Mumbai and Goa

It might seem strange to write about these two places together, seemingly so opposite. But in my mind they’re somehow linked. Perhaps because I came close to skipping both and instead sped in and out of both places, spending two days and one night in Mumbai and two nights and a day and a half in Goa. I zipped in, purposefully extracting what I was looking for in each and found both pleasantly surprised me.  

Mumbai was a matter of convenience based on its location and being a transportation hub. And at first Mumbai kind of scared me. It felt like something could fall out of the sky and kill someone and no one would notice or stop. Maybe I had just remembered too much of Katherine Boo’s Beyond the Beautiful Forevers of how people would get run over and their bodies would just lie in the street. It didn’t help that the GoStops Hostel in Mumbai was not in a very good or charming neighborhood. And everyone did seem to have a permanent grimace on their face.

Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus formerly Victoria Terminus (Mumbai's main railway station

A pedestrian overpass

Marine Drive

But once I relaxed into it, there were some beautiful buildings like the Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus (CST), the buildings at University of Mumbai. I walked a long version of the Lonely Planet’s walking tour, starting from the hostel, through Crawford Market, past CST, over to Marine Drive, then to the Gateway of India and the Taj Mahal Hotel. 

The Royal Falooda

This "Royal Falooda," was my favorite drink on a hot Mumbai day. Made with rose syrup, vermicelli, sweet basil seeds, milk, and ice cream, it was so delicious and refreshing! My favorite was at Badshah Cold Drinks. In two days, I developed a few favorite places that I went back to several times. In addition to Badshah, this dosa street stall became my favorite also. Right near the Mumbai Central Railway Station, everyone just stood right in front of the stall to eat these delicious and very cheap dosa. 

My favorite dosa stall

The crowded streets of Mumbai

The next day, I did a tour of the Devnadi slum, where the movie Slumdog Millionaire is supposedly based. The tour guide seemed annoyed to have to answer questions about this fictionalized version of a perfectly normal place where he happened to live. He said it was like that in the sixties or seventies but nothing like that now. The definition he said of a slum is where people are illegally living on government land. He seemed to say it had nothing to do with the economic status of the people who lived there. However, since 1995, all of the slums had been recognized and legalized. When I asked him why The Devnadi slums attracted so much attention and why there were tours of that slum and no others. He said it was because it had both commercial and residential areas. Peraonally, i think it also has to do with the movie!

The slum really ended up being like walking around a little town. So it didn’t seem like controversial poverty tourism to me. It hardly seemed different from where my hostel was except much more compact. The commercial part was very interesting, kind of like the real world version of when Mr. Rogers brings you to see where things are made. This was similar but much more sobering. We saw how they “recycled” plastics, sorting them, then breaking them down into pellets of different colors to be shipped off elsewhere so they could become plastic furniture or refrigerators. The workers slept on the factory floors next to their machines. In other factories, men sewed suit upon suit in a stiflingly hot little room. A worker ironed leather pieces that would later be turned into bags. It was a graphic reminder of what a “Made in India” label means. We went through the Muslim quarters and the Hindi quarters. There were many cats in the Muslim sector. The guide said it was because Muslims believe that if you come into contact with a dog’s saliva, you can’t pray for 13 days. I had noticed the presence of more cats since coming down South. Maybe it was because of the greater Muslim presence. We weren’t allowed to take photos, which I thought was a very respectful policy.

The highlight of that day was on my walk back to the train, where there were some beautiful murals (www.thewallproject.com) and Dhobi Ghat, the largest outdoor hand laundry in the world. The murals were a very pleasant surprise that I hadn’t known about until our guide gave me walking directions back to the train station. He had insisted it was too far to walk and wanted to call me a taxi. But after I google mapped it, it turned out to be only around 0.6 miles. The Indian definition of walkable is not the same as mine!

Dhobi Ghat

Dhobi ghat was just off the Maha Lakshmi station on the way back to Churchgate. They’ve even built a viewing platform just outside of the train station. Probably so nosy tourists don’t get in the way of people trying to do their work! First glance was stunning in its own way. Hotels and hospitals (green sheets) send their laundry to be done there along with people too busy to do it themselves. I even saw Indian Railways sheets there. Dhobis are people who hand wash laundry and it is crazy to think that it’s cheaper for all of these major businesses to have someone hand wash all of the linens. Labor is cheap in India. 

Laundry drying at Dhobi Ghat

A sixteen-hour sleeper brought me to Margao from where I took a local bus to Palolem, one is the beaches in the South of Goa. From my hostel in Mumbai to my hostel in Goa, it took approximately 20 hours. 

Bus to Palolem

As soon as I showered, I joined the hostel’s sunset dolphin tour. It was a great deal at a cost of 300 rupees! 

From the sunset boat ride

My delicious vegetarian dinner with super boozy kombucha

Patnem Beach

Beachfront dinner at Palolem

My full day in Goa, I walked to Patnem Beach, which is smaller than Palolem, and spent the day reading under an umbrella beachside, sipping drinks, and hanging out in the waves. 

I was feeling somewhat hungover from a my surprisingly boozy kombucha the night before— perhaps a combination of high alcohol content and a very empty and dehydrated stomach! The next morning I took a seven hour train from Goa to Hospet that seemed mercifully short after the string of overnight buses I've taken to fit in all of these last few destinations.