Mumbai, India, is a polarising, electric masterpiece—a city you either hate or love, but can never ignore. The first time I found myself here, I didn’t like it. I didn’t like the sticky July heat, I didn’t like the traffic, and I didn’t understand why just being here was reason enough for glee. I didn’t understand the fuss. I thought perhaps, at heart, my being a small-town girl had something to do with it. It has taken a husband from Mumbai and many unavoidable visits to truly decode it. Today, I see it for what it is: an undeniably brave, intelligent, and fiercely fast metropolis, yes, but one that doesn’t demand any conformity. There is a genuine warmth here, endless room for discovery, and the freedom to simply be yourself. Follow me on this part love letter and part guide to Mumbai.

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What to see: Coastal highways, gothic spires & Pavement sentinels 

To truly see Mumbai is to watch its architectural centuries from the back seat of a vintage kaali-peeli taxi—the iconic black and yellow cab. My journey begins as we glide onto the cable-stayed Bandra-Worli Sea Link, skimming across Mahim Bay before transitioning onto the sweeping new coastal road. Plunging into undersea tunnels beneath Malabar Hill, we emerge onto Marine Drive, tracing a seamless southward direction into the city’s old British heart. Driving deeper into the Fort district and around Flora Fountain, the streets turn theatrical with dramatic Victorian Gothic and Art Deco structures. The crowning jewel is Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus—a breathtaking cathedral of commerce defined by its majestic Gothic spires reaching into the sky. 

Cutting eastward, the journey reaches its architectural crescendo at the sea, where we cruise past the grand arches of the Gateway of India and the neighbouring Taj Mahal Palace hotel. Yet, looking past the sheer magnitude of this city, the exuberance of a simple taxi ride truly transports me to its centre. Looking up at these historic marvels, I realise how much has been lost to time. But as the heavy tropical heat drops and night takes over, the scene shifts. The sleepy street cats of Mumbai, who spent the afternoon lounging perfectly still on sun-baked stone ledges, are now wide awake. Their bright eyes glaze in the dark, and I secretly believe they guard this historic city—our pavement sentinels, watching silently over Mumbai’s relentless, beautiful chaos.

Where to eat: From morning marigolds to iconic Parsi cafes & Historic bars

Mumbai’s culinary landscape can create a sensory punctuation, but to me, it shifts seamlessly from traditional morning rituals to modern flavours. The journey begins before the city fully wakes. While vendors begin setting up at 4:00 AM, we arrive by 5:00 AM at the relentless Dadar Flower Market. My father-in-law and my daughter join me for a fun day. Wading through the labyrinth of damp lanes, we watch vendors toss mountains of vibrant orange marigolds alongside pastel roses, velvety red lotuses, and fragrant white mogra (jasmine), while a nearby knife sharpener hones his blades. Just past the street sellers, wholesale stalls reveal Mumbai’s broader trade in premium blooms, stacked with imported Thai orchids, vibrant anthuriums, delicate lisianthus, structural birds of paradise, and elegant lilies. 

Along the pavement, we pick up a handful of crisp, local white jamun (plums) from a fruit vendor—a refreshing, pale-pink luxury perfectly in season. The fragrant morning rush stirs an appetite, leading us straight into the neighbouring Matunga area to eat breakfast together. At the legendary Café Madras, we join the shared-table crunch of early risers, washing down impossibly fluffy idlis (rice cakes) and savoury upma (semolina porridge) with steel tumblers of frothy, chicory-laced filter coffee while my father-in-law shares stories of a 70s Mumbai.

For a design and caffeine reset, we later head to Bandra, slipping into Boojee Cafe to sip a hot latte alongside a grilled cottage cheese sandwich slathered in fiery theecha chutney—a brilliant, modern homage to local Maharashtrian spice. 

By afternoon, our trajectory bends toward heritage, highlighting Mumbai’s classic Parsi dining scene. The Parsis—a Zoroastrian community that migrated to India from Persia centuries ago—profoundly shaped the city’s food culture through their welcoming cafes. At Britannia & Co., housed within the grand, Renaissance-style stone facades of Ballard Estate, we sit beneath whirring vintage ceiling fans to devour their iconic, tart-sweet berry pulao (sweet-and-sour rice dish). We pair the rice with comforting dhansak (curry) and crispy veg pattice, scooped up with soft pieces of bread. To drink, we pop open bottles of Pallonji cream soda, a sweet, fizzy Parsi beverage staple, before finishing the feast with a rich slab of lagan nu custard (traditional Parsi wedding dessert). As the evening cools and the sea breeze rolls into Colaba, our final stop is Cafe Mondegar. Under its irreverent, retro murals, we find the ultimate urban antidote: a comforting plate of pasta, a cold beer for me, and a front-row seat to the chaotic theatre of the Mumbai night. For a midnight treat, we pre-order a moist chocolate walnut brownie by unconventional baker Tushar Toprani of 1401 Bakery.

Left: Dosa and side dishes, image by Alaap D. Centre: Cafe Mondegar, image by Rushikesh Patil. Right: Theecha sandwich from Boojee Cafe, image by Nupur Singh.

Where to shop: From high-end artisanal craft to pavement alleys 

When shopping in Mumbai, you can make it your own cinema production, transitioning from high-ceilinged sanctuaries to the wonderful wild theatre of the streets. Step off the busy pavements directly into Swadesh at Churchgate—a magnificent, experiential retail flagship housed inside the historic Art Deco Eros Cinema building, which showcases the pinnacle of Indian craftsmanship. Here, under pristine gallery lighting, run your hands over intricate handloom textiles, delicate rosewood woodwork, masterful hand-carved marble inlay decor, and timeless, heritage-inspired jewels. 

Plunge back into the sunlight and the roaring street-side energy. Around the grand arcades of Flora Fountain, legendary book carts form towering pavement labyrinths of ink and paper. If you don’t find your literary treasure there, a quick trip up to the pavement book displays at Matunga East reveals even more hidden, second-hand gems. For a complete sensory shift, flag down a taxi to Colaba Causeway. This bustling strip is the ultimate street bazaar, crammed with stalls showcasing heavy silver, oxidised jewellery, eclectic trinkets, and rows of brilliant, quirky street magic tricks and souvenirs. Street shopping here means engaging in a time-honoured, witty dance of negotiation to curate your own chest of treasures.

Your personal checklist should weave together the absolute best of both worlds: high-craft investments from Swadesh like exquisite pattu (silk) weaves, Chikankari fabrics, handmade silk shawls, hand-carved marble coasters, bone-inlay trinket boxes, and heritage-inspired jewellery pieces. Pavement paperbacks consisting of rare, out-of-print classic novels or vintage history books fished from the stacks at Flora Fountain or Matunga East; and kitsch souvenirs from Colaba Causeway, including chased silver earrings, thick oxidised cuffs, vintage-style brass trinkets, neon-bright smartphone cases, and quirky beaded bags.

Left: Flora Fountain, Mumbai, image by Ayush Kamath. Right: Gateway Of India, image by Deeya Rustum.

Last hurrah: Way to the airport 

Before heading to the terminal for our flight home, we make one final, essential suburban pilgrimage to Radhe Krishna in Vile Parle. Because Vile Parle sits right next to the airport, we purposely kept this delicious stop for the very end of our journey. Here we order a legendary plate of richly spiced pav bhaji (spicy vegetable curry) doused in Amul butter and scooped up with warm, pillow-soft buttery pav. Beside it sits a golden, crisp masala dosa, a completely separate masterpiece that arrives with cool coconut chutney, a fiery spicy tomato chutney, and a bowl of steaming sambar goodness (lentil-based vegetable curry). Our journey concludes seamlessly near the airport at the Courtyard by Marriott Mumbai International Airport, where I slip away into the serene sanctuary of Ode Spa. Succumbing to a deeply restorative 45-minute full body massage followed by a relaxing bath, the frantic rhythm and beautiful chaos of the streets dissolve completely. I step out entirely reset, smelling of cedarwood and sandalwood, already sketching our next trip back in my mind before boarding the flight home.

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The land where the sea becomes salt

You do not merely arrive in the Little Rann of Kutch; you dissolve into it. Located in the northwestern corner of Gujarat, India, this vast 5,000-square-kilometre salt marsh is a geographical illusionist. Millions of years ago, this land was an extension of the Arabian Sea. Over millennia, geological shifts cut off the inlet, trapping a shallow watery basin.

Today, a seasonal cycle dictates its life. Every monsoon, the sea and local rivers flood the plains. But as the fierce desert sun takes over, the water recedes and evaporates, leaving behind a blinding, white-cracked crust of pure salt. It is a prehistoric landscape that defies the traditional definition of a desert. It is an ecotone, a rare, transitional zone and a living, breathing biosphere that encompasses the lesser-known Indian Wild Ass Sanctuary. Here, life does not just survive; it thrives through a seasonal alchemy of mud and tide. Standing here today, I looked out at a featureless, surreal topography where the horizon line completely vanishes, blurring the boundary between earth and sky.

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This trip was hosted by The Fern Sattva Resort, Little Rann of Kutch who did not review or approve this story.

My desert sanctuary: The Fern Sattva Resort

Perched right on the edge of this stunning, rugged wilderness, I found the ideal base for my explorations at The Fern Sattva Resort, Little Rann of Kutch, Series by Marriott. Instead of just talking about eco-friendly ideas, the resort actively practices them. During my stay, I learned that they harvest rainwater, run on solar power, recycle their waste, and strictly limit plastic use, making my journey feel genuinely responsible.

The layout, shaped by ARK Reza Kabul Architects, felt exceptionally built to spoil, yet it managed to blend up-to-date amenities with a warm, rustic charm. The room’s interior elements, from the organic timber finishes to the dim, warm lighting seemed to imitate the raw desert tones outside carefully. My room featured a Bougainvillea garden where a curious spiny lizard often darted out to visit, an open-air bathroom where I could count the stars during a night bath under the desert sky, and a veranda with a pool. The thoughtfully designed villas clustered around a central lily pond, built to lower the resort’s environmental footprint, gave me a quiet place to unwind and sleep to the sound of the cattails as the wind blew through them.

In the afternoon, hungry, I headed over to Dune, the resort’s main dining spot. The menu pays true homage to the region, balancing familiar international choices with authentic local Gujarati flavours. For lunch, I sat down to an incredibly comforting, rustic meal of Aloo Baigan shaak, a rich, spiced curry of potatoes and eggplant, which I scooped up using hot, fresh rotis. To beat the intense afternoon heat, I paired it with a cold, tangy glass of spiced buttermilk, known locally as chaas. That warm, satisfying meal provided the ultimate sensory contrast to the raw, windswept wilderness waiting just outside the resort property.

The Fern Sattva Resort, Little Rann of Kutch, images by Nupur Singh.

The sunset safari: Into the salt’s silhouette

My true immersion began in the cooling late afternoon as we climbed into an open-top, four-wheel-drive safari jeep alongside my expert naturalist guide, arranged by The Fern Sattva Resort. The engine rumbled to life, and we left the paved roads behind. The tire tracks crunching softly over the fragile, saline earth as we tracked deeper into the heart of the salt world. The cracked clay hexagons beneath my feet stretched out uninterrupted for miles, a geometric masterpiece carved entirely by the elements. 

Suddenly, a wild boar bolted from the brush, running swiftly across our path and kicking up dust before disappearing into the arid scrub. As the afternoon shifted, I witnessed the region’s famous “pink horizons.” Thousands of migratory lesser flamingos, pelicans, cranes, and storks blanketed the seasonal water pockets, turning the horizon into a shimmering blush of pink and white. My naturalist cut the engine. 

In the absolute quiet of this unparalleled birdwatching haven, my daughter suddenly raised her hand, stopping us mid-breath. Peering through her binoculars, she spotted a fierce Merlin, a compact, hyper-focused falcon known for its lightning-fast aerial hunts, perched starkly on a dead tree stump, while a majestic peregrine falcon rested quietly on the ground near a shrub nearby.

Just beyond it, our guide pointed to a much darker drama unfolding in the sky: a massive cinereous vulture was making a sudden, low sweep toward the ground. It was targeting an Indian Desert Fox pup, also known as the White-footed Fox. The naturalist explained that these animals are beautifully engineered for extreme climates, using their unusually large ears to shed body heat and pinpoint the faint rustles of underground prey. Fortunately, the pup darted into its den just in time. Turning our eyes back to the wetlands, the predatory display escalated as we watched a stealthy steppe eagle in action, powerfully conquering and eating a swan at the water’s edge.

As we rolled past the scrub, our presence froze a lone Indian Striped Hyena in its tracks. Caught in the open before dark, it erected its long spine mane, licking its jaws while locking onto our jeep with piercing, analytical eyes for a breathless second before vanishing into the thorns.

Right in the middle of these dynamic mudflats, a herd of the rare Indian Wild Ass emerged from the shimmering dust. I watched in awe as these magnificent, chestnut-coloured creatures sprinted effortlessly across the cracked earth, putting on a breathtaking display of the incredible speed and stamina that make them famous.

By now the air had cooled rapidly as my naturalist stopped near the wetland and I saw the sun melting like I have never before in hues of orange, pink and red. The vast white salt desert dissolved into a flawless, expansive mirror. The entire sky ignited. Out here, the standard metrics of time and distance simply evaporate. Looking out at the horizon, it became blindingly clear that this is no empty void; it is a complex, hyper-resilient landscape shaped by a quiet, majestic history, raw adventure, and an impossibly adaptive nature.

Images courtesy of The Fern Sattva Resort, Little Rann of Kutch.

Travel practicalities

• Getting there: Fly from Toronto or Vancouver into Ahmedabad (AMD), followed by a two-to-three-hour private drive.
• When to visit: October to March provides cool weather and peak migratory bird numbers.
• What to pack: Bring clothing layers for extreme temperature shifts, plus high-SPF sunscreen, a cotton scarf, and polarised sunglasses for the salt glare.
• Booking safaris: Arrange your jeep tours through the front desk at The Fern Sattva Resort, Little Rann of Kutch, Series by Marriott for certified naturalists.
• Private tours: Discover the Rann of Kutch on a 3-day private tour from Ahmedabad. Explore Kutchi villages, visit Bhuj’s palaces and enjoy a stay in Tent City with a guide.
  

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For decades, the family’s distilling narrative was a dormant heritage, a story whose middle chapters were missing. While their brewing history was public record, the physical legacy of their spirit-making remained elusive. The discovery at 43 Arthur St. South—formerly Allan’s Mill—added a layer of intrigue to the tale. In 2015, during a walkthrough of the site for potential renovation, the family found hidden tanks and a secret piping system concealed within a false basement. While these likely belonged to a separate, unnamed operation, the site’s proximity to the railway lines made it a perfect hub for the type of “midnight runs” that favoured the likes of Al Capone. This revelation, proving the site was a clandestine nexus for illicit spirits, prompted the family to scrap plans for a modern build on the highway, choosing instead to restore this limestone relic and finally give the Spring Mill name a permanent home in Guelph.

John Sleeman speaking on a tour of Spring Mill Distillery. Image by Kateryna Topol.

The forbidden legacy:
“The ink of an old recipe book”

The Sleeman lineage is defined by a rebellious streak stretching back to the late 1700s. The family’s predecessors were privateers in Cornwall, England—maritime adventurers who operated with the edge of a pirate but the legal veneer of a government commission. When privateering was no longer viable, they transitioned into the pub trade. One descendant, John H. Sleeman, brought this defiant spirit to Canada, establishing a brewery in 1834 and the original Spring Mill Distillery in 1836.

While the 1836 distillery was a separate enterprise, the family has now brought that name to the restored Allan’s Mill building. By the 1850s, industrial pollution had forced the original distilling operations to cease. The family’s penchant for the forbidden resurfaced during Prohibition, leading to a notorious smuggling operation that made Sleeman beer a staple in Chicago’s underground. The consequences were severe; in 1933, the family was officially stripped of their brewing license for 50 years.

A central artefact in this comeback is a weathered family recipe book, held by an aunt during the 1933 crackdown and preserved for a future generation. “We tell lots of stories there,” Cooper Sleeman says of the family’s history, noting that the book served as the map for his father, John Sleeman, to reclaim the family business in 1988, notably for their famous cream ale. While the book focuses on beer, it serves as the philosophical map for John Sleeman & Sons’ current commitment to quality.

The alchemy of copper:
“If you don’t ask, you don’t get”

To honour this legacy, the family turned to Richard Forsyth of Scotland, the world’s premier still maker. The family spent eighteen months convincing him that Spring Mill was a worthy home for his craft. Copper is a sacrificial metal, essential for scrubbing harsh sulfurs from the liquid during the boil. In the Spring Mill stillroom, these Scottish stills work in tandem with local Ontario grain to produce a spirit of sophisticated smoothness. Cooper believes in the power of persistence, citing the family motto passed down from his father: “If you don’t ask, you don’t get”. It is this mindset that secured the world-class equipment now sitting in the Ward.

A sibling’s labour:
Forging the Ontario oak narrative

If the stills are the heart, the cooperage is the hand. Quinn Sleeman, younger brother to Cooper, has taken on the apprenticeship of a dying art, focusing on the rare use of Canadian white oak barrels, seasoned in the rain and snow for eighteen months for select premium releases. Quinn’s barrels are reserved for the Cooper’s Rye—a name that serves as a playful double-entendre for both the craft and the family name. The labour is intensive, a manual process of assembly that demands total precision. Cooper views this side of the business as a lesson in patience, and Quinn’s first batch was a testament to that endurance. Having mastered the trade, Quinn’s work now represents the literal bottling of the Ontario landscape.

The modern steward:
Adapting to the surge

Today, Cooper Sleeman acts as the bridge between the privateer mythology of the 1700s and the modern market. He is attentive to the changing habits of the consumer, particularly the meteoric rise of Ready-To-Drink (RTD) options and the growing demand for zero-alcohol beverages. Spring Mill’s most popular RTD—a Ginger Lime Mule—was born from a simple request by his mother for a high-quality “mule in a can”. Beyond traditional spirits, the distillery is identifying the “all the rage” trend of non-alcoholic alternatives, ensuring they remain agile by leveraging the wider Sleeman network. “We have lots and lots and lots of whiskey that we put down,” Cooper says, but the modern portfolio must meet the demand for versatility alongside that traditional heritage.

Writer Nupur Singh on a tour of Spring Mill Distillery. Image by Kateryna Topol.

The lingering spirit:
A future in the making

As John Sleeman & Sons moves through 2026, the momentum is tangible. Their wine-cask-aged single malt recently took top honours at the National Whisky Awards, winning best single cask in Canada—a win that validates their patient approach. As Cooper notes, “whiskey ages with the seasons,” and this evolution informs their upcoming high-profile launches, including an Irish-inspired whiskey for St. Patrick’s Day. This agility is backed by a formidable engine; since 1988, the company has grown into Canada’s third-largest brewer. By managing a high-contrast portfolio—from the artisanal depths of Unibroue to the global reach of Sapporo—the family remains hyper-tuned to the market, using their diverse fleet to stay ahead of the next big thing.

Today, the history of Spring Mill Distillery is a tactile experience rather than a static archive. The distillery invites people to step inside the original walls for guided tours, where visitors can witness the labour of the stills and the precision of the cooperage firsthand. Beyond the technical craft, it has become a cornerstone of the Ward’s social fabric. Guests can linger at the onsite pub to sample the “Cooper’s Rye” or enjoy a “Fresh Ginger Lime Mule”. By opening their doors, the family isn’t just reclaiming a name, they have created a space where the community can sit down and raise a glass with a legacy that refused to stay erased.

The Ward Bar at Spring Mill Distillery, open Tuesday through Sunday. Image by Kateryna Topol.

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