India: 57 hours from Goa to Dharmasala

21.10.2013

• Last night began a 36 hour train ride with two nights sleeping on board which will culminate in a scramble across town in Delhi to catch an overnight bus to Dharamsala in the north of India after what would be 57 hours of travel door to door. We wake up this first morning on the train to watch our car-mates slowly stir and quietly watch the countryside passing by. I spend a couple of hours throughout the day playing sudoku, an easy way to pass time anymore. One needs not depart the train for any of your needs. When we reach a station the train is flooded with men and women selling a range of food products (often fried and, thus, delicious), personal items, trinkets, and the like. We spend the day staying hydrated and playing cards (I taught Else how to play poker). We ordered dinner from a rail employee who takes orders for veg or non-veg meals (Else and I both eating mostly veg these days). We make friends with other passengers who are less accustomed to seeing Westerners in sleeper class and are curious about where we are from and what we are doing in India. Friends are easy to make and the generosity of our bunk mates is remarkable. Long, detailed lists are made with possible itineraries, foods to be sampled, activities not to miss; emails are promised giving lists of places to visit and contact details are exchanged with the potential of day tripping to reconnect with would-be city guides. People are warm and open and happy to talk about their lives and their country. They ask for photographs with us and we insist on photographs with them. We wander the small spaces we have to stretch our legs and ignore the film of sweat and dust collecting on our bodies which nobody would notice through the similar layer they are aquiring. As night settles on the train we welcome the cooler air as we head further north, away from the humid coast, and toward another night of sleep cradled in the swaying and clung-clunk of the moving train. The trains are notoriously crowded with people who were unable to purchase a ticket but hop the train hoping to bribe the rail officer to take up space where they can. Three generations of a family share our benches until it is time for bed and then make a sleeping space on the floor below us, their children climbing on me without regard for personal space, contact that I find sweet and endearing. 

22.10.2013

• Day two on the train starts with more friends: a university cricket player and his engineering student pal; a man from Agra who hopes to meet us in his home town if timing works out; a man who lived in Delhi for years who has plenty of ideas to keep us busy; a group of teenaged boys from a boarding school in the north who had seen us on the beach in Goa and asked to take photos with us then and recognized us on the train now asking for another round of pics. The train trip proved to be a wonderful way to meet people and see a different side of India than I might have otherwise. Travel recommendation: take the train. 
• We arrived in Delhi and immediately look for a cab, fending off the onslaught of drivers asking for our attention as we make our way to the pre-paid taxi stand. Our cab drops us in a primarily Tibetan neighborhood in the north of the city where our bus will later depart. We find a place to check in, wandered the outdoor market, and then grab a quick dinner at a Tibetan restaurant where we ordered bhalek (stuffed, fried bread) and thenthuk (Tibetan noodle soup) with tea, of course. 
• We waited for our bus until we were informed that our bus would be leaving from a different location and Else and I and our fellow passengers were sent off in cabs to a new pick-up spot. We chatted with a woman from France who started an NGO in Nepal and her new travel companions, also from France. Our bus finally arrived and we bundled up for yet another AC-blasted ride through the dark mountains. A long movie played during the ride: Raanjhanaa, another politically minded love story with themes of social activism and class struggle - a movie I have decided I need the soundtrack to. It was a pleasant distraction to the incredibly iratic driving and loud and constant horn honking as we overtook cars along the road. Between the jerking and rolling and haulting I eventually fell asleep. We near the end of our long journey, freezing on a bus, exhausted, jostled, and grateful for the beauty of life.