Chasing elusive tigers and slow moving trains, pt. 2
Saturday, December 10
At the appointed hour, we clamored to the top tier of a sleeper car, and slept the entire way to Jaipur. Our first visit to Jaipur was tons of fun, and I looked forward to enjoying the Pink City's majestic insanity for a few hours, beginning with the thousands of people crowding around the train platforms, waiting to board, hauling trash, or crossing the tracks. As predictable as a train station should be, with all sorts of computerized lists and timetables, it's actually quite chaotic and unpredictable. I never expected to stand on the platform and, while mulling over lunch plans, see the only person we knew in Jaipur step out of the wild crowd. And there he was, the nattily dressed Ali, our tour guide from Jaipur 1. As surprised as we were at the meeting, he quickly offered to take us to lunch. "I know a very nice place close by."
Now, when a guy in the tourist biz in India "knows a very nice place," it's often owned by his cousin, friend, uncle, or brother who will cut them a commission for bringing by tourists. Ali had been known to try this gig before, so we made clear that we needed lunch, nothing else, preferably some place nearby. "I understand. American close-by. Not Indian close by," he said. "American close by, 1-2 km. Indian close by, 5-10 km."
The spot Ali took us to allowed a few moments of peace on a lovely roof-top restaurant. Three weeks prior, on my first visit to Jaipur, the city seemed so mysterious, so mythical, and yet still India. I gazed at the tops of apartment buildings, strings of laundry, and the mountains...on the right. For a moment, I felt incredibly calm, aware of how many things were going on around me, and yet not intimidated by any one of them. Gradually, the events of the morning were allowing me to feel prepared for any craziness.
Like fighting to board our 2 pm train back to Delhi. Delhi is home to 15 million people, and probably half are from some place else, or just pass through to some place else. Obviously the train was packed and the guys in front of me were taking a while to board. I stood near the door and waited for them to board. Unlike the ticket counter, I couldn't elbow my way through. Further, we didn't have reserved tickets and weren't guaranteed a seat. I just waited...
Until I heard Angela yelling at me to get on. What was the rush? The guys in front of me were still...in front of me and I couldn't move. Oh, but the train was moving. Slowly, the hulking beast of a train was pulling out of Jaipur, and I was standing on the platform.
"Rhonda, get on!"
"Move!" I yelled at the guys blocking the entrance. "Get the hell off, cause I'm getting on!" I grabbed my bags with one hand, the grimy handle with the other and propelled myself into the train. For a few moments I hung between the steps and the thin air, nothing but the ground to save me, and it was the most exciting moment of our trip. We've seen lots of people casually hopping on and off trains, but my American sensibility never allowed me to enjoy the feat until Indian crowds forced the situation. I erupted into loud laughs and leaned outside to take photos.
I saw a lone guy sitting on the rails smoking a cigarette, and a second running atop the cars. Angela continued to shriek until I assured her all of me was fully on board.
We moved onward. Rajasthan, that sliver along our railway line, was beautiful. Women in bright colored saris bent over green grass, guys on motorbikes rolled along and reminded me of the "Motorcycle Diaries." When we passed through towns, there was always a crowd of cars, bikes, and motorbikes waiting patiently to cross, yet also seeming to want to board. Slowing through one stop, I saw a group of boys, they saw me and yelled "American! Hello!" I clicked their photo.
And the hours rolled on. Conductors on the train never announce the arriving train stations, so we relied on the degree of activity on the platforms to determine Whether we were in New Delhi. When substantial chaos was present, we hopped off, and knocked everyone out of the way. Again, an acceptable manner of passing through a crowd. It was 8:45 pm. Plenty of time to get ready for what we rushed back to Delhi to do: go to the hottest nightclub in the city, Elevate.
At the appointed hour, we clamored to the top tier of a sleeper car, and slept the entire way to Jaipur. Our first visit to Jaipur was tons of fun, and I looked forward to enjoying the Pink City's majestic insanity for a few hours, beginning with the thousands of people crowding around the train platforms, waiting to board, hauling trash, or crossing the tracks. As predictable as a train station should be, with all sorts of computerized lists and timetables, it's actually quite chaotic and unpredictable. I never expected to stand on the platform and, while mulling over lunch plans, see the only person we knew in Jaipur step out of the wild crowd. And there he was, the nattily dressed Ali, our tour guide from Jaipur 1. As surprised as we were at the meeting, he quickly offered to take us to lunch. "I know a very nice place close by."
Now, when a guy in the tourist biz in India "knows a very nice place," it's often owned by his cousin, friend, uncle, or brother who will cut them a commission for bringing by tourists. Ali had been known to try this gig before, so we made clear that we needed lunch, nothing else, preferably some place nearby. "I understand. American close-by. Not Indian close by," he said. "American close by, 1-2 km. Indian close by, 5-10 km."
The spot Ali took us to allowed a few moments of peace on a lovely roof-top restaurant. Three weeks prior, on my first visit to Jaipur, the city seemed so mysterious, so mythical, and yet still India. I gazed at the tops of apartment buildings, strings of laundry, and the mountains...on the right. For a moment, I felt incredibly calm, aware of how many things were going on around me, and yet not intimidated by any one of them. Gradually, the events of the morning were allowing me to feel prepared for any craziness.
Like fighting to board our 2 pm train back to Delhi. Delhi is home to 15 million people, and probably half are from some place else, or just pass through to some place else. Obviously the train was packed and the guys in front of me were taking a while to board. I stood near the door and waited for them to board. Unlike the ticket counter, I couldn't elbow my way through. Further, we didn't have reserved tickets and weren't guaranteed a seat. I just waited...
Until I heard Angela yelling at me to get on. What was the rush? The guys in front of me were still...in front of me and I couldn't move. Oh, but the train was moving. Slowly, the hulking beast of a train was pulling out of Jaipur, and I was standing on the platform.
"Rhonda, get on!"
"Move!" I yelled at the guys blocking the entrance. "Get the hell off, cause I'm getting on!" I grabbed my bags with one hand, the grimy handle with the other and propelled myself into the train. For a few moments I hung between the steps and the thin air, nothing but the ground to save me, and it was the most exciting moment of our trip. We've seen lots of people casually hopping on and off trains, but my American sensibility never allowed me to enjoy the feat until Indian crowds forced the situation. I erupted into loud laughs and leaned outside to take photos.
I saw a lone guy sitting on the rails smoking a cigarette, and a second running atop the cars. Angela continued to shriek until I assured her all of me was fully on board.
We moved onward. Rajasthan, that sliver along our railway line, was beautiful. Women in bright colored saris bent over green grass, guys on motorbikes rolled along and reminded me of the "Motorcycle Diaries." When we passed through towns, there was always a crowd of cars, bikes, and motorbikes waiting patiently to cross, yet also seeming to want to board. Slowing through one stop, I saw a group of boys, they saw me and yelled "American! Hello!" I clicked their photo.
And the hours rolled on. Conductors on the train never announce the arriving train stations, so we relied on the degree of activity on the platforms to determine Whether we were in New Delhi. When substantial chaos was present, we hopped off, and knocked everyone out of the way. Again, an acceptable manner of passing through a crowd. It was 8:45 pm. Plenty of time to get ready for what we rushed back to Delhi to do: go to the hottest nightclub in the city, Elevate.
posted by Rhonda Henderson at 4:02 AM
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