Chaotic, Noisy, Colourful - Mumbai
Look, I'm not here to bore you with the mundane details of flights, airlines, and logistical facts that read like an instruction manual. This blog is about experiences—raw, unfiltered, and very much mine. So fair warning: you won't find meticulous timelines or itemised expenses here (though I promise a painfully detailed breakdown of every cent spent in my upcoming India review—literally every single rupee, including those wasted on tourist blunders).
But of course, here's my link to my Google Maps list where I've marked all the places we actually visited during our Mumbai adventure—the good, the bad, and everything in between! It's not a curated tourist guide, just an honest tracking of our entire journey. Follow along if you're curious about our exact route and stops: Michelle’s Google Maps India.
1. Our Arrival in India
Getting to Mumbai was surprisingly smooth—punctual flights, airport lounge access, and a taxi conveniently waiting at the airport. Granted, there was no chauffeur holding a sign with my name in elegant script, just some random guy staring at us while we stared back, neither side certain. His proof of identity? A photo of his brother on his phone. Seems legit, right? For context: Booking.com* occasionally throws in a free airport pickup. So when we landed, I had a text from an unknown Indian number claiming his brother would chauffeur us to our hotel. Booking.com* confirmed this arrangement, so despite the oddity, this appeared to be standard procedure. The man patiently waited through our passport control, visa checks, and baggage claim saga—impressive commitment.
At this point in my life, I've become alarmingly comfortable climbing into strangers' cars and hoping for the best. I shouldn't advertise this behaviour, but in the era of Uber and Grab, it's somehow normalised. At least Uber provides licence plate numbers, verification codes, GPS tracking, and an emergency button. This ride offered none of those safeguards—just a photo of some guy who another guy claimed was his brother. But hey, we made it to the hotel with all our belongings at 2 AM, so victory!
My most vivid memory from arrival was stepping off the plane and immediately telling Sam, "It smells like India". That indescribable aroma—impossible to compare to anything else—instantly transported me back nine years to when I first visited as a freshly graduated 18-year-old with zero world experience. And with those memories came the fear.
I'd been hesitant about returning to India. My health during that last trip hit rock bottom—not the migraines and depression I battle now, but fevers and the infamous traveller's digestive rebellion. The culprits? Relentless heat, nightly accommodation changes, uncomfortable transport (looking at you, sleeper train), unfamiliar food, foreign smells, and omnipresent dust. It overwhelmed my inexperienced traveller self. Even then, my sleep quality was abysmal, which made everything else harder to handle. Given my decade-long health struggles since, the last thing I needed was a "vacation" to a country that had previously stress-tested my body to failure. But I refused to surrender to fear. I needed to prove I wouldn't let health anxieties dictate my choices, unlike my regular life back home.
India 2016: When adventure travel meant clinging to top bunks in rickety sleeper trains, sweating through camel rides in the desert, and collapsing from sheer exhaustion at the Taj Mahal. My body still hasn’t forgiven me, but hey—at least I have the photos to prove I survived. Too bad, they're all blurry enough to make you wonder if I brought a potato instead of a camera. Apparently, 'focus' was as foreign a concept as safe street food to me...
I catch myself regularly back home working on those mental calculations: What if I stay out too late? I'll need hours to decompress before sleeping but should set my alarm for my normal time wake up time to not risk disrupting my sleep cycle (which otherwise will have seriously bad consequences for my health the next two weeks at least). But on the other hand, insufficient sleep practically guarantees a migraine—or at minimum, the 95% chance of day-long continuous nausea that's been my loyal companion for years. I never leave home without my pharmaceutical entourage—migraine medication, Vomex, ibuprofen, heartburn remedies, and my "basics". Even visiting my sister just two hours away requires strategic planning: how long can I safely drive alone? Where will I rest? What type of break will best recharge me? I live in constant fear of my body suddenly shutting down, preventing me from completing planned activities—something that happens frequently enough to keep that fear perpetually fresh. So naturally, the last scenario I want is being trapped on a 23-hour sleeper train—sans air conditioning, privacy, hygiene, proper food, or medical assistance—while battling a migraine in constant motion. But India was happening, and I came prepared with an arsenal of medications, crackers, and contingency plans. Life is challenging enough at home, but at least there I have my safe space and people like Sam who understand my needs during health crises. I've declined countless opportunities—festivals, road trips, pre-dawn mountain hikes—missing experiences that others take for granted. My body imposes frustrating limitations. But travelling to India? That wasn't going to be one of them!
Let's be honest: India isn't luxurious, even if you splurge on accommodation. The moment you step into "the real world," you're assaulted by heat, dust, aromas, cultural differences, traffic chaos, and humanity in all its unfiltered glory. If you've never experienced true Asia (not the Instagram-friendly, westernised version like Bali), you're missing out. It's possibly the most diametrically opposed environment to Germany or any Western country, including the US and Australia.
What I'm saying is: without a proper culture shock, you haven't truly discovered what this world offers and what humans can create. The sights, experiences, feelings, and internal dialogues will fundamentally change you. And I want to see it all—experience everything—even the uncomfortable parts. I've had both amazing and terrible experiences, but both are equally valuable in understanding myself, my desires, life's priorities, and the changes I want to make. The more authentic and traditional the experience, the closer to people's actual lives, the more I treasure it. (I mean cultural immersion like getting mehndi done, not questionable jungle rituals that endanger life and limb). We're the generation with unprecedented travel opportunities—and I believe we have a responsibility to venture beyond our borders to truly understand this world and its people. No geography textbook or National Geographic documentary can replicate the visceral feeling of stepping into a country like India.
2. Cultural Shock? - Mumbai
Okay, but maybe we're drifting a bit too far from travel and into my spiral of thoughts about the world. Let's get back to what the title promised you.
If you're flying to India, you'll probably have to choose between Mumbai and Delhi—at least if you're coming from Europe and mainly want to see the north of the country. Having now experienced both, I would 100% recommend Mumbai. Mumbai is by far the smoother transition into the craziness of Asia. It's crazy, but not as crazy. It's loud, but not as loud. It's dirty, but not as dirty. Not only that, but it definitely feels more modern—fewer tuk-tuks, more modern cars, more skyscrapers, traffic that (sort of) follows the rules, and no cows roaming the streets. Think of it as “India Lite”—still authentic, but with the intensity dial turned down just enough to catch your breath. I also think the beach and the ocean help—it gives the city this calming, endless feel. That area was surprisingly clean and not overly busy, as if the sea breeze carried away some urban chaos.
And now for the real reason: we weren't harassed as much.
In Delhi, the people who approached us were far less friendly and far more persistent. We were constantly being approached—on foot, from vehicles—people trying to get us to go with them, sell us something, or introduce us to their "cousin's shop with special prices just for you". People in Delhi did not take "no" for an answer. Not the first time, not the fifth time. Ignoring them didn't work, changing our route didn't work, even crossing the street didn't help—they'd just follow you across. I was constantly being touched—people asking for money, pulling on my arm. At one point, a kid even touched my boob, which I hope was accidental, but either way, it was uncomfortable and left me feeling violated in a place where I was already on high alert. And the kids... they're trained from such a young age to perform or beg for money, and for me, that's one of the hardest things in the world not to give in to. Some of them can barely walk, yet they already know the movement for "give me money for food, please”. Their tiny hands outstretched, eyes practiced in looking desperate. It breaks my heart every single time, leaving me with this impossible moral dilemma that no guidebook prepares you for.
But at the same time, so many people are constantly trying to scam you—telling you places are closed when they're not, that you're going the wrong way when you're not, that you need to pay to get in somewhere, or pay way more than necessary. "No, no, madam, Taj Mahal closed today for religious ceremony. But my brother has shop nearby with perfect view!" And there are so many of them at once that after a while, it gets hard not to believe them. It's also difficult to tell who genuinely just wants to get to know you and who is only pretending to be nice so they can sell you something or get you to go somewhere with them. Is this friendly chai invitation actually friendly, or am I about to get trapped in a carpet shop for three hours? To be fair, Delhi is the only place in India where we experienced this to such an extreme. If you start your trip there, you might get a completely wrong impression of the country and its people. I'm pretty sure that if we had done it the other way around, Sam would have turned right back around and left. Honestly, he wouldn't recommend anyone to go to Delhi. I wouldn't go that far, but I can say that Delhi has been, by far, my least favourite place in India—like being thrown into the deep end of a pool when you've barely learned to float.
Of course, Mumbai is still India. You'll still experience the culture shock, the chaos, people begging for money, people trying to convince you to take their taxi, the dirt, the heat. But it's all just a tiny bit less intense—like someone thoughtfully included a volume knob for your first Indian experience.
So, I'm not sure how I managed to talk about everything except Mumbai itself, but hey, you chose to read this instead of going to some average travel blogger with fewer health issues, worries, and existential thoughts. Consider it part of my charm—you came for Mumbai highlights and got a neurotic's guide to Indian city preferences instead.
3. Places to See
I'll try again to be more of a travel guide for you.
Mumbai is a good entry point to India, but it's by no means the nicest city.
3.1 Busy Gateway of India
As the name suggests, this is a large gate at the water's edge. If this is your first stop in India, it might seem impressive, but in reality, it doesn't look much different from the one in Delhi or other similar monuments. Think of it as India's warm-up act—impressive until you see the headliners later in your journey.
The area is packed with guides offering to take photos of you or trying to convince you to go on a boat ride to Elephanta Island. "Madam! Very good photo! Only 50 rupees!" or "Sir! Best boat, best price, leaving now!" We didn't end up going—not for any particular reason, just a lack of time and the fact that it wasn't a top priority for us. Plus, the persistent sales pitches were starting to feel like we were trapped in a human version of whack-a-mole. If you're interested in a boat tour, I'd recommend booking through GetYourGuide*—this way, you won't get overcharged, you won't have to haggle without knowing a fair price, and you'll have a clear meeting point instead of dealing with the chaotic crowds who all somehow know their cousin has the "very best boat, just for you".
By the way, if you want to travel safely when it comes to money, I also recommend using a Wise card (I’m not a partner with them, so not an affiliate link) because it offers great exchange rates, low fees, and lets you hold multiple currencies. It’s super convenient for withdrawing cash abroad and avoiding hidden bank charges. I only keep small amounts of money in there, and that’s the card I take with me. If it ever gets stolen, I lose it, or someone forces me to withdraw cash, there’s always just a small amount on it—so it’s not a big loss. I also call it my “throwaway card,” haha!
For me, the Gateway of India was simply too crowded. We couldn't even get a decent picture because the sun was way too strong—resulting in photos where we looked like squinting vampires about to burst into flames.
Gateway of India: Where tourists battle for the perfect selfie spot, slowly melting into human puddles under the relentless sun. Mumbai’s grand architectural triumph meets humanity’s sweaty defeat. Told you—neither Sam nor anyone else could conquer the glaring sun or the crowd for a flawless shot.
Security-wise, there are gates you have to pass through to enter the area, but the process is surprisingly fast. I'm not sure how thorough they actually check the bags in the x-ray. Most of the police officers were either on their phones or asleep—not that this was exclusive to Mumbai; we noticed the same in every city, except at airport security. Their dedication to napping could qualify as an Olympic sport. I'm pretty sure I witnessed what could only be described as professional-level dozing. And it doesn't seem to matter if you beep going through metal detectors—which begs the question: what have they put them up for? Window dressing? A very expensive door frame? Quite often I got an extra metal detector wipe by a female guard (those handheld devices—no idea what they're called) but all of them did it for less than a second and barely even pointed at my body. It could be interpreted as there was a fly in the way to see me that they gently wiped to the side. "Oh, pardon me, just removing this invisible speck between me and your potential contraband”. And for that I had to step on a step and spread arms and stuff?! The full “I surrender” pose for what amounted to essentially a magic wand being vaguely waved in my general direction. Security theatre at its finest—all the choreography with none of the actual checking!
Entrance to the area is free by the way.
We didn't stay long before wandering off and somehow ending up in a slum area. Classic tourist move: "Let's just explore a bit" translating directly to "Let's get completely lost in one of the most densely populated cities on earth".
3.2 Getting Lost in a Slum
This was actually the most interesting part of our time in Mumbai. We didn't plan to go there—we had simply been walking along a market, looking at different street food stalls, when we suddenly found ourselves surrounded by more and more housing. It can be hard to tell the difference between residential and business areas since, often, they are one and the same. The transition is about as clear as the instructions for assembling IKEA furniture. Sam and I got intrigued by some small alleyways, and before we knew it, we were deep in a maze of tiny streets. There was so much to see, so much happening all at once—it was overwhelming in the best way. At some point, we realised we had ended up in private residential areas, so we decided to leave, not wanting to disturb anyone. That's harder than it sounds, though, because many homes are literally just a hole in the wall leading to a single room that serves as their entire living space. There's no front yard with a “No Trespassing” sign to warn you—just suddenly you're practically in someone's living room, awkwardly smiling and backing away.
But here you go, a masterpiece taken by Sam! Love the colours, the focus, the story behind it and the life it portraits.
People were sitting inside and outside, watching life go by, taking care of their babies, stopping goats from eating vegetables off their stalls. Shrines and flower arrangements stood right next to massive piles of rubbish—some of them burning, filling the air with a horrible stench that somehow manages to cut through the already pungent cocktail of aromas. Then, just a few steps away, someone was making fresh naan in a tandoor, another was selling peeled cucumbers out of an old ice-cream bucket, and all the while, tuk-tuks and motorbikes honked their way through the chaos. The number of impressions hitting you all at once is impossible to describe—it's like all five senses decided to throw a party and invited everyone they know.
You have to watch where you step—not just to avoid tripping on uneven ground but also to make sure you don't step on one of the many street dogs sleeping in the shade of whatever object they can find. The whole scene was chaotic, colorful, and loud. The traffic was insane, yet the people seemed calm going about their daily business, completely unbothered. Some shops left us wondering how they even survived—for example, we saw one that sold nothing but golden boxes in different shapes. The business model seemed questionable at best. Many stalls sold the exact same things as the 25 other stalls next to them. Some shopkeepers were napping on the floor, while others walked around barefoot in the heat and dirt. And the street food vendors? Always busy. Always selling full meals for just 1–3 euros. The economics confused me—how does everyone make enough money when there's a samosa stand every three meters?
As you can tell, my writing is just as chaotic as I experienced Mumbai. But honestly, any other presentation would be a disservice to this beautifully messy city.
3.3 Chowpatty Beach (& Selfies)
There is a famous beach in Mumbai, Chowpatty Beach. It's relatively nice—lots of sand, surprisingly clean (except for the water, which I wouldn't go into unless you fancy growing an extra toe). Of course, there are some looky-looky men trying to sell ice cream or sitting mats, but they usually accept a "no" and don't bother you... at least until they finish their route and come back the other way. Round two of "No, thank you" anyone?
The golden sunlight reflects off the water as Mumbai's hazy skyline looms in the background, construction cranes signaling the city's continuous growth and development.
In the southern part, there are food stands and places to grab drinks. We watched the sunset behind the skyscrapers (yes, Mumbai has both slums and skyscrapers, though these towers aren't quite the luxury penthouses you might imagine—there's definitely a clear division in the city).
While waiting for Sam at the beach, I bought an ice cream from one of those looky-looky men and only realised afterward that it wasn't wrapped in anything—so that might have been a rather risky treat. Uppsss... living dangerously, one lick at a time! It was lovely seeing so many families, though, with little groups of men and women playing together and looking after their kids. Closer to the ocean, the constant Mumbai traffic soundtrack faded away, offering a brief respite from the urban chaos.
Occasionally, people would stop to ask for a selfie with us or ask where we were from and how we liked India. Being a foreigner here means occasionally feeling like an accidental celebrity—"Excuse me, photo please?" becomes your new catchphrase. And as soon as you take one, there's a queue building up faster than the line for the latest iPhone release. Somehow, groups aren't happy with just a group photo, as they all want an individual one with us. The real VIP treatment, whether you asked for it or not! We met a group of cricket players, I would say about 15 men, and after the obligatory group pose, we took one with all of them individually. Some even requested second shots because they wanted the same pose someone else had just done, such as sunglasses on or off. "Your sunglasses pose looked cooler than mine—I need a retake!" It is fun, but I got cramps in my cheeks from smiling. I'm pretty sure my smile muscles developed a six-pack by the end of the day.
This image captures a moment of cultural exchange and genuine warmth, reflecting India’s deep-rooted tradition of hospitality toward travellers. Despite historical reasons for division, these young athletes welcomed us with open hearts and enthusiasm, reminding us that kindness and connection can transcend borders, history, and expectations.
It's clearly the whole different treatment foreigners get entering my country. While I get people coming up to me having lovely conversations and interest about where we are from, what we do, what we like about India, people entering Germany often get racist comments (especially if they look different as in white and dark skin) and aren't welcome. When was the last time you went up to a stranger by the way and just said hi? The thought probably makes most Germans uncomfortable—small talk with strangers? Absolutely not! Also, Sam is British. So his country used India for centuries as a resource and did not treat people well. And still, all people welcome us. Not a single bad word. I wish Germany would be as welcoming and friendly. There's something humbling about experiencing such generous hospitality from a nation that has historical reasons to be resentful. It makes you wonder about the nature of cultural memory and forgiveness. In Mumbai, I'm greeted with curiosity and kindness, while back home, we often meet others with suspicion and distance. Perhaps this is the most valuable souvenir I could bring back—not trinkets or photos, but this lesson in genuine welcome and human connection. The contrast is stark and uncomfortable, but it's exactly these kinds of realisations that make travel so transformative. It holds up a mirror not just to the places we visit, but to our own societies and ourselves.
4. Activities
4.1 Dabbawalas, Dharavi & Dhobi Ghat Tour
For our deep dive into Mumbai's unique culture, we signed up on GetyourGuide* for a walking tour that promised three fascinating experiences: witnessing the famous Dabbawala lunch delivery system, exploring Dharavi (often called the most famous slum in the world), and visiting Mumbai's impressive open-air laundry.
The Dabbawala system is quintessentially Mumbai—a perfect blend of tradition, practicality, and organised chaos. "Dabbawala" translates quite literally to "box carrier" (Dabba = lunch box, Wala = person who carries). This remarkable system emerged decades ago when Mumbai's office culture was growing. As more people began working away from home, the need for a reliable lunch solution became apparent.
Legend has it that one enterprising individual started collecting home-cooked meals from a handful of households—prepared lovingly by wives and mothers—and delivering them to hungry office workers. The idea caught on like wildfire, evolving into the complex network we see today. Those original metal tiffin containers (Dabbas) are still used by many, though nowadays you'll also spot modern lunch boxes tucked into the Dabbawala's backpacks as they navigate the city's crowded streets.
Mumbai's iconic Dabbawalas at work, sorting through numerous tiffin boxes along a sidewalk fence at the train station. Dressed in traditional white uniforms and caps.
The Dabbawalas collect the lunch boxes and bring them to the train station (linked the one we went to, but there are multiple of course), where the boxes are placed in specific areas based on their destinations. Another group of Dabbawalas then picks them up and takes them on a train ride. After the train ride, the same process repeats: another set of Dabbawalas collects the boxes and delivers them to the correct offices. After lunchtime, the boxes are returned home the same way they arrived. This ensures that office workers always have a cheap and hot meal made at home for their lunch break. Imagine a lunch delivery service with the precision of a Swiss watch but the organisational complexity of a military operation—all without a single app or GPS! The entire system operates without modern digital tools, relying instead on handwritten codes and a colour system. Apparently, the Dabbawalas always deliver on time and have never mixed up an order. The error rate is supposedly 1 in 16 million. For comparison, that's roughly the odds of you being struck by lightning while simultaneously winning the lottery—twice. The service is not only affordable for a wide range of people, but the boxes are reused, and the system produces almost no waste—unlike well-known fast food chains. As far as I know, this system exists only in Mumbai, not in other parts of India. Since COVID, the number of Dabbawalas has significantly declined. Our guide mentioned that the younger generation prefers fast food like McDonald's or eating at malls and food courts. So, in ten years, the system may have disappeared completely—another victim of progress and the global conquest of the Big Mac.
After the train station visit, we took a train ride to probably the most famous slum in the world—Dharavi. It gained global recognition due to its size, density, and economic activity, as well as its depiction in movies like Slumdog Millionaire. But honestly, it was quite different from what I expected.
Inside Mumbai’s packed local train, we found ourselves just as guilty of documenting daily life as the locals who eagerly request selfies with us. Two young men caught Sam in the act, their smiles warm and amused rather than annoyed—a perfect reminder that curiosity runs both ways. In the end, we’re not so different: they collect memories with us, while we capture fleeting moments of their commute. Each of us, in our own way, is drawn to glimpses of lives unlike our own.
What do you picture when you think of a huge slum? Poverty? Dirt? Sadness? Sickness? Crime?
Though often associated with poverty, Dharavi is a place of entrepreneurship, creativity, and strong community ties. Despite poor living conditions, Dharavi has thousands of small-scale industries, including pottery, leather goods, textiles, and recycling. Its annual economy is estimated to be worth hundreds of millions of dollars. And, according to our guide, people are not sad in the slightest. Apparently, Hollywood's portrayal of slums as places exclusively filled with despair and tragedy missed the memo on human resilience. Most homes are one-room dwellings made of brick, tin sheets, or recycled materials. When walking past, you can regularly see inside (as we already experienced earlier when we accidentally walked into a slum). Despite the harsh conditions, many residents own their homes. Shared toilets serve hundreds of people, leading to sanitation challenges, and the narrow alleys and poor drainage make the area vulnerable to diseases. But, to be fair, from my personal experience, the rest of the country does not seem significantly cleaner or more advanced. Unfortunately, I cannot tell you much more about it or share many photos. Firstly, we weren't allowed to take pictures of the men working or any people, and of course, not of anyone's private homes. But then… I got sick and had to end the tour—or at least decided to.
Walking through the narrow alleys of a Mumbai slum on the way to a soap workplace, passing a business recycling car parts. Amidst the stacked bumpers and plastic scraps, life and industry intertwine in a space where every material finds a second use. Also the only snap we took on the tour before I got sick.
It was midday; I had eaten breakfast, and before entering the slum, we stopped at a café where I had another big drink. It probably wasn't enough food because I started feeling slightly nauseous (but not like stupidly minimal food and drink intake!). Then, when we walked into the slum, we entered a hidden garage where men were making soap. It was dark and dirty, but mainly, the air was extremely smelly, and it was unbearably hot. That day, my period started, and I got bad cramps that spread to my back and stomach (or maybe something else was wrong in addition). When I have my period, standing still for long periods is extremely difficult for me. Walking is usually fine, and so is sitting, but standing for 10 minutes or longer makes me feel dizzy. It's like my body has a timer: "10 minutes of standing? Initiating emergency shutdown sequence!". Of course, there was nowhere to sit, so I just sat on the very dirty floor, hoping it would get better—but it didn't. I was at a crossroads: do I do what I always do and push through because I paid for the tour (even if it wasn't expensive), because Sam was with me, and because I didn't want to miss out? Or do I listen to my body and stop? Surprisingly, I stopped. I didn't want to fight through the pain. Even though our guide noticed and tried to get me some food and water, I said I needed a break and that the group should continue without me—or in this case, without the two of us.
I felt terrible, mainly because Sam had to stop the tour, and I knew he was very interested in it. I also hated the thought that we spent money and had to stop because of my health (again…). But do you know what the worst part was? After about 20 minutes of sitting in the shade, eating some bread, and drinking water, I felt better. I started walking and no longer felt the need to go home. I wasn't feeling great, but I was good enough to continue the tour. But by then, it was too late. The tour, of course, didn't wait that long. Sam insisted we go home instead of wandering around on our own, which I was sad about… In the end, it was good to relax in a room with air conditioning and a bed, have some cold drinks, and be alone though. I really wanted to go back to the slum the following day, but Sam said he didn't think it would be much different from what we had already seen. So we didn't. It took me a while to accept that and let go of the feeling of having missed out, but looking back, I'm fine with it.
What we attempted again though, was visit Mumbai's Dhobi Ghat—the world's largest open-air laundry. Hundreds of dhobis (washermen) wash clothes from homes, hotels, hospitals, and businesses across the city. The laundry consists of over 700 washing platforms, each with a concrete wash pen (ghat) and flogging stone. Dhobis manually scrub and beat clothes on stones to remove dirt. Clothes are hung on vast lines or spread out on rooftops, then neatly pressed and packed for return delivery. Imagine the world's largest, most chaotic laundromat, minus the walls, roof, and machines.
Dhobi Ghat, Mumbai’s iconic open-air laundry, where thousands of clothes are washed, dried, and pressed daily. Against the backdrop of modern skyscrapers, this centuries-old tradition continues, highlighting the city’s contrasts between old and new.
You can see the laundry from a high-up viewpoint, but I really wanted to go inside. There are multiple gates, with men in front offering to take you in for some money. So we went with one of them. I'm pretty sure he was just a random guy who knew his way around and spoke five sentences in English to explain what was happening. It wasn't official, but for about five euros total, it was absolutely worth it. Unofficial tour guide: the budget traveller's best friend or worst nightmare—there's rarely an in-between. I can't even put into words what it was like—like a maze of pools and clothing. The ironing stations were particularly fascinating. I was supposed to iron something, but clearly, I did it wrong because I got told off by someone. Or maybe it was someone's personal laundry, and our “guide” just told me to iron his stuff when I wasn't supposed to touch it—who knows, haha. "Here, tourist! Iron this shirt while I take a coffee break" is probably a sentence used more often than you'd think. It felt a bit odd walking around inside because people were getting undressed to go into the water, and some were sleeping. It felt like we were walking into their private spaces. Many dhobis live in small homes or shelters within Dhobi Ghat, and their children are typically seen playing or helping with light work (which I didn't see this time but have in other places). We also climbed up a ladder to where most of the washing is hung. Standing between all that colourful clothing was an interesting experience, but it was a bit scary because the structure didn't feel very stable. Nothing like the wobble of questionable infrastructure to get your heart racing on vacation!
Inside the heart of Dhobi Ghat, where work and life blend seamlessly. Sunlight pierces through gaps in the roof, illuminating a space filled with fabrics, steam, and quiet moments of rest between the relentless rhythm of laundry work.
Since we had used the train earlier with a guide (train station laundry: Mahalakshmi), we felt confident enough to ride it on our own to get back to the hotel after the tour. It was actually pretty easy! The ticket offices were straightforward—we just showed the attendant our destination on Google Maps and communicated the number of tickets we needed. As in many places in India, it's best to have cash on hand. Foreign credit cards don't work everywhere (though they do in some places). Short train rides cost less than a euro per ticket. The trains don't have doors, so you can lean out (though, of course, I can't recommend it because it's extremely dangerous—as all fun things are).
POV: You book a “window seat” but forget to check the fine print. Maybe it’s not as easy to get a ticket after all.
4.2 Weird and Wonderful Massage
One of my goals for this world trip was to find or take enough time to work on my health. My 24/7 companion? Muscular pain—one of the only issues I struggle to improve. I'm trying to learn how to relax my muscles, which seem perpetually tense and now scream in protest. My neck and back hurt the most, probably because I work a lot on my laptop and often sit in positions that would make physiotherapists weep. The rest of my muscles are likely tense because I move constantly at night, and stress probably contributes as well. My arms, legs, stomach, ribs—even my cheeks—hurt. Basically, every muscle you can think of. They don't hurt just existing (the best way I can describe it), but as soon as you touch them—hello, pain!
I've tried chiropractors and physiotherapy and seen very minor, short-term improvements. But as you know, those appointments are not cheap at all, they're harder to book than a celebrity restaurant, usually very short, and typically focus on just one body part. Then, two weeks later, the magic is gone, and you're on your own again.
So what I'm trying now—based on many suggestions—is muscle relaxation exercises according to Jacobson's method, where you tense your muscles and then intentionally let go, feeling the relaxation. Ideally, with lots of practice, you can skip the tensing part and just relax. But, and I know this is stupid, I don't do it often enough. You're supposed to do it at least every day for several weeks to see progress, but it's like stretching—I get into the habit for a week, then I don't have time, no motivation, or I just can't relax, and then it slowly fades until the pain gets really bad again or someone guilt-trips me by asking, "Have you been doing it regularly?". (Cue shame spiral).
So I thought—since I'm in a cheap country now—I want to treat myself to massages. Looking back, though, massages in India weren't as cheap as I had hoped. I paid 30 euros for 60 minutes (still far cheaper than back home, but not something I can afford every other day unless I start selling those beach mats myself). But massages don't relax me—no, most of the time, I want to scream. It is honestly extremely painful, but I'm glad someone is pushing and massaging all my muscles and hitting some very painful trigger points. I guess my goal would be to reach a point where a massage relieves tension and relaxes me, rather than making me fantasise about escape plans. But I'm more likely to get a massage regularly than to work out or meditate. Am I taking the easy way? Yes. But it is definitely progress, and it's different from what I was doing before to manage the pain (which was mostly complaining about it).
Hopefully, I can stick with both—massages and my exercises—while also working on my sleep and stress. Then, in 10 years, maybe it will eventually be better! If you want to support me, please just text me on Instagram and ask if I've done my exercises today! It would be appreciated. Guilt-tripping works just as well as doing it willingly—the power of external accountability, hahaha.
Back to the actual massage in Mumbai:
I honestly don't understand how this place has such a good rating (Vaani Spa in Colaba—listed in my Google Maps list, but please read this review first). Yes, they replied instantly to my WhatsApp messages, and I could make an appointment the same day. But the place seemed dodgier than a back-alley dice game.
Because nothing says “relaxation” like walking through an entrance that looks like the final level of a horror game.
I couldn't find the entrance because the Google Maps pin was at a different location. No one outside could tell me where the massage place was, and there was no sign. (See the photo of the entrance—it just seemed a bit dodgy to me). The place looked like it had aged badly and needed urgent renovation. It just didn't feel clean, and neither the massage table nor the towels felt soothing (see photos—sorry, they're blurry because I took them after the massage, possibly while still in recovery mode). I didn't feel comfortable there.
I had to get undressed and then waited until, at some point, someone just walked in without knocking. My masseuse did an okay job, but I just didn't feel comfortable during the process. She asked if the pressure was okay, though, and afterwards, they let me take a shower in the room, which I liked.
Outside, there was constant conversation and people coming in and out—it felt more like a kitchen with people picking up food, not a relaxing atmosphere. My masseuse also left the room randomly a few times during the massage, and I had no idea why. Perhaps she was checking on her sourdough starter?
I just went to a different place yesterday, and for the same price, I had a far better experience: a better massage, a nicer and cleaner interior, a more relaxing atmosphere, and more communicative and caring staff. It's also about the little things for me, like covering body parts that aren't being massaged so you don't feel fully exposed—which they didn't do, but other places clearly do. It wasn't horrible, but I wouldn't go back here. There are better places with a better experience for the same price.
Also, have I mentioned that my brain goes into full working mode when I get a massage? That's also why I hate going for walks, sitting around doing nothing, or being a passenger in a car without conversation—or the worst, trying to fall asleep. My mind just runs in circles: planning work, holidays, thinking about how I'll describe the massage to my husband, and a hundred million other things. It's annoying. And when I try to relax and focus on what I'm feeling or hearing, I end up describing it to myself as if I were telling someone else about it. Then I start wondering which parts I should tell my psychologist because it's clearly a problem I need to work on.
If I remember correctly, though, she told me my mind will probably never be empty—that's just how my brain is. I just need to make sure it doesn't bother me. As in, it can exist, but it should be fine—which it clearly isn't right now. So yeah, massages aren't as fun for me as you might think. Less "ahhh" and more "arghh!"
4.3 Cultural Experience: Haircut
Firstly, I'm Swabian, and I prefer paying less for the same service—or in this case, paying less for a better service just because I'm getting it in a foreign country. (If you're not familiar with Swabians, we're known for being, let's say, economically efficient. Some might call it cheap; we call it smart). Also, I need to learn to do more things by myself, even if they scare me, because I need to realise that getting a haircut is not the same as a final exam at university, although both involve sharp objects and the potential for public humiliation.
I'm not actually afraid that they'll ruin my hair or anything—I just hate being in an unknown situation, not knowing what will happen. Walking through the salon door is the hardest part, even though I made sure it's definitely the right salon. No accidental tattoo parlour scenarios for me, haha.
But it's also one of my favourite cultural experiences—doing everyday things I would do at home and seeing how they're done in another country. And this one was certainly a great experience. A lovely, clean, and well-equipped place with very friendly staff. I was able to book an appointment the same day (at KUTS & KOLOR Luxury Unisex Salon)!
And THIS is what I was afraid of? Wow. 🤦♀️
I had a hair wash, a small hair spa, a haircut, and a head/neck massage for 30 euros. The service was great, my hair looked nice and felt super soft afterwards. They even had a foot massage machine and offered drinks! Luxury at budget prices—my Swabian heart was singing.
Only downside: you can only pay in cash or via Google QR code, and there was no nearby ATM that worked with foreign credit cards. A small adventure in itself trying to find working cash machines in Mumbai!
KUTS & KOLOR Luxury Unisex Salon is linked in my Google Maps list for India. Highly recommended for fellow travellers looking to tame their travel-worn locks!
I asked ChatGPT how it likes my new hair: “It looks fantastic! Fresh, bouncy, and full of life—definitely worth it. Do you feel as good as you look? 😊”. I mean, if that isn’t a compliment haha.
5. Hotel Review
Hotel Enigma Inn* Review: Would not stay here again. Nice staff, but place is dirty, broken, small and not practical!
What I Liked:
Staff was very friendly and helpful
They let us check in, in the middle of the night (lifesavers!)
Quick communication on both the app chat and WhatsApp
Location good for sightseeing and close to train station and restaurants (though I think it doesn't really matter where in Mumbai you stay. Every sight is a bit away from the others, but walking or driving between them is like a sightseeing tour in itself and very interesting)
We had a window! (Yes, apparently this is worth mentioning)
Internet was not great but okay—wouldn't say it's good enough to work remotely, but the Wi-Fi was just enough to get by
What I Didn't Like:
Room was far too small for two people—you couldn't move without performing interpretive dance, no space for suitcases, and I hate it when one side of the bed is against the wall, so one person struggles to get in and out (midnight bathroom trips become tactical missions)
No chair, desk, or lobby area, so not appropriate for anyone trying to work in the hotel (e.g., on a laptop, like, you know, us)
It was not clean and quite run down—think “rustic charm” minus the charm
Not enough plugs, especially near the bed (the eternal traveller's struggle)
It is very loud day and night—not just because of the normal Mumbai traffic but also pigeons nesting right next to it (and I mean it seriously, they were very loud especially at night, holding what seemed like pigeon parliamentary debates)
Would not stay here again unfortunately
Breakfast was not included and there was no breakfast offered. But somehow, because our room wasn't ready on time, as an apology they offered us breakfast. So every morning they would bring a different little snack and coffee to our room. The first day, I wanted something sweet, so they brought newspaper-wrapped burger bun-like buns with butter and jam. Definitely not a lot of food and not the highest quality, but better than nothing, especially because they normally don't offer anything for any guest.
A different type of breakfast in bed.
The elevator was definitely an experience—one see-through gate at every level and one part of the elevator also just see-through bars. For it to work, you close both behind you, but the fun part is as soon as it gets the connection, it moves. So it feels like it hasn't closed yet and is already moving, and it feels like there is no door as you can see every level and what's between. Equal parts terrifying and thrilling—Mumbai's very own budget theme park ride!
By the way, we booked all our accommodation through booking.com*. And even though this wasn’t a great hotel, I still 100% recommend booking via their website! If something goes wrong and you actually need help, they respond very quickly and try to assist. Also, previous guests gave this place good reviews—maybe our standards are just different. Not many foreign tourists travel to India in general, and probably even fewer stay in places like this rather than well-known chains—but that’s just my impression, not a scientific fact. The listing also clearly stated that breakfast wasn’t included. And as I mentioned in the very first paragraph, the free airport taxi that was included was amazing! If you book through my link, I do get a small commission, but I’ve personally used booking.com for over 10 years, so this is a genuine recommendation (aside from this specific hotel*, of course!).
6. Vegetarian-Friendly Food
Finding vegetarian-friendly food? The easiest thing in the world. I don't know any other country (at least among the almost 50 I've been to) where it is so easy. There is food everywhere; the question is just, is it clean enough for us tourists to eat? Besides hundreds of street food vendors, you have plenty of nice-looking and very well-rated restaurants. Of course, you pay more, but the food is amazing and still not extremely expensive.
Live footage of me ‘sharing’ the bread basket. (Narrator: She did not share).
There are so many veggie options for starters, mains, desserts, and drinks. It's unbelievable. And challenging because I actually have options that I need to choose from and basically have no idea what most of the words mean. Finding non-spicy food was the only problem—that was very hard to find, but the easiest way is just to ask if they have something on the menu or if they can make you something not as spicy as normal. And oh my goodness, Sam and I had naan bread with every meal and also far too many lassis. We treated ourselves very well. We often skipped full meals for lunch or dinner and bought supermarket snacks and meals such as pasta-pots (Maggi seems very popular here). This is also because during the week, Sam and I are working on our laptops, and we don't always have time to go somewhere together and have a sit-down meal.
Presentation: 2/10. Satisfaction: 11/10.
I don't think I can really make a recommendation for a specific restaurant. All had similar options, all tasted great, all looked normally like the pictures, or at least the rating was accurate. They all are similar in price. We just looked for a nice place whenever we were hungry and then chose something in the area we were in—a culinary adventure of convenience! I linked them all (if I did not forget) in my Google Maps list for India though.
I don't think Sam did, but I had a lot of street food. Some freshly made lemonade, some freshly baked bread right from the oven, vegetarian grilled sandwiches, bananas, the “open-air” ice-cream at the beach and similar treats. I also ended up eating with my hands a few times like the locals do—and I mean curry with rice, hot curry and non-sticky rice (a skill I have yet to master gracefully). But I also have to add, I vomited twice. I don't know if it was food or drinks, if it was hygiene, or maybe I got it from Sam, who was sick first. I washed my hands with soap as often as possible, used disinfectant before any meal, we did not drink tap water or even brush our teeth with it. Likewise, I also did not eat food from stands that seemed questionable to me (as in not super clean or basic or had flies hovering like tiny food critics). Technically, you're not even meant to eat raw vegetables to be super safe. But I think I tried everything I could without missing out on anything. Why I got sick in the end—I don't know. And Sam clearly did not eat street food, has a very strong stomach, and used spoons and forks with all his meals and still got sick. So I am not sure what else we could have done to prevent it. The Mumbai Tummy Mystery remains unsolved.
I thought this was just exhaustion…
To be fair, I am pretty sure Sam had Hepatitis A. I am of course not a doctor but a mystery solving champion (self-announced and actually thinking far from that). But I mainly want to mention – please, before you travel, make sure you consult a doctor about health risks, potentially useful (and of course mandatory) vaccinations and inform yourself on government pages what you need to know and do before entering the country (e.g. for Germany via: the Auswärtiges Amt or for the UK: GOV.UK or the NHS. You can get very sick, and it can get very serious very quickly! I luckily never had anything life-threatening but better be precautious. Also, reminder here, have a good travel health insurance for example via your credit card (like we do) or for example Allianz (unfortunately now partnership…). This isn't just another expense to skip – it's absolutely essential when travelling, especially in regions where health standards might differ from what you're used to. The days of "I'll just wing it" and "It won't happen to me" should be left behind with your other bad travel habits (like overpacking or forgetting sunscreen). A little preparation before your journey can save you from turning your adventure into a medical misadventure!
If you're sick and longing for comfort from home while travelling, my newest partner Surfshark VPN* has you covered! Stream your favourite Netflix shows or hometown TV programs from anywhere in Mumbai (or beyond). Welcome Surfshark* to the Pirisi's Passport travel family – keeping you connected to familiar comforts even when you're thousands of miles away!
7. End Note
I still do not realise that I am in India. I sometimes just stare at the blue location point in Google Maps, and I'm like, "Okay, this is actually me in this piece of land that I know of from the globe". It just feels so unreal. Especially if I worked a full day on my laptop and then step out the door of the hotel, I am like I just felt at home, and now I am like on a movie set. Like I went through some portal into a different world—from Excel spreadsheets to sensory overload in one doorway.
For more immersive glimpses into Mumbai's vibrant streets, hidden gems, and daily rhythms, follow my visual journey on Instagram @PirisisPassport. There you'll find exclusive photos and authentic video moments that capture the true essence of this magnificent city beyond what words can describe.
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