Aurangabad

Tuesday April 29 1:26pm

On the train to Aurangabad from Mumbai I somehow ended up in a class above where I usually travel, so there were only two levels of bunk beds, and no beggars whatsoever. The bed was actually comfortable and the only person in my compartment when we left was a nice Spanish man named Alfanso, who was also on his way to see the Ellora Caves. We were both tired, so we went to bed fairly quickly, but about a half hour later another family got on the train and the peaceful journey came to an end as the man who was in the bunk next to me fell asleep and began snoring like a horse being strangled.

View from the mountain roads

At four in the morning I woke Alfanzo up and we got off the train. Alfanzo was an older man, probably in his fourties, so he was responsible enough to have reaserched hotels before he came to India. I had been planning to just hang around the train station until it was light outside, but he invited me to come along with him to his hotel, where we were sure there would be an open room because it is not the tourist season. The hotel was a little outside my budget, but just by a few bucks, so I quickly agreed with the idea of a shower and a bed in mind. We got to the hotel and checked in around 5, and Alfanzo made plans to take a day trip to the farther of the two sets of caves that we had come to see. I would have joined him, but the tour started at 8:30, I had an ear and throat infection, and I had not slept a wink. Instead I went to my super nice room and slept until noon.

Sufi saint shrine

At noon I got up and decided that I would spend the day doing the small tourst sights that most people skip, and I would go to one set of caves the next day (see next post). I was low on cash so I set out to find an ATM, and though the machines were everywhere I had to go to four different ones before I got one that worked. By the time I finally got cash I was hungry, for I had skipped breakfast, and I found this large but dingy bar and restaurant. When I walked in everyone was shocked, for they clearly do not get many women, not to mention white ones. But the food was good, the atmosphere local, and the prices cheap. I ended up eating at this place three times, and each time they seemed not to believe that I was actually there. They were so knocked off their game that they increased the quality of their service by 10 fold. To the guys at the table next to me they did little more then bring the food and take it away, but they served me my food, checked in on me constantly, and kept refilling my water glass from my water bottle. It was quite cute.

Inside Bibi Qa Maquab

After lunch I was off to see the sights, the first of which was the Bibi Qa Maquab, or the “poor man’s Taj” for it looks just like the Taj, except it is smaller, dirtier, and less well kept. It was funny in a depressing kind of way. But it was worth seeing nonetheless. I then went to the closest set of caves that were not much to see, and a few other sights that were not worth anything. However, I did get into a small water fight with some Muslim women in one that was the best part of my day.

After the tourist sights I went to the local market, for it is there that you truly understand the way a city works. After Varanasi I was shocked by how chill and laid back the place was. People stared at me because I was the only white person around, not because I was a potential source of extra income. It was friendly, clean, quite, and calm. There were mostly Muslims in the market, indicating a large Muslim presence in the town and almost no animals. People stopped to chat and the entire market was only a few blocks big. This small town was a whole different world than the India I was used to, and I liked it a lot.

I came back to the hotel early and settled down, for even though I had not done much it was still over a hundred degrees and I was exhausted.

Shabbat in Mumbai

Sunday April 28 5:32

I had arrived in Mumbai at 9:30pm the night before and ordered a taxi from a legit company. While I was waiting for the taxi another man forcibly tried to get me to go into his car, but like a good little girl I said no. He seemed both surprised and pissed by how determined I was to get into the right taxi.

My taxi finally came, and I told him the address of a hotel I got out of The Lonely Planet. He could not find the place for an excruciatingly long time, and when he did it was down a sketchy ally and up some stairs with people sleeping in it. The hostel itself was fine, and the owner was friendly, but he only had triple rooms available and because it was almost 11:00pm. I had to dish out the dough and take it. The room cost me almost 20 dollars.

Cricket Park

When I woke up the next morning and went to the bathroom I noticed a high-pitched squeak. I was slightly confused, but I finished my business and got up to flush. And then shrieked a little. A mouse had climbed out of the sewer system, into my toilet bowl, and was trying to get out as I sat there. Pulling myself together I flushed (the mouse did not go down), turned around, and walked out to begin my day.

The reason I chose the hotel in the first place is because it is next to the Kenesset Eliyahoo Synagogue, a bright blue Sephardic Shul that is closed to tourists on Saturday for services. There was some really intense security there when I tried to go to the services, including what looked like a mini tank, and you would have thought I was applying for the CIA. Knowing what the security man wanted to hear, I lied, and told him that Chabad from Varanasi sent me, even though I read about the Shul on the Internet. “Chabad” was like a secret password, and I was finally allowed in.

Though the Shul was large, the service was almost empty. There were two other foreign girls, three local women, and a smattering of both in the men’s sections, but the place felt eerily vacant. Add to that the chipping paint and it was clear that this community had seen better days. The Rabbi was a young man straight out of Israel, and there were very few Indian men.

After the service we were all invited to a delicious lunch downstairs, and I had a lovely time talking to the few women, though they may have tried to set me up with their resident socially awkward forty something bachelor. Other then that, it was great.

As lunch finished I headed out, but was chased down by the 25 year old Rabbi who moved to Mumbai a month ago. When I told him I had no plans he asked me to walk with him, and showed me the Gateway of India, the Taj Hotel, and the hotel where he stays on Shabbas. Between my Hebrew and his English we were able to carry on a nice conversation, and we were stopped a few times by other Jews who were attracted to his frum look. It was really nice, though I did keep slipping into Hindi.

Mumbai University

After I said goodbye to the Rabbi I continued walking, and an Indian boy joined me. I usually don’t let them walk with me, but this one did not ask for any money or for me to come to his shop within the first few minutes, so I let him show me how to get to Mumbai University. We walked though a park and watched some young children at cricket practice, and then I basically told him to get lost because I was tired and wanted to sit down and read a book. At this point I had done a few hours of walking, and still had a few hours before my trains, so I found a café and other places to just hang out until it was time to go to the train station.

All these people say Mumbai is a scary place, and I am sure once I leave tourist-vill when I go back in a few days it will be, but the tourist spots in Mumbai have nothing on the tourist spots in Varanasi. If you can do Varanasi, you can do anywhere. Yesterday someone told me they heard Varanasi was the ‘Shithole of India’, and I think I may have to agree. Even the Mumbai locals were shocked when they heard that I had spent a few months in Banaras, misunderstanding my pervious naiveté for bravery.

PS. I lost my Kiddi Tims in the Mumbai train station, resulting in my almost missing my train, and a little bit of a crushed spirit. Add to that the ear and throat infection I got yesterday, and it was a bad end to a good day.

Toy Train and Jeeps: Darjeeling and Kursion

Friday April 26, 6:13pm

 Toy Trains and Jeeps: Darjeeling and Kursion 

Right now I am sitting in the Delhi airport waiting for my plane to Mumbai. I have just left the beautiful Himalayas where I spent a lovely morning listening to Billy Jonas as I drove though the mountains in the back of a Jeep.

The day after Bad Jack and the Magical Sunrise all four girls got up early to take the Toy Train Joy Ride. The Toy Train is a tiny little railroad that goes though the mountains, and is on the UN World Heritage Site List.  The British built it to use when they were in charge of India, and now it is a major site in Darjeeling. Its top point is the highest railway station in the world, and when it was built it required major innovations in mountain railway design. Normally you can take the train up and down the mountain, but because of landslides the lower tracks are out of order. Instead there is a joy ride that just goes around the top, offering great views and a stop at a cute little museum about the train.

After the Toy Train I said goodbye to the English girls as they went to Calcutta, and I went about half way down the mountain to a town called Kursion. I was wandering around looking for a cheap hotel in this town that is off the tourist beaten path when a white girl with an American accent stopped me. She asked me if I was looking for a cheap room and when I said yes she told me that almost everyplace was full but she had a double all to herself. She invited me to room with her and I quickly said yes.

After I settled in we went out to explore the town and ended up walking about an hour outside of the village. We stopped in a tiny shack of a restaurant for some momos and Chaii and then wandered into a tea plantation. It was beautiful. The tea was in full bloom and the paths were lined with Tibetan Prayer Flags, adding to the ambiance. Eventually we sat down in the middle of the fields looking out to the mountain and chatted about life, education, and especially camp, for hours. Keala was from California, and at 27 she had just gotten her teaching credentials. She was taking some time to travel before attempting to volunteer in Laos, teaching English for a few months. She spent her summers in a family run camp, and we could not have fit together more.

 

As the sun was setting we headed back to the hotel for a girls movie night of A Bugs Life, complete with the first popcorn I have had for months. After an early breakfast the next morning I wished her luck on her travels, hopped in the first jeep heading down, and went to the airport.

Bad Jack and the Lovely Darjeeling Joy Ride

Wednesday April 24. 12:41pm

Yesterday after breakfast Lauren, one of the English girls I met on the train, and I decided we were going to hire a car to take us around Darjeeling, for there is little public transportation, and the sights are fairly spread out. We went to talk to the hotel manager and after looking at me and asking if I was a student he named a price that was far lower than anyone else around. We were to be ready in half an hour.

Bad Jack!

A half an hour later we meet Bad Jack Alex, our driver for the day. As he pulls up to the hotel the receptionist jumps out, we hop in and away we go. When we get in the car we realize this is no normal taxi driver. In fact, it is not a taxi driver at all; it is the receptionist’s boyfriend, and his private car. This Nepali Indian man with green eyes, is a case study in contradictions. He wears a leather jacket and calls himself Bad Jack, but at the same time has a “Jesus Loves You” sign on his rearview mirror. He told us about all of the American women he used to date, and his girlfriend from California who he dumped because she asked him not to talk to other girls, then he quoted the bible multiple times. For Bad Jack everything was “lovely”, we were both his “darlings” and everyone was his friend.

Tea Pickers on the Mountain

Our first stop was a few miles outside of town at the Ropeway, a five kilometer cable car ride that take you down and back up the mountain, where you can see the women picking tea. Then it was to the Sikkim/ India border, and the local cricket stadium from colonial times. We stopped at the Tibetan Refugee Self Help Center, where they have a nice photo exhibit and a shop where they sell the handicrafts they make. All proceeds go back to the center so I bought a wool sweater. They refugees were in a group meeting, so the workshops were closed, but it was a beautiful place and the kids playing outside seemed happy. In order to get to the Refugee Center we had to take a winding and unpaved road far up the mountain, and as a Midwest girl I was sure I was going to die.

Next came a quick look at the rock people use to train for climbing Mount Everest and then a chaii break and a walk around the tea leave fields. We finished off our day at the Japanese Peace Pagoda, one of the beautiful white Buddhist temples that have been built all over the world to promote nonviolence, especially to protest nuclear weapons. In the temple we got to witness and participate with the chanting and drumming of three monks, and even though we could not quite get the Japanese syllables right it was very soothing.

Sunset from Tiger Hill

When we got back to the hotel we begged the hotel manager to book Bad Jack again for the next morning, to see the sunrise at the Tiger Hill observatory. There was a timing confusion, so at 3:50 am  there was a knock on our door and Bad Jack was waiting there telling us to get up and hurry! We threw on as many layers as we could and ran out the door. This time the hotel receptionists, and Jack’s girlfriend, Eva, joined us, and up the mountain we went.

From Tiger Hill we saw a beautiful sunrise and the most stunning views of the snow-capped Himalayas in the morning light. It was as though the clouds knew we were there, and they perfectly enshrined the peak of Mount Everest, making it stand out. We were so far away it did not look exceptionally tall, but it did look very pointy.

Ghoom Bhuddist Monastery

On our way down to the hotel we stopped at one of the Ghoom Buddhist Monasteries, a darling place with beautiful religious art, and a great view of the mountains. The monastery we went to was not the biggest one, but the oldest one, so it was off the tourist beaten trail, making it a lovely and quiet experience. There were a few people worshipping there, but the interesting thing is that when they circled the building clockwise as part of their worship they were all at a run.

After a quick look at the Darjeeling War Memorial we went back to the hotel. Lauren and I got breakfast in our room, leaving Eva and Jack to have a little date, then promptly when back to bed.

After a quick rest at the hotel after the first day’s tour, Lauren and I went to dinner, where we ended up chatting with a bunch of other travelers, including one I had met in Varanasi previously. This is what I learned about backpacking

What I learned about backpacking culture in one night (Forgive the generalizations):

• Everyone does the same route: Southeast Asia, Australia, Asia, than South America.
• Australia is where everyone goes in the middle to make more money to travel more because they have a very high minimum wage, so you can make bank with no skills.
• When you travel you have the same conversation over and over and over and over.



Inside the Ghoom Monastery



•  Where are you from?
• How old are you?
• Where have you been?
• Where are you going?
• How long have you been traveling?
• What do you do back home?
• That is it. There is nothing more
• Travelers band together, which stops them from meeting locals.
• There is a superiority thing about not doing the main tourist sights, which I don’t understand, because why would you go to a place where you are going to spend only a few days and not see the sights that make it famous. We were told not to go to the sunrise because it was stupid. It was a sunrise. How can that be stupid?
• Travelers are convinced everyone must go travelling, because it changes a person, but they would never consider staying in one place for any amount of time.
• There seems to be a tendency to go to a million places, and never really understand one. I barley understand Varanasi in four months of interacting with the community, but people are convinced when they spend four nights in a place they get it, when all they did was talk to westerners.
• Most travelers do not know that everyone calls Varanasi “Banaras”, meaning they all think that I just get the name wrong and am an idiot. Indians on the other hand, know exactly what I am talking about.
• When we left the restaurant we all headed over to a bar where they were showing a “film”. I assumed it would be a Hindi movie, but instead it was Austin Powers, and nobody saw the sadness of going out to an old western movie in a place with the largest movie industry in the world, when they had done the same thing the night before. The idea of watching a Hindi movie never came up.

Conclusion: Travel if you would like. That is fine. But travelling less places for longer periods of time will allow you to actually understand where you are and really learn about the culture. Wear the clothes, speak a few words of the language, and enjoy the place you are in rather than looking forward to the next place.

Basically, be a student, work, or volunteer in a city. Don’t just be there.

Darjeeling of the Hills.

Tuesday April 23, 8:41am

It has been an intense few weeks. I know that I have not updated in a while, but I have not had one minute to write for fun.

In the past few weeks I have:

•  Planned a trip to Nepal
•    Had the trip to Nepal cancelled because AirIndia cancelled the plane
•   Planned an alternative trip to Darjeeling and Mumbai with a jaunt to Ellora and Ajanta
•   Wrote a 60 page field work report about the economy of religious ritual
• Took finals
• Wore Saris
• Went to the kings of Varanasi’s fort, a somewhat disgusting place with a cool little museum of old cars and weapons across the Gunga.
•   Rode an elephant 
• Rode one of Varanasi’s first two electric rickshaws
• Learned Liquid Kolam 
• Rode a motorcycle with one of Varanasi biggest radio DJ (Sundar Ji’s Brother)
• Learned to do liquid Kolam
• MCed the Wisconsin final performance in a way so American it was shocking to the Indian audience, but they LOVED it. I think Americans may have been bored, but the Indians ate it up!
•  Learned to pronounce many Indian names correctly.
• BOOKED TICKETS TO SENIOR WEEK!
•  Annoyed IBTL to make sure they had their stuff together.
•   Packed my things,



Liquid Kolam



• Said Goodbye

Right now I am sitting in my hotel room in Darjeeling, my first stop on my adventure through India. After going to the River Ashram one last time yesterday, and saying goodbye to my tutorial teachers family, I went home to pick up my stuff. Of course, the horrible dogs had peed all over both of my bags, but there was nothing I could do. I had a train to catch so I picked them up and headed downstairs.

I said a quick good bye to Karen and Devin and was off.

Heading out to catch the train

Once at the train station I became incredibly paranoid about finding the right platform. I did not want a repeat of Agra (See last post). I must have asked at least 10 people who work there, and they all told me to go to platform 1 or 2, but that my train was delayed. I went into the ladies waiting room, and took out a book to read.

There were a few men with their wives and families in the waiting room, but there was enough room, and everyone was quiet, so no one cared. Then these two crabby old women started freaking out. And I mean freaking out. They were yelling and stomping and probably cursing, though it was in Hindi, in order to get the men to leave the room. Some of the men stared arguing back, and I swear it looked like someone was going to throw a punch. It was India at it’s finest, especially when you consider the fact that the train-workers union was having a protest in the background.

The Hills from the top

Eventually the chaos settled down, and the room became quiet again. About an hour after it was scheduled to leave, they finally called my train. It is on platform three. Luckily I know my Hindi counting numbers so I was able to run over to the correct platform, and I had plenty of time to find the right car. In my 6-person compartment there was a nice older Indian couple, and three English girls who were also going to Darjeeling.

We got to talking, and they told me that they had all moved from England to Australia, where apparently you can make a lot money for unskilled jobs, and then travelled all around Asia. They have all been travelling for about a year, but they had only been in India for 6 weeks. Until this point they been in a tour situation where a company had booked their train tickets and hotels. Darjeeling was the first time that they were on their own.

Darjeeling roads

It was a good thing that they ran into me, because they may have slept through Darjeeling without me. But we all got off the train and took a jeep three hours up the mountain into Darjeeling. It was the most beautiful ride. There were little towns and houses spotting the way up, and there were the most amazing views. It was raining and cold, but after the heat of Varanasi, where it has not been less than 100 degrees in weeks, I loved it.

The jeep dropped us off in Darjeeling, and we found a hotel. By the time we had eaten lunch, our first real meal of the day, it was about 4:00pm. We took a long walk around the town, and every time we went around the curve we were presented with another breathtaking sight. We were at cloud level, and it was absolutely amazing.

Darjeeling

As it was getting dark we headed back to the hotel to shower, but that we put on hold as we started talking for about an hour and a half. The girls are so British, and they have had such interesting experiences we have a lot to talk about, though we only just met each other, After a late dinner in the only place in town open past 9 we headed back to the rooms and within minutes we were all asleep.

It seems as though I have partners for the next few days, so I am not quite travelling alone yet. This trip has already surprised me, both in terms of the way other can treat you and in terms of what I am capable of when I am forced to take care of myself. The next few weeks should be interesting, and I will keep you all posted.

Riding Elephants In Assi

Saturday April 6^th, 10:26 pm

       As I was heading to the program house today I ran into Danielle, Nitish and Sundar Ji and I stopped to chat. Danielle is doing her felid work on the Mahavets (elephant trainers) of Varanasi, and she told me that a Mahavet friend of hers and his elephants were right around the corner. They were going to get samosas for everybody and they would meet me there in a few minutes. I immediately stopped going to the program house and ran to where the elephants were. I managed to tell the Mahavet that I was Danielle’s friend in broken Hindi, and then went to watch the elephants hang out under they trees while their trainers painted their trunks with chalk to get them ready for the religious procession that they were going to.

 

            They were the most beautiful creatures, and way more interesting up close than they are in the zoo. When Danielle and Nititsh got back from getting somosas Danielle was given the honor of “painting the elephant” or adding her own chalk design to the trunk. I got to pet it and could not have been happier. However, when we were right about to leave Nitish asked the Mahavet if I could ride the elephant and amazingly he said "yes"!

            It took a few minutes for the trainers to get the elephant to sit down so I could scramble to the top, and then they told me to hold on to the two ropes that were on his back. Because these elephants are not for tourists, and the people who ride them are all experts they did not explain to me why I had to hold on to the ropes, so I did not hold on very tightly. All of a sudden the elephant stood.

            Elephants are huge, so standing up takes a long time, and at one point the rider is parallel to the ground 10 feet in the air, with nothing keeping them up but the ropes on the back of the elephant. The same ropes that I was not holding tightly. Luckily I was able to grab hold before I fell, but it felt like a roller coaster that had no safety precautions.

            When the elephant was standing all the way up I was in the trees and felt on top of the world. The elephant barley noticed I was there, for men sleep on his back all day long, but I could not have been more aware of the huge creature under me. It was very steady when it was eating, but every time it took a step I found myself grabbing onto the ropes. The slum kids who had come to play were amazed, and the Mahavets were all entertained by my clear awe and delight. I sat on the elephant as it ate and walked around for about 15 minutes before Danielle and Nitish had to go, so I had to get down.

            With the elephant standing I held onto the two ropes and slid down the tail, which apparently is not how you are supposed to get down from an elephant. The Mahavets ran to help me, and with their assistance I was finally back on the ground.

Getting to ride an elephant the way the professionals do was one of the most unique experiences I have had in India thus far. I got to meet Mahavets, which are a dying breed of animal trainer, and to top it all off the elephant I rode was the same one that the King of Varanasi rides when he is in a procession.

Sliding down the tail

The day just got better because tonight Alex and I went to professor Ojha’s house for dinner. It was so nice to see him, and his family was amazing. His wife is an elementary school teacher who is getting a masters in Gender Studies and hates the inequality in India, in addition to raising two amazing kids and being a wonderful cook. His son was a sweet thirteen year old, and the 10 year old girl gave us a kutuk (Indian fold dance style) performance that was the best I have seen so far. We played Geography like my family used to do when we were little and these two kids were amazing. They spoke English almost fluently, and the entire night was a prime example of a happy, modern, Indian family. It was lovely.

Things I learned about elephants:

• Not all elephants have tusks. Those with tusks are a special breed, which are unofficially called “tuskers”.
• Elephants live to be 120 years old.
• Elephant skin is very rough. So is elephant hair.
• There are kings in Varanasi that have the same role as the Queen of England, and even though the palace is falling down and there is no money to fix it, the king still owns elephants.
• When you get on an elephant you must stand on its feet and climb up, because even laying down it is taller than any human being, not to mention one that is miniature size, like me.
• You can decorate elephants skin with sidewalk chalk and it does not bother them
• An elephant penis is kept up when not in use, but when the elephant needs to pee it falls down about three feet and there is a stream probably five inches in diameter. They poop from right under their tail, meaning the poop had to fall down over 10 feet before it hits the ground, causing the huge puddle of pee to splash.
• When male elephants are in heat they excrete straight testosterone from a point above their eye causing them to be very aggressive. (I rode the one that was not in heat).

The Adventures of White Girls: The Journey to Agra

Sunday March 31, 5:49 pm

A few months ago Tania, Alex, and I decided that we would take our Easter weekend and go to Agra to see the Taj Mahal. None of us could really fit it into our traveling schedule, but it is only a 12 hour train ride from Varanasi, and we could not justify coming to India without seeing it. We chose the weekend, chose the destination, and bought the tickets at least a month ago. That is when our troubles began.

We told the travel agent that we wanted to take the overnight train there Thursday night, and the Friday night train back. However, when we told him what we wanted the train office was already closed for the night, so the travel agent told us to come pick them up the next day. We agreed, but the three of us had to bring our passports and go together to pick them up, and we just could not get our acts together. India has totally killed our sense of urgency, and it was tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. Finally about a week ago Tania passes the travel agent, and he tells us that if we do not come to pick them up in the next 24 hours he is going to have to give our tickets away. By some magic we managed to get to the travel agent, passports in hand, and pick up the tickets. All was well.

Until….

We assumed we were fine, and just had to get on the train, but in class this Tuesday, the day before the city shut down for Holi, I happened to mention to my history teacher that we were going to Agra to see the Taj on Friday. “That’s wonderful” She exclaimed, “but the Taj is a Muslim holy sight, and it is closed for communal prayer every Friday.” WHAT? For a month we had been trying to get these tickets, and now we were not going to see the Taj? We rush to the travel agent and had to re-buy train tickets back in for Saturday, committing to spend a night in Agra. For a while we were stressed out, but in the end all was well.

Until…

We are comfortably on the train, snacks in hand, having overcome Tania losing the train tickets in her room, and then thinking she forgot her passport. We have settled into our seats and the train has left the station and the men next to us politely asked “So, what are you three doing in Calcutta?”

“Oh, we are not going to Calcutta” I say, “We are going to Agra”

“That’s wonderful,” he says “But this train is going south to Calcutta and Agra is to the north.”

 We had somehow gotten on the wrong train. When everybody else on the train had confirmed what the man had said we more or less freaked out. We hopped off the train at the next exit, a rural place that does not see much tourist action, and get an auto back to the Varanasi Train Station, where we ran to the tourist booth. We hurriedly told the man what we had done and without even blinking an eye or looking at a chart he told us that there was a 6:40 train to one station way from Agra and we could take a bus from there. Great, but it s currently 7:05. On the other hand, it is India, so the train would not be arriving for five minutes. Tainia and Alex went to go try and return our original tickets, and a guard took me to where I needed to go to get new ones.

This turned out to be behind the ticket counter. I walked in, and found myself facing the backs of the ticket sellers who were selling to people on the other side of the glass. An older man noticed me first and asked me what I need. I showed him the paper where the train number was written down, and he handed in to someone one else. While we were waiting we started chatting, and I told him I was a Math Student. “How does two a two make five?” Asked the man. I shrugged and told him I did not know. “It doesn’t, except when you are asleep in India. Then it does. Cause nothing makes sense at night here.” I smiled politely, but let me tell you, if this was a novel that would have been definite foreshadowing.

I was informed that after two hours before a train is scheduled to leave the stations stops selling tickets to everything but General Class, to which they never stop selling tickets. Everyone is just supposed to stuff their way in. It is almost as if the El or Subway had overnight trains. You get whatever space you can get, and that was it. However, once you got on the train if you had money you could upgrade your class by talking to the conductor. All we had to do was find a train official and we would get beds in Sleeper Class, which we had initially planned on travelling in. I got the tickets and after the sprint that would make the hallways of ETHS proud we managed to find our train compartment. All was well.

Until…

We jumped into the train as it was starting to leave the train station, and turn around to 30 Indian men starting at us. Three white girls in general class. This does not happen.

 Under this scrutiny we walked through the car on the search for a conductor, but none was to be been. We ended up in the back end of the last car in the train, and we were faced with a choice. Do we go and find a conductor, and attempt to find beds, though we will be separated, do we stay in general class and try to find seats and not be able to sit together, or do we huddle on the dirty metal floor behind the last row of seats, where at least we would be together and there was a wall between us and the men’s eyes.

On the floor of general class

Because we were not sure where to find a conductor, and we certainly did not want to sit alone we decided to stay on the floor next to the doors, and away from the men. A nice man who had been sitting there before respectfully left even though it was the coolest part of the compartment, and warned us that men sometimes tried to jump on the train without a ticket, so under no circumstances were we supposed to open the door. Slightly freaked out we nodded and sat down. The floor smelled like pee and looked even worse, but at least there was a breeze from the window in the door, and we were together.

By that time we were exhausted from all the excitement, and we could not believe where we were. With the help of the snacks we brought along and a general sense of adventure we decided to make the best of it. We took the attitude that on the whole this situation was hilarious. It is a select group of foreign women who have ridden in general class, on the floor no less, and with a laugh we joined the club.

Princess Alex and the peasants
sleeping on the floor

For a few hours we laughed and talked, but when it was time to go to bed we were in another predicament. How were the three of us going to sleep in this cramped spot while keeping out stuff safe? We tried a few positions out, but in the end Princess Alex ended up being able to lay complete out, while Tania and I huddled under sheets with cold wind blowing on us from the windows in the doors that could not be shut. Alex and Tania managed to go in and out of sleep, and while I did not sleep I was not totally uncomfortable. The car lights were still on, but the car was quite and peaceful. All was relatively well.

Until…

About two in the morning we stop at a major station and the first major influx of people come into the car. Everyone starts jockeying for seats, and a fight breaks out. It almost came towards us, but the man who had told us about train jumpers managed to stop them, saying no one could go back there because there were foreign ladies. It was scary, but after a minute everything died down, and the car was once again calm.

An hour later the nice man woke us to tell us that he had to get off the train, but our stop was the next major one. We thanked him and he was gone. We got up, organized our stuff, and at the next stop, under the directions of the other men in the car, got off the train. We headed out to look for the bus that would take us to Agra, and all was well.

Until…

It was four in the morning, so no buses were running. We did not really know where we were, but we were clearly not getting to Agra before sunrise. There was a bus tour of Russian people who we followed for a while, but they said they were going someplace different, and they did not really seem to understand India away. However, some of the orderlies who were helping them told us that the buses started running at 7am. Knowing that we were safer waiting for the bus at the train station then taking an auto into Agra when we did not have a hotel reservation we headed into a chaii stand, to wait for three hours. We entertained ourselves with discussions of the pace of Indian modernization, Alex’s secret Dungeons and Dragons history, and my pathetic ability to make 185 jokes. (We all know how bad I am at those in general, but at this point I was out of practice and sleep deprived, but they were too so they thought I was funny.) The chaii stand people liked us, and we had a generally good few hours.

At 6:30 we got on an auto that took us to the bus stop, where we found the bus that took us to Agra. Another auto drive later, we had finally made it. We found a hotel, managed to bargain the room down to half the offered price, and settled in for a nap. By this time it was 8:00am, and we were willing to put off our adventures for sleep.

As a way to deal with the situation we made good and bad lists on the train. We kept them up through out the rest of the trip, but here is the first installment.

Things that went wrong on the way to Agra

Taj is closed of Fridays

Travel agent almost gives away tickets

Travel agent cannot read military time and tells us the wrong time for our train. Good thing I can

Tania forgets she has the train tickets

Tania thinks she forgets her passport

We get on a train to Calcutta

We try to get off on the wrong side of the train

Auto driver tries to get 400 rupees from us. Alex chooses to sit on her backpack

We go to the wrong part of the train station

We buy tickets for a train whose scheduled departure time has already passed.

Tania had to budge Indian men in line

We cannot find the track

Walk in the wrong direction on the train making us sprint back to…

GENERAL CLASS
We have to sit on the floor being undressed by Indian eyes

The chocolate bars were expired

Tania forgets a sheet to sleep on

The floor smells like pee

We don’t know how to say the train station name

Things that went right on the way to Agra

• We finally get on a train to Agra
• We have our health
• Tania knows where her passport is
• Snickers bars are delicious            
• Wal-Mart brand raisins: Also yummy
• Nice men on both trains
• Helpful men at train stations
• Floors are dry. It is no longer raining
• Figured out we were headed to Calcutta before we got to Calcutta.
• Train does not feel like jail
• Our outfits look coordinated, with a black and maroon theme
• Not SO many bugs or SOO many people
• No extraneous mammals
• Shira gets to use her raincoat
• Tania does not have a migraine
• Alex told a funny poop story
• HILARITY
• Alex finds 5 Rupees: cool gold coin
• Shira finds extra hand sanitizer in purse
• Cookies