My first time in Mumbai was nothing short of a rollercoaster ride, and let me tell you, I wasn’t ready for the twists and turns. From the moment I landed, everything felt different, the air thick with spices and excitement, the pace like a racing heartbeat, and the energy buzzing like a thousand caffeinated bees. It was my first real encounter with India, and this country was not shy about introducing itself with full force!
Our adventure began with a hiccup (because, of course, it wouldn’t be a proper trip without a little drama). My wife’s luggage was delayed, cue the collective gasp! I had a sinking feeling that I was about to spend a small fortune, but I also worried whether her bag would surface in time. No one wants to struggle with weight limits (or the lack thereof!). After some anxious waiting, pestering calls, threats and all, we finally exited the colossal Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj International Airport, which was an absolute maze of terminals and bustling staff. I felt like I was in an episode of “The Amazing Race,” only without the stylish outfits and prize money.
After booking an Uber to the hotel, our sanctuary from the chaos, we were relieved to discover that the Sofitel Hotel BKC in Bandra Kurla Complex was ready for us, and we were granted an early check-in at 9 AM. Talk about luck! It was like winning the lottery, just without the cash or the pressure of fame. We quickly freshened up and took to the internet to inform our loved ones about our safe arrival. Meanwhile, a friend I made online during our travel, @Vishal Mukadam, was tirelessly tracing our missing luggage on the airline’s support forums. He was our knight in shining armor, minus the armor and on a laptop instead of a horse. Damn! Bro has skills.
With our spirits lifted, we hit the lively streets of Mumbai. Now, being Ugandan, I thought these streets would feel familiar, like Kampala, where everyone knows what you want and is eager to help. Oh, how naïve I was! Life in Mumbai was a whole different ball game. Sure, the city is broadly multilingual, but one thing I quickly learned was that speaking Hindi was practically a superpower.
Language barrier? Oh yeah, we had that in spades. Most locals in Mumbai didn’t speak English, and the few who did seemed to have only mastered the essential phrases like “50 rupees” or “1000 rupees.” Even shop attendants, who I was convinced had encountered tourists before, looked at us as if we were trying to communicate with a pet goldfish.
Food in Mumbai
My wife, ever the practical one, suggested we start with food, a solid strategy, on par with “let’s not starve in a foreign land.” As we wandered, we had two things on our minds: finding some decent non-veg options and scoping out a fashion market. However, our quest for meat in Mumbai proved trickier than expected, given that most Indians lean vegetarian. I thought I could effortlessly spot a KFC or a Cafe Javas nearby, but I quickly realized that KFCs were as scarce as a unicorn in the city; only ten scattered across Mumbai, and Cafe Javas was like a rare Pokémon, hiding in plain sight.
We ambled down the street, keeping our eyes peeled for any sign of fried chicken. Eventually, we spotted a group of young men happily munching away in a small local eatery. Surely, these gentlemen would know where to find some delicious meat! We approached, only to be met with a baffled attendant who spoke no English. The boys had just enough language skills to navigate their way through life, but ordering food? That was a whole different mouse chase.
In my best attempt at communication, I asked the attendant if he accepted card payments. He nodded enthusiastically, flashing a smile that could end wars. But as we tried to finalize our meal order, the excitement hit a wall. It turned out the payment system was the Government UPI (Unified Payments Interface), which was as foreign to me as Martian culture. Without a local SIM card, I was left with my Visa ATM card and a whole lot of frustration.
Just when I thought all hope was lost, a miraculous scene unfolded before my eyes, a display of solidarity that would make even the most cynical person tear up. Five shop owners came together like an Avengers team to ensure I could pay the attendant. They didn’t act coercively; they just banded together in a way that warmed my heart.
Then, the cavalry arrived in the form of an English-speaking neighbor who swooped in to help me decipher the chaos. He recommended we find someone with a vending machine that could accept my card. Meanwhile, a kind motorcyclist, who knew only the basics of English but was a wizard on the road, guided me through the bustling streets, chattering away, trying to make sense of it all. I think he was either advising me or complaining about the weather, but honestly, I couldn’t tell.
As we zipped around Kurla west, we hit banks and kiosks, big and small, but none had a vending machine. One ATM accepted my card, but guess what? It wasn’t authorized for VISA. We were on a merry-go-round of misadventures, and I was beginning to feel like the star of a slapstick comedy.
Finally, after what felt like a quest worthy of a blockbuster film, we returned to the little eatery, where my wife was now bursting with knowledge about Indian spices (and a few rogue chili tears). “Call Vishal,” she suggested, and I thought, “Yes! The cavalry has arrived!”
When I mentioned Vishal’s name, the entire group erupted in discussion, as if I had summoned a secret code. Each person tried to explain what to do next in a mix of languages, which made for an entertaining scene. After a prolonged game of charades and gestures, I finally got them to hotspot me so I could WhatsApp call him. It felt like a scene out of a sitcom, with miscommunications galore and me playing the clueless protagonist.
After much back and forth, I handed them Vishal’s number, and they attempted to call him. There was a flurry of activity, and at that moment, I honestly thought I might just start drawing a crowd of amused onlookers. In an unexpected turn of events, we were suddenly released on faith bail (not cash bond)! With thumbs up and handshakes all around, we left the eatery, both relieved and exhausted.
Later, we discovered that Vishal had made the payment on our behalf, saving the day like a true champion! I know he prefers to remain anonymous, but this was a hero’s deed I couldn’t keep to myself.
Vishal later picked us from the Hotel and gave us the adventure we thought we could get on our own and failed. Went to the Market, went to the train, saw beautiful things, and had a good time.
@Vishal, you made Mumbai very memorable
So, here’s to Vishal, our unexpected savior in distress, the one who turned what could have been a culinary disaster into a tale of camaraderie and hilarity. Dhanyavaad bhaee!
More adventures await, and I can’t wait to share more in the blog section in the coming weeks.
