Train From Hospet to Varanasi
This is an exact quote from my diary: "On the first day, god created the earth. On the second day, I got on this train...that's it. I'm still here." I did not fully consider exactly what a train ride from Hampi to Varanasi would be like, but now I DEFINITELY know. I would not advise it.
I got on the train and it was 6 hours to my first destination in Londa. The adorable women beside me didn't speak any english, but when they pulled out their food, they started handing it out to me and the guys sitting beside me. It was whole wheat chapati with spicy pickle and this sweet crummy thing that tasted like crumbled muffins. The pickle was insanely hot. I was actually dying.
I had a two hour wait in Londa before I had to catch my next train. These two Indian girls came up to me while I was sitting on the bench and said, "May we know you?" It was a strange question that I wasn't sure how to respond to, but I invited them to sit down and we started talking. One girl was 16 and the other was 11 and they were extremely shy, but the absolute cutest girls ever. They sat with me for about an hour and a half and we shared stories about life in Canada and India. While we were talking, some guys that were sitting on the bench behind us started playing music on their phones and singing. The girls started laughing and I asked them what was so funny. "They are flirting" they said. "WHAT!? How?" I asked. "Playing music and singing. That is flirting. If our parents saw us sitting here, we would get in trouble." "So what are you supposed to do?" I asked. They told me that they were supposed to walk away. WOW. If all a woman in India has to do to flirt is not leave, no wonder they seem to have such twisted views of what means a woman in interested. By talking to them, they probably think we are practically ready to get married. I offerred them some chai, but apparently the girls aren't allowed to drink chai until they are 20...and I though a 19-year-old drinking age was bad. It always amazes me how aware and unhappy the girls seem to be about how restricted their lives are. I think globalization and education will have a major impact on India. It will be a different world in a generation or two.
My next stop was Itarsi and I got out to get some dinner at a nearby restaurant. I felt completely disgusting already after so much time on the train, but apparently the men of Itarsi did not agree. It was literally the worst staring I have ever experienced in my life. You would have thought I forgot to put my shirt on or tucked my skirt into my underwear or something. Every time I think that I have figured out how to handle India, I end up in a place like that, and at a complete loss for how to handle myself. Part of me just wanted to scream at them all and tell them how disgusting they were, but I knew that an embarassing outburst wasn't going to all-of-a-sudden change India. In those times in India where I feel so powerless, I try to remember Marcus Aurelius who said that ultimately, the only thing you have control over is yourself. I decided that my death stares were the one small satisfaction I would allow myself and I walked back to the train station, hidden under my scarf, trying my hardest to ignore all of the men of Itarsi.
Back on the train, I found a pile of crap on the floor, underneath the sink, right next to the toilet. Like how is that easier? You were so close. Aren't you embarassed when the next person walks in?
Another 15 hours on a sweaty and cramped train that smells like pee. So pumped.
That night, I found myself in the most cramped train I have ever seen. You literally couldn't go to the washroom without waking up/stepping on about 20 people. They were 2-3 to a bed, piled up on the floor in the aisles, jammed in every corner and every available space. There would be two men cuddled on top of a suit case and tiny children's eyes peeking out of the shadows in between the cars. It was actual insanity. There must have been about 20 people in our 8 bed compartment and only 2 of them were women. To make matters worse, a bunch of them weren't sleeping and were just hoovering around and occassionally sitting on the end of my bed. Needless to say I didn't sleep much. I lay there cuddling my swiss army knife and practicing opening and closing it. I felt I was being paranoid because I didn't get any bad vibes from them, but the whole situation just seemed so strange. Why were there so many people?
I managed to get what I think was the answer when I was talking to one of the men the next day. I still don't completely understand how the train system and wait list works, but I slowly started to realize that I think I was supposed to be one of those people sleeping in the aisle. I had a number on my ticket, but I guess that didn't mean anything because it said "reservation slip" instead of "blank paper ticket". Their reaction did seem weird when I pointed out my bed the day before, but the man said "ok, no problem" so I assumed that it was my bed. I didn't think that meant, "Ok, no problem. You can have our bed, and we will not sleep." I actually can't believe how sweet that was.
A few hours away from Varanasi, I was starting to really lose my mind. I hadn't showered, gotten a decent night's sleep, or been within eye shot of less than 10 people in three days. It was about 40 degrees outside and unbearably hot and the train just kept stopping: for 30 minutes/an hour at a time. My ipod had died, I was too tired to read, and there was no breeze or scenery to keep me from losing my mind with boredom; and it just seemed like it was never going to end. We were about 2 hours behind schedule, still with no end in sight and they had stopped bringing water around.
We were over 3 hours late, but we were nearing Varanasi and I felt that I would finally make it. I didn't care how dirty or hot I was; I would soon be out of the train! Suddenly, I felt something drip onto my arm. I looked behind me and saw all of this pink stuff dripping down the wall onto my seat. My friend beside me started yelling at the guy in the top bunk and they got a cloth and started wiping the puddles of pink liquid that were all over my head and back. When they finally got it cleaned up, I asked my neighbour what it was. "Pan" he said, which is the stuff they chew that makes all of their teeth look brown. "So that was spit" I said. "Yes." I immediately began hysterically and uncontrollably laughing... this is happening.
This is an exact quote from my diary: "On the first day, god created the earth. On the second day, I got on this train...that's it. I'm still here." I did not fully consider exactly what a train ride from Hampi to Varanasi would be like, but now I DEFINITELY know. I would not advise it.
I got on the train and it was 6 hours to my first destination in Londa. The adorable women beside me didn't speak any english, but when they pulled out their food, they started handing it out to me and the guys sitting beside me. It was whole wheat chapati with spicy pickle and this sweet crummy thing that tasted like crumbled muffins. The pickle was insanely hot. I was actually dying.
I had a two hour wait in Londa before I had to catch my next train. These two Indian girls came up to me while I was sitting on the bench and said, "May we know you?" It was a strange question that I wasn't sure how to respond to, but I invited them to sit down and we started talking. One girl was 16 and the other was 11 and they were extremely shy, but the absolute cutest girls ever. They sat with me for about an hour and a half and we shared stories about life in Canada and India. While we were talking, some guys that were sitting on the bench behind us started playing music on their phones and singing. The girls started laughing and I asked them what was so funny. "They are flirting" they said. "WHAT!? How?" I asked. "Playing music and singing. That is flirting. If our parents saw us sitting here, we would get in trouble." "So what are you supposed to do?" I asked. They told me that they were supposed to walk away. WOW. If all a woman in India has to do to flirt is not leave, no wonder they seem to have such twisted views of what means a woman in interested. By talking to them, they probably think we are practically ready to get married. I offerred them some chai, but apparently the girls aren't allowed to drink chai until they are 20...and I though a 19-year-old drinking age was bad. It always amazes me how aware and unhappy the girls seem to be about how restricted their lives are. I think globalization and education will have a major impact on India. It will be a different world in a generation or two.
My next stop was Itarsi and I got out to get some dinner at a nearby restaurant. I felt completely disgusting already after so much time on the train, but apparently the men of Itarsi did not agree. It was literally the worst staring I have ever experienced in my life. You would have thought I forgot to put my shirt on or tucked my skirt into my underwear or something. Every time I think that I have figured out how to handle India, I end up in a place like that, and at a complete loss for how to handle myself. Part of me just wanted to scream at them all and tell them how disgusting they were, but I knew that an embarassing outburst wasn't going to all-of-a-sudden change India. In those times in India where I feel so powerless, I try to remember Marcus Aurelius who said that ultimately, the only thing you have control over is yourself. I decided that my death stares were the one small satisfaction I would allow myself and I walked back to the train station, hidden under my scarf, trying my hardest to ignore all of the men of Itarsi.
Back on the train, I found a pile of crap on the floor, underneath the sink, right next to the toilet. Like how is that easier? You were so close. Aren't you embarassed when the next person walks in?
Another 15 hours on a sweaty and cramped train that smells like pee. So pumped.
That night, I found myself in the most cramped train I have ever seen. You literally couldn't go to the washroom without waking up/stepping on about 20 people. They were 2-3 to a bed, piled up on the floor in the aisles, jammed in every corner and every available space. There would be two men cuddled on top of a suit case and tiny children's eyes peeking out of the shadows in between the cars. It was actual insanity. There must have been about 20 people in our 8 bed compartment and only 2 of them were women. To make matters worse, a bunch of them weren't sleeping and were just hoovering around and occassionally sitting on the end of my bed. Needless to say I didn't sleep much. I lay there cuddling my swiss army knife and practicing opening and closing it. I felt I was being paranoid because I didn't get any bad vibes from them, but the whole situation just seemed so strange. Why were there so many people?
I managed to get what I think was the answer when I was talking to one of the men the next day. I still don't completely understand how the train system and wait list works, but I slowly started to realize that I think I was supposed to be one of those people sleeping in the aisle. I had a number on my ticket, but I guess that didn't mean anything because it said "reservation slip" instead of "blank paper ticket". Their reaction did seem weird when I pointed out my bed the day before, but the man said "ok, no problem" so I assumed that it was my bed. I didn't think that meant, "Ok, no problem. You can have our bed, and we will not sleep." I actually can't believe how sweet that was.
A few hours away from Varanasi, I was starting to really lose my mind. I hadn't showered, gotten a decent night's sleep, or been within eye shot of less than 10 people in three days. It was about 40 degrees outside and unbearably hot and the train just kept stopping: for 30 minutes/an hour at a time. My ipod had died, I was too tired to read, and there was no breeze or scenery to keep me from losing my mind with boredom; and it just seemed like it was never going to end. We were about 2 hours behind schedule, still with no end in sight and they had stopped bringing water around.
We were over 3 hours late, but we were nearing Varanasi and I felt that I would finally make it. I didn't care how dirty or hot I was; I would soon be out of the train! Suddenly, I felt something drip onto my arm. I looked behind me and saw all of this pink stuff dripping down the wall onto my seat. My friend beside me started yelling at the guy in the top bunk and they got a cloth and started wiping the puddles of pink liquid that were all over my head and back. When they finally got it cleaned up, I asked my neighbour what it was. "Pan" he said, which is the stuff they chew that makes all of their teeth look brown. "So that was spit" I said. "Yes." I immediately began hysterically and uncontrollably laughing... this is happening.
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