I caught the train from Jodpur to Mumbai - a nice twenty hour journey, this time in three tier AC because there were no seats left in sleeper class when I booked the ticket (over a week ago). There were 64 middle class Indian teenagers from an international school in Mumbai in the carriage. They had been on a school trip and all chatted excitedly in Indian flavoured English.
I arrived in Bandra station in Mumbai, bought a ticket to Victoria terminus and caught the local train, which had a special compartment for senior citizens (not that anyone took any notice of this). Victoria terminus (or CST) is a glorious relic of the British Raj, with ornate pillars and arches, curlicues and statues. I left my luggage in the left luggage, which involved putting it through a scanner and getting a police stamp and locking it, and headed off into the streets of Bombay. I was surprised to find myself in a street full of people and virtually no traffic. I decided to go to Cafe Universal, an art deco cafe, and ended up spending the rest of the day chatting with a German couple who were the most well-travelled people I have ever met.
The cafe was delightful, the beer flowed, the food was delicious and at ten o'clock in the evening I retrieved my luggage and boarded the train to Madgao, this time sharing a compartment with two French sisters, a Czech man, a Norwegian woman and a woman from Kyrgistan. This was a mere twelve hour journey. There were more food vendors on this train than I have ever come across. They were selling samosas, omlettes, sandwiches, masala dosas, upama, chicci (nuts and sugar made into bars), chocolate, biriani, and of course chai wallas and coffee wallas every two minutes. This went on incessantly until at least midnight, when the bunks went up and everyone who had a booked seat lay down. We ended up with three people sleeping on the narrow floor space between the two tiers of bunks and the people sleeping on the lower bunks had several people sitting on the ends of their bunks. The rest of the people with tickets but no booked seats ended up sleeping in the corridor. In the morning the procession of food and chai wallas stepped carefully over the sleeping bodies as they made their way along the corridors from about eight am, when no one was the slightest bit interested in food or drink.
I'm now in Benelin in south Goa, staying in a little house next to a bar in a palm tree forest. I walked through the forest today and came to a beautiful lush green swamp, surrounded by tall coconut palms. Eventually I came to the beach and a nice beach cafe that was full of huge fat Russians. There are so many Russians here that some of the signs are written in Russian.
I arrived in Bandra station in Mumbai, bought a ticket to Victoria terminus and caught the local train, which had a special compartment for senior citizens (not that anyone took any notice of this). Victoria terminus (or CST) is a glorious relic of the British Raj, with ornate pillars and arches, curlicues and statues. I left my luggage in the left luggage, which involved putting it through a scanner and getting a police stamp and locking it, and headed off into the streets of Bombay. I was surprised to find myself in a street full of people and virtually no traffic. I decided to go to Cafe Universal, an art deco cafe, and ended up spending the rest of the day chatting with a German couple who were the most well-travelled people I have ever met.
The cafe was delightful, the beer flowed, the food was delicious and at ten o'clock in the evening I retrieved my luggage and boarded the train to Madgao, this time sharing a compartment with two French sisters, a Czech man, a Norwegian woman and a woman from Kyrgistan. This was a mere twelve hour journey. There were more food vendors on this train than I have ever come across. They were selling samosas, omlettes, sandwiches, masala dosas, upama, chicci (nuts and sugar made into bars), chocolate, biriani, and of course chai wallas and coffee wallas every two minutes. This went on incessantly until at least midnight, when the bunks went up and everyone who had a booked seat lay down. We ended up with three people sleeping on the narrow floor space between the two tiers of bunks and the people sleeping on the lower bunks had several people sitting on the ends of their bunks. The rest of the people with tickets but no booked seats ended up sleeping in the corridor. In the morning the procession of food and chai wallas stepped carefully over the sleeping bodies as they made their way along the corridors from about eight am, when no one was the slightest bit interested in food or drink.
I'm now in Benelin in south Goa, staying in a little house next to a bar in a palm tree forest. I walked through the forest today and came to a beautiful lush green swamp, surrounded by tall coconut palms. Eventually I came to the beach and a nice beach cafe that was full of huge fat Russians. There are so many Russians here that some of the signs are written in Russian.
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