February 27th to March 7th; Part 1 ~ The Sleeper Train

This has been an absolutely insane week-and-a-half. I'm going to try and get, in as much detail, what has happened on the train, at the conference, after the conference, and even the less-interesting things that have happened since I got back to Delhi. Alright, here goes:

How I Got My Mobile Phone

I have my new mobile phone (which I didn't want to buy, but couldn't get my way), which I got at the last minute from a nice guy named Anurag, who works at the E-Market mobile store. This is the best kind of mobile store, where flexibility is more important than corporate integrity. For those Torontonians, think of an Indian Pacific Mall. Anyways, I wanted my Blackberry unlocked (which BTW, I will never be without again), but this was the night before and there was just no time. Suffice to say, that was a pretty chaotic evening which involved me running around Vasant Vihar like a crazed foreigner, jumping over VSO compound walls, panting and asking people who don't speak English questions in English - to which, not surprisingly, they responded to in Hindi. A fun evening, for sure. Point is; I got the cell phone.

Waiting at the Station

So we're (we being Mutya, Peggy, Debbie and Myself) at the train station and I, not knowing where I would be staying once I got back from Goa, have brought ALL of my belongings - which weighed approximately 1100 pounds. Oh, and this this was a sleeper train we'd be getting on to, for 30 hours. Already I was winded from carrying all that shit. And the train was two hours late. I did have the pleasure of watching a 5-foot-nothin'-tall man, who weighed a-hundred-and-nothin' pounds lift and carry my suitcase on his head. Much later, on the return flight, I would discover that the suitcase weighed close to 30 kilograms - so that was impressive. Also memorable around this time, was watching 95-pound Mutya (that's right, not even a hundred-and-nothin') be almost swept away by a mob of Delhians trying to get on to the general admission car. Fortunately my luggage was partially in their way - which provided an effective wall.

30 Hours of Sheer... Train Ride

Due to some prompting from Mutya, Tom and Peg at was decided previously that I should fly back to Delhi. This way, I would arrive in time for my placement (to begin on the 4th of March - or so I thought) and not have to do the 30-hour ride again. Suresh (who works at the VSO office) provided the train ticket at the best possible price, which, though Rs. 500 higher than what was online, was still a steal relative to Canadian prices.

After hauling the luggage on and cramming it under that seat, we all slept awhile. Upon awaking, I got to know the girls better as we sat and chatted in the partially-vacant section near the front of the car - much to the chagrin of an elderly Indian couple, who were too polite to tell the loud and abrasive Westerners to shut the fuck up and let them sleep.

Anyways, this is a lot of text, so here's some more pictures:

The Players

This is Deb. She is from York, England. Her voice reminds of Ringo Star's (though I'm sure she would slap me if she read that). Deb is very outgoing and personable. She definitely made the trip go by a lot faster. That and her laptop full of obnoxious Western music that we all enjoyed heartily. Some of the Indian passengers seemed genuinely annoyed, but I got the feeling this was a way for the girls to assert themselves as Westerners. They've all been abroad for some time, and the assertion may have been cathartic. So whoopee. I feel this photograph sums Deb up well. She enjoys the little things and has a great outlook on life. Also, an adventurers' spirit.


This is Mutya. Fortunately for her, I'm talking about the figure on the left. Mutya is a Delhi-based volunteer with whom I will eventually be sharing a flat with. For somebody who has never set foot outside of Asia, her English is near perfect. Much, much better than that of some Canadians I know. I had an photo of her 'scratching' her nose, but she insisted that I delete it. For sure, Mutya is full of surprises.

For those interested, the figure on the right is the waiter/caterer for the car. He's close to six foot tall and sleeps in the 'drawer' visible just above Mutya's head. I now realise that this is reflective of a low-caste lifestyle here in India. He provided surprisingly little food for a waiter (by which I mean none). But he was extremely polite to us throughout the trip - though he did open the drawer and scare the crap out of me at least once.

This is Peggy. In case you're wondering, Peggy got to ride the train in the First Class car - complete with live bands, marble flooring and banisters.

Peggy - or Peg, as some the volunteers oddly call her - has been volunteering/travelling for some time now. She may very well be the most well-travelled person I have met here to date, having explored much of Asia in addition to her home Scotland. Though pretty even-keeled most of the time, Peg can, when necessary, leap into action. Stationed at one of the stopover stations somewhere along the way, I was saved from being stranded by Peg when the train started moving. Good thing she yelled or I would have never been able to muster up the .025km/hour speed necessary to clamber on - and would never have had the pleasure of having an entire trainload of Indians laughing at me. Thanks Peg. You saved me.

Peg , also based in Delhi, has been very supportive throughout. Except for the time she 'accidentally' locked me in the guest house at VSO headquarters. I think that room must have been used as prison quarters at some time, as you can lock someone inside with the simple flip of a latch. [clears throat] ahem.. initiation. Joke or not, I would have paid money to have watched from the outside as I freed myself using dirty kitchen utensils. "Why didn't you just call the office and have someone let you out"? she says. That's right Peggy, just keep on laughing. [cracks knuckles]


This is some guy I was chatting with in the front-of-car area pictured in Mutya's picture and where the waiter would later scare the bejesus out of me. I can't remember his name. I think it might have been Rajath or something like that. He mentioned he sold bricks. The other guy wouldn't speak to me only utter things in Hindi to his friend, at which point both of them would laugh. Originally enticed by my digital camera, Rajath and I had quite an interesting conversation about caste, marriage, and the promiscuity of westerners. I'm not sure what he got out of the conversation, but after an hour or so, I got this:

- The caste system is similar to the class system. Except in that you can't buy your way into a better caste.

- Inter-caste marriages are deeply frowned upon. You risk being disowned.

- Indian men (or at least these two) believe westerners (men and women) live a near-pornographic lifestyle. When I told him I was free to date black, oriental or middle-eastern women back home, he just about fell out of his seat.

- A delicious pakora meal. I didn't tell the girls as we were all pretty hungry, but Rajath knew the waiter - who promptly came out of his drawer and produced several pakora plates - warm as if freshly made. I didn't ask where they came from.

Right After That Happened...

Actually, this might have been before... it feels like it's been a year since all of this happened. To the left is pictured what is known as an Indian or Eastern toilet. Recommended by my car mates, I decided to give it a try. Interesting to note, is that on the inside, there is a turnable latch (not too much unlike the one Peg used to incarcerate me, as previously mentioned), which gives the illusion of locking the Eastern toilet from the inside. Well, it doesn't - as I, and an unfortunate Indian woman, soon discovered with surprise and horror, respectively. Worst part is, I was standing up - so she got the Full Monty, so to speak. I felt more embarrassed for her than myself. Especially given my recent conversation with the brick guy regarding Indian... sexual modesty. So, I'm a perv - just so you know.

Goa

As we drew closer to our destination, the climate started to really heat up. I can honestly say this is the hottest weather I have ever experienced (getting close to 40 degrees C). This a picture of the landscape. You can't see the palm trees here, but you'll see plenty in future posts. We got picked up at the station without further complications and next thing I knew I was in a near-tropical paradise.

There will be much, much more, but I'm hungry.