A Bumpy Mumbai Arrival: My Indian Travel Angel

I’m a generally risk-averse traveler. I dot my i’s and cross my t’s when it comes to research and planning. I download offline maps. I have cash on hand for the worst-case scenario (an impromptu bribe to get me out of trouble). I put my phone in my pocket when walking even in the safest cities. I avoid telling too many details about who I am, what I’m doing, or where I’m staying to anyone. I am annoyingly safe to many of my companions, and I know it. Is it what some people would call boring? Sure. Is it what’s kept me safe in nearly 70 countries? Absolutely. And yet, despite all my careful planning, I still had a bumpy Mumbai arrival.

When I arrived in Mumbai, India in the dead of night on September 18, 2019, I was just looking for a bed. I had flown from Beijing to Sri Lanka for a 17-hour layover turned day trip before continuing on to Mumbai. I was absolutely exhausted, going on 48 hours without sleep, and all I wanted was a comfortable place to crash.

This sleeplessness ultimately showed when I waltzed up to the nearly empty immigration line around 1 or 2 AM and was asked to list the last 3 countries I had been in. I briefly drew a blank. I stared at the page as the immigration officer waited.

1. Sri Lanka
2. China
3. ???

Which country had I been to before China? How could I not remember this?

I began frantically clicking through my phone to jog my memory. Oh wait, it was Myanmar, right? Right? Oh yes, that was right.

What's a girl gotta do for some cash?

Once through immigration, I hit customs and attempted to find an ATM. I was in desperate need of USD, having just used the last of my cash in Sri Lanka to pay a local tour guide.

Unfortunately, it turns out that I couldn’t even get rupees. I struck out at not one but two different ATMs before giving up for the night. This wasn’t the first time I had issues getting cash in the middle of the night at an airport (thanks Seoul!). I knew that the error messages had nothing to do with my card and everything to do with the airport ATM. I didn’t like it. I hated walking away with no cash because so many places rely on cash abroad, but it didn’t look like there were any other options available. My bumpy Mumbai arrival was continuing...

I was also drained and planning to Uber using my credit card anyway. I had known all along that was the plan thanks to the research I had done ahead of arriving in Mumbai. Cash could wait for the night, right? I didn’t like it. I hated walking away with no cash because so many places rely on cash abroad, but it didn’t look like there were any other options available.

I decided I would get some first thing tomorrow, and I followed the airport signs for the rideshare services. Out of the airport, into a garage, around a bend. My God…let this end. This is miserable. Am I even going the right way?

Ten minutes later, I was in my Uber and on my way to the hostel. I had told them I would be getting in late and sent them my flight information. I silently prayed this would be as seamless as possible.

Confidently lost

I don’t remember most of the ride. It was probably between 10 to 15 minutes from the airport, and it was late enough that my Uber driver, Aftar, (thankfully) didn’t feel the need to make small talk with me. Yet, as we approached the main street, he turned to me and said something along the lines of, “Is it here?”

Here’s the other thing about me…I never want to seem like I don’t know what I’m doing while traveling. I’d rather be fiercely confident in situations where I have no idea what’s going on and figure it out privately than let a stranger know (in this case in the dead of night) that I have no clue where I am or where I’m supposed to go. Most of the time, this works out rather well. It may take me a second, but fewer people have the opportunity to mislead me or tell me something that isn’t true. And sure, this isn’t necessarily believing the best in everyone, but I have the opportunity to protect myself and whomever I’m with first.

So, of course, as soon as I heard this, even though I have absolutely no idea where I am or where I’m going, I get out of the Uber confidently. I tell Aftar thank you and proceed to look around at this street. I intended to just follow my little dot to the Google Maps location. After all, it had worked plenty of times before.

Yet, as I’m looking, the hostel is nowhere to be found. In fact, it doesn’t even look like an area of town where a hostel would be. There are dozens of jewelry stores, and the Google Maps location is showing the hostel down this alley full of rats. (No exaggeration. I would put the number of rats that scattered when I shone my flashlight at a minimum of 50 to 100.)

Even worse was that there was nowhere else open to go ask, stand, or figure it out privately. The area was as good as a ghost town, which meant – if I couldn’t find it – I was stuck in the middle of Mumbai without a place to stay.

Well…cue the panic. It was 3 AM, and I was in a rat-filled alleyway with little cell service in a city I didn’t know. Trying to stay calm, I quickly found the hostel phone number in the information I had saved, and I rang them…nothing. A slew of swear words was now coursing their way through my head. No particular order but absolutely on repeat.

A travel angel named Aftar

As my heart pounded, I looked back towards the main road. Aftar was still there. He was watching me, and he knew something was wrong. Blissfully glad that I wasn’t alone at this moment, I went back and asked if he could help. Unlike me, he didn’t attempt to hide the fact that he had absolutely no idea where the hostel was, but he certainly wasn’t afraid to ask for help.

It took him no time at all to pull over a passing bike of two additional men – the only two people we saw during this entire interaction. They began conversing in their native tongue, and I was left wondering what on Earth was being said. At one point, they asked again what I was looking for. Without pause, I held up my phone to show him the address of the hostel, and he took it.

At that moment, my heart sunk. My iPhone was now in the hands of someone on a motorbike who could drive away at any moment. This thought seemed to pass through Aftar’s head at the same time it did mine. He quickly grasped the handlebar of the bike as if to prevent the guy from driving away. There was a moment of tension as the two men looked at each other as if daring to speak the accusation aloud. What have you done? This is how your phone gets stolen in the middle of the night in Mumbai when you have no cash and no place to stay.

I swallowed. My heart skipped a beat. And the moment passed. I explained through bated breath that I had attempted to call the hostel but with little success. The man on the bike tried again…it rang…and I heard a sleepy, “Hello?”

My heart leaped, and he was once again babbling in his native tongue. I had no idea what was being said, but it was more progress than was being made previously. Could a bed be in my future?

Bedtime at last

With evidently new information, the two guys said something to the Uber driver as if to indicate the hostel was down the rat-filled alley. Like the travel angel he is, Aftar offered to drive me after them to find it. Apparently, Google Maps hadn’t been that off, but as I watched the rats scatter once again, I was thanking God that I hadn’t needed to find the hostel on foot after all.

Within three minutes, I saw the hostel sign, and the guys on the bike were excitedly pointing. I sighed with relief. It was shortly thereafter that I was ushered into the hostel and given the bed I had longed for all night.

This experience is proof that helpful strangers not only exist but that they exist in every single country. Yet, at the same time, I count my blessings that this story is about travel angels that genuinely wanted to help a solo female traveler from a foreign country in the dead of night. It’s not lost on me that my bumpy Mumbai arrival could have had a very different outcome, and it’s a reminder that I never want to be in situations like this by choice.

Travel is a way to empower yourself, and in this instance, I felt vulnerable and helpless. While late flight times are often unavoidable in certain parts of the world because of the way flight schedules work, I would undoubtedly plan differently, more carefully, and better next time.