Grand Voyages, Great Lies

Sat here on my balcony looking at my view of Bhopal. power lines, a pile of red brick, white church, hotel signs, boys in uniform with back packs on their way to school,(the school uniforms here are fairly cute, old fashioned pinafore, shorts and breaches- some in tartan) a man pushing a wooden cart full of vegetables and noisy rickshaw drivers, in-fact noise in general overzealous bus drivers trigger happy with their horns. I’m accompanied by the marmite I found in Palolem and BROWN bread which i managed to buy last night…I was beginning to think it didnt existed except in posh vegan restaurants. 

Before more about Bhopal let me enlighten you about our journey to the city from Vagator Goa. After catching 3 local buses to Margo station- an art we have now perfected i like to think we arrived successfully a good hour before our train. the buses as I said went smoothly apart from a local guy trying to get us on a bus with him- he told us it was going to the station but as we had quizzed the bus driver minutes before about the destination of his journey we realised this local guys was trying o take us with him where ever he was going….he found it rather funny…we were just hot and pissed off….but as I said we did indeed make it to the station.

We ate Indian tali and boarded what was to be the 27hr train ride from Goa to Bhopal. i was surprised to find the sleeper class quite spacious and comfortable. each carriage filled with 3 tiered bunk beds some of which folded away during the day to make seats. we had the other two tiered ones that ran length ways down the other side of the train…kinda hard to describe the layout but the good thing was that we didn’t have to climb too high or fold our beds away at all seeing as I had the bottom window bunk and only Kate was above,so we could do as we wished with our beds.

Most people opened the windows fully to cool off as the train pulled out of the station-for this we were very grateful. then que the never ending stream of chai, samosa and other food wallahs roaming up and down the train corridor. chai on tap- the small sweet spiced teas you can buy everywhere for 5 ruppes or less. this was an entertaining and fun part of the trip a hit of sugar and caffine when ever you needed pretty much and the chanting of   ‘Chai chai chaiaa chaiaa masala chai.’

After a small nap and getting used to our surroundings, mainly the food wallahs chain wallahs and chai men attributing to the constant noise in true Indian style we realised we were traveling at the most beautiful time of the day through the most beautiful breathtaking landscape. It must have been around 5pm buy this time and the sun was getting lower in the sky bouncing through the forested mountains which rewarded us with magnificent views of waterfalls, rivers and vast hill sides intricately embroidered with green trees. Beauty is not the word. but it is the first that comes to mind.

Its one thing hanging out of a moving train (for the carriage door could always be open) smoking a cigarette with your silk elephant shawl flapping around your shoulders and collar bones…but then its another thing altogether when you realise its suddenly dark now the glow from the sunset has finally diminished and you can see flashes of lighting illuminating patches of clouds that have rolled in to your distant view. Storms which must be miles away as no thunder is to be heard and there is no rain to see or feel. just sudden flashes of electricity exploding inside the clouds every minute or so. you can view these from your bed which luckily stretches across two windows but even though the land scape is moving in one direction you could be travelling south, west or skywards because of the change of direction snaking round corners so tight that you can see what you figure must be most of the train because it is so long. the direction has too changed many times, you fall asleep travelling head first in the direction the train is moving, you wake up and the direction has been reversed so now your feet will be first to reach your destination (unless direction is changed again)

Sleep is good…until the snoring begins, maybe its just all Indian men or maybe as we realised when we ventured to a quieter cabin of the train- we were unluckily placed amongst the heaviest snorers know to young British girls. honestly it was like symphony of snores, deep, high pitched, long throttling drones and crescendo-ing snorts. anything less then this orchestra would have been frustrating but this was simply hilarious. i felt like joining in. today- before our next train journey…we are buying ear plugs.

 The morning mists on the fields you shuttling past is equally as magnificent at the sun sets – sun sets that you can imagine are only possible in India. Ive yet to see any  sun down in Europe or Britain that rivals the large deep orange egg yolk waiting to be burst by a fork or bread solider. a red generously applied ink dot blotting, seeping through a little water on a cartridge page. some times the colour spreads intrusively into the surround sky and other times like an un-burst egg yolk the coloured circle simply swells not quite fighting its way out imprisonment of the sphere. I’m not a romantic type..but such views call for such a description.

This entry was posted on Friday, November 27th, 2009 at 9:42 am and is filed under india, Travel. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.