Visitor Information -- Technically, there are tourist information desks at both airports, and these should be open for all flight arrivals. Don't count on it, however, and don't expect a lot of help, other than being handed a brochure or booklet and given some bland details of available hotels. That said, an excellent source of visitor information is the comprehensive City Info booklet, published fortnightly (every 2 weeks) and available at tourist information offices as well as upmarket hotels and even certain pubs and restaurants. For the best listings of the city's current events and what's hip and happening, look no further than the fortnightly magazine Time Out, available at all newsstands. The main Government of India Tourist Office (123 Maharishi Karve Rd., Churchgate; tel. 022/2207-4333 or -4334; Mon-Fri 8:30am-6pm, Sat 8:30am-2pm) is where to head for general tourist-related information, but if you're staying at one of the city's better hotels, your concierge will be a good source of information on sightseeing, performances, events, and activities.
When To Go -- Mumbai's humidity -- even in the small hours of the morning -- is felt instantly, and the sun shines year-round, except in the monsoon months. You always seem drenched in warm sweat, and the heat can be terribly cruel, making sightseeing far less agreeable than a tour of the city's wonderful restaurants and drinking holes. Winter (Nov-Feb) is still hot, although not so entirely unpleasant; the sultry sea air sets the tone for an adventure in exotic dining and an intoxicating jaunt through lively, Victorian-era streets that are constantly crammed with people. The only real relief from the heat comes for brief periods in December and January, and midyear, when the annual monsoon drenches the city with heavy, nonstop tropical rains.
Dealing with Beggars -- When long-time BBC India Bureau Chief Mark Tully was asked: "How do you cope with the poverty of India?" he responded, "I don't have to; they do." As a first-time visitor, you will no doubt be struck first and foremost by the seemingly endless ordeal of the impoverished masses. Families of beggars will twist and weave their way around the cars at traffic lights, hopping and even crawling to your window with displays of open wounds, diseased sores, crushed limbs, and starving babies, their hollow eyes imploring you for a few life-saving rupees. Locals will tell you that these poverty performances are Mafia-style rackets, with protection money going to gangs, and sickly babies being passed around to gain more sympathy for their "parents." In the worst of these tales of horror, children are maimed to up the ante by making them appear more pathetic. The choice is stark: Either lower the window and risk having a sea of unwelcome faces descend on you, or stare ahead and ignore them. To salve your conscience, tip generously those who have made it onto the first rung of employment.
