Let's just say that taking a train in India is nothing like doing it in Europe. One would think, given India boasts the second largest train system in the world, that the notion of traveling through the country by train would not seem too insane. I would venture to say it is.
For starters, forget about just showing up and getting a train ticket. You need one in advance. In their defense, there is a website where you can usually book a ticket. But we didn't know this and by the time we figured out that we wanted to take the overnight train from Agra to Varanasi, there were no seats to be sold. There was however, a town an hours drive from Agra that would put us at a town a thirty minute drive from Varanasi, and - bonus points - the ride was a full four hours shorter. Naturally the only tickets available were in first class for a whopping $35 each. We worked with the hotel to get our tickets, which only took two and a half hours longer than the 30 minutes they told us it would. Welcome to India.
We arrived at the station a half hour before our train was scheduled to depart. We showed people our tickets, and the pointed to Platform 3, where we sat to wait. Two other sets of foreign tourists assured us me were in the right place. Max told me to wait while he went to make sure.
"I have good news and bad news," he said. "Bad news first." Our train which was scheduled to depart at 11:30 pm, would be arriving at 1:15am. And the good news? "I'm fairly certain we are in the right place."
1:15am came and went. Announcements of arriving trains were indecipherable, but we were fairly sure we knew how to determine train numbers, and ours had not yet arrived. Two more hours passed. During that time we lied on our packs on the ground of the filthy platform, shooing away the rats, yes, rats, that occasionally ventured too close for comfort in search of food. I was also getting stared at, eaten by mosquitoes, and rained on. Good times.
Our train finally arrived at 3:30am and Max, in a hurry to get on, jumped on the nearest car, took our ticket, and told me to wait. There I stood, guarding our bags, looking skeptically at the packed, filthy, humid cars on either side of me. "This is going to be a long night," I thought. It already had been, was nearly four in the morning.
Max returned with someone who led us, at such a pace we couldn't help regularly bumping into sleeping passengers, to the last car. He gestured, upwards. Upwards? I was in no mood. Turns out there were cars behind us, but we would have to wait until the next stop until we could get off and get back on again. Lovely.
Fifteen minutes later we rushed to get off the train, hurried to catch up with the man showing us to our car, and then arrived in... our own private air conditioned room. Max beamed. I rolled my eyes. But I was relieved. Very relieved.
The rest of the ride was plesant. I slept, had tea, breakfast, read, relaxed, watched rural India roll by. What a contrast to the people sleeping on top of each other, on the floor, in the filth, of the cars ahead. Welcome to India.
For starters, forget about just showing up and getting a train ticket. You need one in advance. In their defense, there is a website where you can usually book a ticket. But we didn't know this and by the time we figured out that we wanted to take the overnight train from Agra to Varanasi, there were no seats to be sold. There was however, a town an hours drive from Agra that would put us at a town a thirty minute drive from Varanasi, and - bonus points - the ride was a full four hours shorter. Naturally the only tickets available were in first class for a whopping $35 each. We worked with the hotel to get our tickets, which only took two and a half hours longer than the 30 minutes they told us it would. Welcome to India.
We arrived at the station a half hour before our train was scheduled to depart. We showed people our tickets, and the pointed to Platform 3, where we sat to wait. Two other sets of foreign tourists assured us me were in the right place. Max told me to wait while he went to make sure.
"I have good news and bad news," he said. "Bad news first." Our train which was scheduled to depart at 11:30 pm, would be arriving at 1:15am. And the good news? "I'm fairly certain we are in the right place."
1:15am came and went. Announcements of arriving trains were indecipherable, but we were fairly sure we knew how to determine train numbers, and ours had not yet arrived. Two more hours passed. During that time we lied on our packs on the ground of the filthy platform, shooing away the rats, yes, rats, that occasionally ventured too close for comfort in search of food. I was also getting stared at, eaten by mosquitoes, and rained on. Good times.
Our train finally arrived at 3:30am and Max, in a hurry to get on, jumped on the nearest car, took our ticket, and told me to wait. There I stood, guarding our bags, looking skeptically at the packed, filthy, humid cars on either side of me. "This is going to be a long night," I thought. It already had been, was nearly four in the morning.
Max returned with someone who led us, at such a pace we couldn't help regularly bumping into sleeping passengers, to the last car. He gestured, upwards. Upwards? I was in no mood. Turns out there were cars behind us, but we would have to wait until the next stop until we could get off and get back on again. Lovely.
Fifteen minutes later we rushed to get off the train, hurried to catch up with the man showing us to our car, and then arrived in... our own private air conditioned room. Max beamed. I rolled my eyes. But I was relieved. Very relieved.
The rest of the ride was plesant. I slept, had tea, breakfast, read, relaxed, watched rural India roll by. What a contrast to the people sleeping on top of each other, on the floor, in the filth, of the cars ahead. Welcome to India.
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