Sweat shop invite

Wednesday 6th Nov

A lazy start meant we missed our free hotel breakfast (what a shame), so we popped into Fatima's Bakery next door. We thought it must be good because every time a tuk-tuk driver stopped to ask a local where our hotel was, "next to Fatima Bakery" was always the response. The driver would nod and instantly know where to go.

With pastries in hand, we tuk-tukked through the city to book our train tickets to Mysore from the station. At the station, we found a tourism desk and asked where we needed to go to buy our tickets. We were directed to the senior citizens, physically impaired, and foreign tourist counter.

We queued for ages to get our forms, and then the ticket woman went for a break. It was Indian man OAP central, and Jamie soon got pushed out of the front of the queue by the feisty old men. When the lady returned, it was chaos. These cute, grandpa-esque men soon turned into pushy, loud, aggressive purchasers of hundreds of tickets. Tempers flared as more people tried to queue jump, and the oldies were shouting at anyone that didn't fit the ticket queue criteria: "Senior citizen!"

Eventually, Jamie's no-nonsense queuing technique succeeded, and we got our tickets.

We'd read about a cool eatery called MTR (Mavalli Tiffin Rooms), which has been running since 1924, but accidentally ended up in the self-service diner instead of the actual restaurant. We'd ordered a thali, milkshake, and a fruit sundae (which was offered as a suitable alternative to water but turned out to be ice cream and had no water-like qualities at all).

As we tucked in, a chap on the table next to us struck up a conversation. He informed us that we weren't in the real restaurant, but halfway through our food, it was too late to change.

This guy told us very proudly about his shop and asked if we'd like to see it—it was just around the corner. We thought it sounded like a good plan and went to check out Bangalorean entrepreneurial action.

The guy led us to his shop, giving his full life story as we walked: about how he was alone in the world... his mum had died, his wife had an affair and ran off with his daughter. He told us how every day he went to the temple and sobbed about his wife until one day he snapped out of it and became a happy man. He told us of his plans to retire and travel India.

He proudly pointed at his shop—a concrete building with a big metal door, pulled half ajar. Jamie bounded in, and I lingered near the door, ready to make a quick exit if things got hectic.

Inside, a group of what looked like illegal immigrants sat on the floor, constructing plastic trikes and bikes. The guy imports from China, pays these guys to build, and sells them on for 300 rupees (£3), making a decent profit—meaning labour here must be super cheap.

We politely declined to see the upstairs and left, heading back towards MTR to grab a snack in the real restaurant. Lunch was a fixed price, and snacks weren’t available in the main MTR, so we decided to give it a miss. Across the road was the entrance to the Lalbagh Botanical Gardens.

We paid the 10-rupee entrance fee and enjoyed a lovely walk through the park—an instant, peaceful relief from the dusty, noisy streets of the city.

The evening's agenda was jam-packed with another attempt to get steak, but this time with wine. We stopped at Kosheys for a G&T and a pint (which wasn't a pint, much to Jamie's disappointment), then headed to an "English" pub called the Windsor, rumoured to serve great home comforts and fillet steak.

The Windsor didn't have wine, so we opted to move on and went to Millers 46 on the recommendation of some locals. Millers 46 was a cowboy-themed steakhouse, and they had wine. Success!

We shared a huge starter of chicken wings, tempura prawns, chips, and fried mushrooms before tucking into our juicy steaks. Having the wine really set it off, although last night's steak was winning in terms of taste.

Very full and a little boozy, we tried to find "Beach"—a bar with sand on the floor where it was ladies' night, and I'd be able to drink for free. After stopping to ask about four people, our driver told us it was closed, but the owner had opened a new bar called Island.

We headed straight there (accidentally via a closed laser quest venue) and overindulged in more cocktails.

In hindsight, this was a bad life decision on account of having to travel the following day.

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