't think so. We gave him 100Rs each and reckoned that he was pretty lucky.
A few yards later on I was grabbed by a tiny Indian woman who tied a string of jasmine flowers around my wrist "no money, no money". Again, Aye Right. She may not ask for money, but she hung around for the rest of the time I was at the Gateway, and eventually I gave her 10Rs because she was tiny and cute and smiled a lot.
The far side of the Gateway (out to sea) is where the boats to Elephanta Island run from. The sea looked nice and calm today (unlike last weekend when it was really rough). In fact, last time the far side of the Gateway was blocked off (perhaps too much chance of waves washing people away):
From there, back through town to Marine Drive. Don't say "Boo!"
A nice macho Indian hug: 
Then we headed back to the hotel (they are wearing football shirts for a reason: England/Paraguay tonight, don't want to be late!), pausing briefly at Hajiali Mosque to take a long shot photo. I hope we can come back again and go right out to the Mosque (at the right tide conditions: the island is cut off at high tide and you just have to sit it out and wait).
I opted to avoid drunken revelry at the Marriott, instead I stayed back to use the spa and make phone calls (nice!) and whilst I was sitting at my desk typing away, a rumpus started up outside: drums, Indian music and singing. In the shanties outside the hotel, there was a procession of some sort under way:
Perhaps this is to do with the Jain festival. There seemed to be about 6 drummers, and music through some speakers (a bit high-tech!) and then some "dignitaries" wearing bright clothes with flowers around their necks. They processed from house to house, pausing by each one.
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