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. Sri Lanka China ??? 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 servic
