India, day 11... when Vicki learns that train travel isn't always romantic
Our wonderful final day in Udaipur ends with an evening ride to the train station. Our tuk tuk driver gleefully exclaims “like helicopter!” every time we fly over a bump, but not everyone is feeling the glee. We have a 16 hour overnight train ride ahead, from Udaipur to Mumbai, give or take an hour or two ("it is the Indian railways," we're told).My first (and last?) overnight train ride
I'm excited by the prospect of a new experience, but admittedly a little nervous. Two members of our group have flown ahead: they experienced overnight train travel in Vietnam and said once was enough. I’ve heard stories about waking up to find strange men stroking your feet, theft in the dark, and filthy toilets, thanks to a jostling train, squat toilets, and diarrhea. (One thing I've learned on this trip: someone always has diarrhea. Often that someone is me.)The train station is crowded, and the boarding process feels chaotic. The train itself is... well, it's not the Orient Express. There is much laughter as we negotiate with a grumpy man who doesn't speak English and won't leave our seating area, and even more as we awkwardly clamber into our bunks. I sleep on and off, cramped and uncomfortable on the hard bed, my backpack strapped to my belly for safety. I survive the night, but this is no longer fun.
Chai chai chai... and slums
We eat our packed breakfasts—delicious paranthas, boiled eggs and muffins courtesy of our cooking class hosts in Udaipur—and buy tiny cups of sweet chai from the man who wanders back and forth along the train, chanting "chai chai chai." Our conversation revolves around the foods we're starting to crave after 10 days in India: a bowl of cereal, a slice of pizza. We're heading to the Taj Mahal Palace Hotel in Mumbai for high tea later today and all I can think is: I hope they have those little sandwiches. I miss sandwiches.We have six hours to go (give or take). Boredom quickly sets in. We pass affluent-looking towns with squat flat-roofed buildings, lush green fields rimmed by palm tees, then shanty towns that go on for miles. The pattern repeats over and over.
I am astonished by the sheer number of slums we pass, hugging the edge of the railway tracks. I am horrified to learn that the toilets on the train (now that's an experience I hope to forget) empty directly onto those tracks. I am relieved when we finally arrive, and feel guilty that I can choose never to do this again. The experience leaves me feeling sad and drained; how can this be normal life for so many people?
High tea at the Taj Mahal Palace Hotel
We check into our modest hotel, and head over to the not-so-modest Taj Mahal Palace Hotel. There are swarms of local and international tourists outside the hotel and nearby Gateway of India, and swarms of touts feeding off the tourists.
We pass through airport-like security (the consequence of a terrorist bombing in 2008) and into a serene otherworld. I feel under-dressed and out of place; I spy Louis Vuitton luggage, Chanel handbags and red-soled shoes that clearly aren't Laboutin knockoffs.
After 10 days of curries and breads, everyone is thrilled by the display at afternoon tea, which is both beautiful and delicious. I eat several tiny sandwiches (yay!), but also an array of Indian foods, a made-to-order omelet, and too many cakes.
A bittersweet experience
Over-indulging at the Taj, it's hard to believe that 12 hours ago we were drinking 10 rupee chai on a shitty train, passing slum after slum; the disparity between that life and this one makes the experience a little bittersweet. I can't shake an uncomfortable feeling.My friends are keen to explore Mumbai by night but I've had enough for one day: enough people, enough food, enough raw emotion. I'm exhausted, physically and emotionally. I head to bed early, and hope tomorrow brings more smiles.