Hello Friends,
Every trip has a chapter that does not go to plan, and for my time in India, that chapter was Mumbai. It was where the whole adventure ended — a week in Mumbai spent waiting on a visa, dodging mask patrols, and walking a city that swings from ultra-poor to ultra-rich in the space of a single hill. This is that story.
If you want the full arc of how I got here — the workaway, the yoga studio, the family in Pune — start with A Yoga Workaway in India: My Month in Pune. This is the last leg of it.
Leaving Pune
I had actually landed in Mumbai once already, at the very start of the trip, straight in from Greece. But that first time I did not see a thing — I stepped off the plane, got in a taxi, and drove straight out to Pune. So this week at the end was really my only Mumbai.
Leaving Pune was hard. I said my goodbyes to Vikas and Shwetambari, the cab pulled up, and I climbed in. The drive back retraced the same road, past some of the same landmarks, and about halfway we pulled into a gas station for a rest and a coffee before getting back into it.
And then I got into it in a bigger way than I expected. My cab could not get down the street my hotel was on, so the driver stopped at the mouth of it, pointed, and told me to walk about halfway down. So there I was, in the middle of Mumbai, in a rough, packed slum area, hauling two backpacks and a ukulele down a street where I was very likely the only Western face for a long way in any direction.
The Windowless Room in Dongri
Home for the week was a place called Hotel Prime Residency, tucked into the Bhat Bazar area of Dongri, near Mandvi — one of the older, denser corners of South Mumbai. I will be honest: I normally refuse a room with no window. I do not like feeling boxed in. But between my budget and my timing, this was the affordable option in a central spot, so windowless it was. The one thing I was truly grateful for was that the AC worked, and worked well.
I do not remember the exact cost of the room, but I remember exactly what it felt like to step out the door each morning. You walk straight into it — the density, the smell, the dust, and the sheer number of people. Almost any hour of the day, you open that door and the street is full. There is no easing into Mumbai. It is just there, all at once.
A Visa, and a Broken Fax Machine
The whole reason I was in Mumbai was paperwork. My plan was to collect my visa from the Vietnamese embassy so I could finally get back to Vietnam, to my dog and the life I had set up there.
So I went in for my first appointment, ready to sort it out and be on my way. And they told me I would have to come back — because their fax machine was not working. Not their email. Not a phone line. A fax machine. Apparently the visa information had to arrive from Vietnam by fax, and until that machine was fixed, nothing could move. They figured it would be a day or two.
I stood there a little stunned. In the middle of a city of twenty-odd million people, my whole itinerary was now hanging on one broken fax machine and whoever was coming to repair it. But that was the situation, so there was nothing to do but wait it out. The fax did eventually come through. All told, I got into Mumbai around the end of March and flew out about a week later, at the start of April, landing back in Vietnam the next day.
Killing Time in the City
A week is a long time to wait, so I spent the days getting into the rhythm of the place. I would grab a cab or just walk — down to the iconic stone archway on the harbour, the Gateway of India, and along the seafront where the boats bob and the crowds gather. I walked the shoreline a lot. It was easily my favorite part of the city.
One day I went looking for the famous Thieves Market — Chor Bazaar — and never actually found it. I ended up deep in some genuinely questionable back alleys chasing it, which is its own kind of Mumbai experience. What I did find, over and over, were beautiful garden areas tucked into the chaos, little pockets of green and calm.
I also made it to the beach. I did not swim — the water looked a bit too dirty for me — but I stood there and watched locals wading in and playing in the surf, laughing, completely at home in it. There was something genuinely beautiful about that moment, watching people find joy in the exact same water I was hesitating over.
Masks, Hands, and Street Food
This was 2022, so COVID was still very much shaping daily life. In Mumbai, masks were required everywhere, and they meant it — there were people walking around actively looking for anyone without one. I found that out the hard way. I was downtown one day, mask off, when someone came over ready to write me a ticket. Lucky for me I had one stuffed in my back pocket. I pulled it out and told them I had only taken it off because I was having trouble breathing, and they let me off the hook.
The food was an experience of its own. A lot of places had you eating with your hands, and being in a poorer neighborhood, some of the spots were rough enough that I found myself constantly wanting to wash up afterward. It was interesting, and it was real — just not always comfortable.
The Two Mumbais
The thing that stuck with me most about Mumbai is how many worlds it holds at once. I would take a tuk-tuk or walk through an area that was deeply, visibly poor — and then turn a corner, go up a small rise, and suddenly be somewhere that looked genuinely wealthy. Ultra-poor to ultra-rich in the space of a block.
I do not have a tidy conclusion about that. It is just what Mumbai is: an enormous, dense community stretched across the whole spectrum of human circumstance, all of it packed in together, all of it somehow finding its place. You do not get to look away from it, and I do not think you should.
Going Home
When the fax finally came through and the visa was in my hands, the relief was real. I made my way to the airport and flew out, back toward Vietnam and the dog and the friends and the little life I had been missing the whole time.
If I am honest, part of me wishes I had stayed in India longer. If I had not been so pulled toward getting home, I would happily have kept walking those streets and shorelines for weeks more. But I have always had to be careful with money, and travel is something I have to plan around rather than just chase. This whole trip was not really on my financial docket to begin with — so cutting the Mumbai leg short and getting back was partly about saving money and getting my life moving again. That is the honest reason it ended when it did.
It is also exactly why I want to go back to India one day with an actual plan and a budget, instead of winging it on a workaway and the cheapest room I can find. There is so much more of this country I want to see, done properly.
My Honest Take on a Week in Mumbai
So would I tell you to go to Mumbai? Yes — with your eyes open. It is a densely packed city where extreme poverty and real wealth live right on top of each other, and it can be a challenging place to travel if you are not ready for it. Go in prepared for that, and — this is the important part — let go of whatever you think it is going to be.
Mumbai is not there to match your expectations. It is just there, in all its overwhelming, contradictory, alive-in-every-direction fullness, waiting for you to embrace it and accept it on its own terms. Do that, and it will give you a week you will never forget. Mine certainly was.
The Rest of the India Story
This was the final chapter of my spring in India. If you want to read the whole thing from the beginning, it all lives here:
- A Yoga Workaway in India: My Month in Pune — the full look back at the trip
- Travel Day From Greece to India — how the whole thing began
- Exploring Yoga in India — the practice at its source
Thanks for walking Mumbai with me. Cheers.
