The Low Point Of The Trip - Solo & Sick On Train

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  Kolkata (Calcutta), West Bengal, India
Saturday, April 18, 2009

This one is a little bit disturbing.

This entry tells of doing the ridiculous journey from South to North India that i did whilst ill, i wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy and would lash out on flights for this leg unless you are a hardcore trainspotter in which case you will be in orgasm heaven. This is really just a map pin marker entry because the last five days have gone by in a blurry feverish haze of taxis, flashes of scenery, scary faces, auto and cycle rickshaws, buses, dark spaces, trains, chai wallahs, nightmares, food vendors, sweaty skin, railway platforms, beggars, tossing and turning, flouro light tubes in the face, indian voices sounding like aliens, waiting time, morphed heads, humanity in it's rawest form, slipping in and out of consciousness, anonymous pharmaceuticals, a welted rash taking over all my skin, insanity and a bit of madness as i did the train dash from Chennai to Kolkata (Calcutta) then on to Varanasi where i was  forced to stop in my tracks and locate an English speaking doctor

the dreaded hairy caterpillar rash

. Next i did the border dash to the India / Nepal crossover town of Sunauli and went on to Kathmandu. In the words of the Grateful Dead, what a long strange trip it's been. Some very bizarre situations have occurred and this time has been the definite low point of 19 months on the road. When you are loving life you are seeing all the fascinating parts of India and her people, the mix of good and bad and you are high on top of the world, when you are ill all you see is the darkest parts and the filth, grime and extreme poverty seems amplified.

I'm going to quote some words from my favourite Dr Suess book 'Oh The Places You'll Go' again to describe the last few days, the book talks:

I'm sorry to say so but, sadly, it's true
and Hang-ups can happen to you.
You can get all hung up in a prickle-ly perch.  (my caterpillar rash)
And your gang will fly on.
 You'll be left in a Lurch.  (going solo without a travel partner)


You'll come down from the Lurch with an unpleasant bump.
And the chances are, then, that you'll be in a Slump.
And when you're in a Slump, you're not in for much fun. (feeling shit with a fever)
 Un-slumping yourself is not easily done

another bus interior

.

You will come to a place where the streets are not marked.
Some windows are lighted. But mostly they're darked. (general sleeper compartment)
 A place you could sprain both you elbow and chin!
Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in? (making decisions)
 
How much can you lose? How much can you win?
And IF you go in, should you turn left or right...
or right-and-three-quarters? Or, maybe, not quite?
Or go around back and sneak in from "behind?
Simple it's not, I'm afraid you will find,
for a mind-maker-upper to make up his mind.

You can get so confused that you'll start in to race
down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace and
grind on for miles across weirdish wild space,  (train from Chennai-Calcutta to Varanasi)
headed, I fear, toward a most useless place

sadhu hitching a ride in corridor

.
The Waiting Place... (waiting at train platforms and oversleeping the Varanasi station)

and these words too:

I'm afraid that some times
you'll play lonely games too.
Games you can't win
'cause you'll play against you.

All Alone!
Whether you like it or not,
Alone will be something
you'll be quite a lot.

And when you're alone, there's a very good chance
you'll meet things that scare you right out of your pants.
There are some, down the road between hither and yon,
that can scare you so much you won't want to go on.

But on you will go (keeping on going and staying strong)
though the weather be foul
On you will go
though your enemies prowl
On you will go
though the Hakken-Kraks howl
Onward up many
a frightening creek,
though your arms may get sore
and your sneakers may leak

Calcutta cabs

.

On and on you will hike
and I know you'll hike far
and face up to your problems
whatever they are"


The words in this book seem to ring true no matter where  you are or what part of your life journey you are on.

The rash from the hairy caterpillar poison had spread from my arm to the rest of my body including to my face, inside my mouth and the palms of my hands and soles of my feet. I was a red, spotty creature from another planet and was starting to get vague in the head. I made the decision to travel because the alternative was to have been lying in a dingy hotel staring at the ceiling, at least i would be on the road. I tried to explain an enlarged lymph node to a pharmacist and made the motions of punching myself in the back of the head to indicate pain. I managed to buy some kind of random antihistemine tablets and i was surprised to find some Egyptian style cortisone lotion i had bought in Cairo in my bare bones medical kit so it was a start

looking back slum city on calcutta fringe

.

I rang my mum and Nadia and had a cry then gathered up my pack and headed to the Mammalapuram bus station and got on the next bus out of shitville. It was quite a mission to get on the bus here because it was every Indian for themselves as they rushed towards it for 200 metres as it was coing into town and then bottlenecked the doors squeezing in and pushing each other around to get a seat. There was no chance for a white woman with a giant backpack and a nasty looking rash. Eventually i was on and stole the conductor's seat up front, i was in No-More-Mr-Nice-Guy-Mode and as it turned out it was the wrong bus anyway and it's last stop was south of Chennai, miles from the train station where i had to be. The bus crawled along the highway and took four hours instead of two meaning i made it close to Chennai with about half an hour to get my arse to the station for my Calcutta train.

I was flew off the bus and within thirty seconds flat had struck a deal with an autorickshaw driver who was touting for business. I told him that i'd pay him his full requested fare of 100rupees and that there would be an extra 50rupees in it for him if he got me to my train on time. A nice move i thought. I couldn't believe i was actually telling one of these guys to speed faster than they normally go. The guy was a champion with local knowledge and made a star performance to earn his extra rupees and i was a happy traveller and on my way to Calcutta.

Luckily i had scored the top upper berth in a general sleeper compartment that held a total of nine people in tiers of three beds. This way i can get myself up and out of the constant action below

early morning Calcutta train station taxi

. I chained my big backpack to the bottom berth and slept with my legs hooked into the straps on my daypack. In general class all kinds of people get on and off the train with beggars and sadhus also hitching rides throughout the night. The flouro lights aimed right into your skull are flicked on and off  all night and fans blast you on one high speed that it is impossible to adjust. The toilets are a toxic, feral mess of shit and wee and a hole that leads straight out onto the tracks below. It is hot as hell and there are cockroaches flying around. There's vendors cruising around the corridors selling things like belts, inflatable pillows, books, pre-packaged meals, idlies, faulty rubix cubes, faux designer wallets, gold bling plastic watches, boiled eggs with paprika, ice-cream, fruit, water, and random things like plastic machine guns and those jelly crystals that grow in water and support your house plants. There's also street urchin children, beggars with deformed limbs, chai wallahs yelling and police with bamboo sticks doing checks. It's a fun and games train parade of strange folk and freaky, weird characters all of whom seemed to love to stop at our compartment and stare at me for a few seconds before moving on.

Unfortunately for me, as a nice addition to the show a friend of Mr Prickly Rash named Mr Crazy Fever joined the hullabaloo of a circus and began to rage, heating my blood to the point where i thought i was going to pass out, quite a scary thing when you're alone on an Indian train. Luckily i had some good old paracetamol from Cairo that saved me. Every five hours or so i would wet my face then take all my clothes off in the privacy of the toilet then splash the calamine lotion all over my body and face that were already covered in sweat. A low point but i was sure the rash welts were disappearing slowly.

training it

The Doors lyrics- People Are Stange
People are strange when youre a stranger
Faces look ugly when youre alone
Women seem wicked when youre unwanted
Streets are uneven when youre down

33 hours later the train was at Howrah Station at and i saw an early morning glimpse of life in the city of Calcutta where nearly 15million people live together in a melting pot of a city covering 185sq km. For two hours I took company and had a whinge with a disgruntled traveller from Montreal, Canada who was also doing the dash to Nepal, he'd had enough of India. I took a pre-paid taxi  across Howrah Bridge that had a welcoming banner sign tied to it sponsored by a telephone company and it read 'Welcome To The City Of Joy'. It was ironic that the destitute had made their living space from cardboard boxes and plastic in the filth of squallid  ground underneath it. Some of the people were so dirty and emancipated that they seemed to be like chameleons blending into the piles of rubbish as they slept, defacated staggered around or lit little fires. Poorest of the poor.It was a heart breaking early morning journey across town.

Once at Calcutta station i realized i was in for a long wait on a sparse platform until my train left for Varanasi seven hours later. There was no food available there. About three hours in i met a lovely family from Mumbai who gave me the gift of a bag of tasty Indian snacks like semolina puffs, cookie dough sweets and spicy bhuja with rice flakes, they also showed me where to find a much needed shower, i was still very weak and exhausted at this point

platform time

. There was a television screen warning not to be too friendly with strangers or accept any gifts of food but the same screen was also playing a Vengaboys track on repeat and the family were legit. After a bucket shower in a cement trough and feeling the warmth of kindness from straangers, i felt my spirits raise up a little.

Eventually the wait was over and i boarded for Varanasi. The same train circus started all over again this time with more beggar action. One guy set up camp in the concertina folds between the carriages, a lady carried a dirty bundle of rags that hid her newborn baby and another duet walked by where one blind guy was carrying another guy who had  no legs on his shoulders collecting money. The surreal feverish nightmare continued for the next 15 hours. 

At this point i made a very bad mistake, i overslept the Varanasi station and was woken up very far away from it at what can only be described as a place that resembled what i believe the world would look like if the Earth blew up and a few lost people survived. This place was a colourless, sad, barren wasteland of dead, hungry souls wandering around aimlessly. It really was that bad. The way i was woken up was with a police man nudging me in the toe with the end of his rifle and barking at me in Hindi

platform

. After being shocked to my senses I showed him my tickets and asked him where was Varanasi to which he answered with a motion pointing his palm back towards where the train had come. About five of his buddies erupted in laughter. Bugger it. I had no idea how far i had overslept but assumed i was a long way from civilisation. Once i got off the train i noticed it was 3:45 in the morning and  i saw that there was a disused, long, old train filled with people sleeping on it and also the platform was filled with bodies wrapped in blankets and dirty rags and still in slumber. A muslim guy came over to tell me that it would be wise not to leave the platform until the sun came up and that it was a very dangerous place at night. He also told me to enjoy the colours of India. I asked about a taxi to which he replied there was none anywhere near this town nor a bus service. I was located in central bum shit whoop whoopville. The next train was due to come passed in three hours. I was dead tired, drowsy and a bit hazy in the head. On the positive side my rash was going and my fever was down. I laid my yoga mat out on the platform and dozed with the homeless. I couldn't allow myself to sleep in fear of being robbed, groped or attacked by Freddy Krueger. There was what looked like a dead body in a bag lying next to me but it was breathing and later in the morning it was unzipped and a guy with no legs emerged with a huge morning grin for me. You've got to love India.

When the sun came up a loud bell was rung and all the bodies including mine were moved off the platform

trackside

. People emerged from the old train community brushing their teeth and grooming themselves for the day, most were well dressed with ironed clothing and neat hair cuts, some carried bags as though they were commuting to work. There were lots of muslims there. It never ceases to amaze me how much pride the Indians have in the way they carry themselves and what they can pull off. I decided to check out the front of the station to see if i could locate a ride into a town with facilities but as soon as i took one step out a whole crew of zombie type people appeared and made a wall around me. The look was a jaw dropping What The F*$k are you doing here? They were looking at me in the stare bear state that communicated to me that they had never, ever seen a white person nor ever thought they would.in their lifetime. It was different to the usual shocked to see a foreigner look in that i was such an unexpected apparition to appear in this place. I think they were trying to work out if i was really there or if they were hallucinating. It felt like a horror movie as i took a couple of  reverse steps back away from them and then turned  and went straight back to the platform and waited. Four hours later a passenger train came through and i was squashed into the claustrophobic, general seating as the train crawled along for 3 hours back to Varanasi, distance unsure. Finally here was light at the end of the tunnel though and i hung in there.

For the first time in six months in India, the many horrendous sights and states of humanity that i saw on the journey and the illness i felt gave me a small dose of culture shock and i felt a little overwhelmed

train interior

. I needed some food, some sleep and some time to reflect in order for my brain to process what i had witnessed. My eyeballs were hanging out of my head and i wished i could've sketched myself in a cariacature. It felt like i had been through some kind of trauma and i guess it was. The saga was far from over though.

I took a cycle rickshaw to the Varanasi ghats and checked into Shanti Guesthouse where i ate a huge breakfast then slept for the day. The fever was up and down. I awoke and went to locate an English speaking doctor. He wasn't too much help but issued me some pills for fever and extra antihistemines, no news on the lymph node pain though. I was hoping it was all linked to the naughty hairy caterpillar. By the next morning i was feeling much better and decided to head towards the border and maybe even make the trance party. I tried to get a flight into Kathmandu but it was booked out and the trains that go to Gorakpur were well full too. The decision i made to continue on was maybe because i was delirious and pushing myself way too far or maybe i am just a sucker and didn't want to miss the psytrance party. Lessons were learned throughout the ordeal.

When i asked the cycle rickshaw guy to take me to the local bus stand for buses to Sunauli (the India / Nepal bodrer town) he took me to a three quarter-filled tourist bus that was leaving in exactly two minutes from when i saw it. I was in luck and made it on by the skin of my teeth and scored a double seat to myself for the 10 and a half hour journey. The driver was a crazy Arab looking guy wearing a head tea towel and drove like a maniac on already horrendous roads that were unpaved in parts and badly pot-holed. The trip was a dusty and dry, rattle your bones one with no fans or air con on board and it was too dusty to have the windows open

dawn outside train station

. The lunch stop place was smack bang in the middle of a classic one horse town set into a windswept desert looking landscape with a pile of human shit pretending to be a toilet out the back. I was very surprised to see some travellers ordering the gastro-intestinal suicide dish of chicken drumsticks. I very nearly fell off my chair, each to their own though hey!

Unfortunately the overall conditions were made worse by the comfort slut tourists on board who bitched, whinged and moaned at every possible chance. There was a pair of Russian princesses on board who made a huge scene and fools of themselves with four major freakouts about the bus fans, the driving, the roadside teastall stop choice and about the reclining seats of the passengers in front of them. There was even screaming matches at the driver while he was trying to drive, other passengers and each other that provided fabulous entertainment, foreigners behaving badly.

I knew the border was going to be a palava and wanted to get through the process as quickly as possible in order to make it onto the last bus leaving the border on the Nepalese side for the journey to Kathmandu. The rest of my bus had bought a package ticket so they had accommodation on the border overnight. A bed was looking very sweet at this point but i continued on. Touts were all over me as i walked the strip sepearting India from Nepal. I sat in a phone booth sized office and negotiated some currency changing transactions with a random bloke. I needed US$100 to buy a three month multiple entry visa to Nepal and some Nepalese rupees to get me started on the other side and i needed it fast. Being aware of scams on the border and knowing  the current conversion rates i pretended i knew what i was doing

trainspotting

. I had my calculator out and punched imaginary numbers into it while telling the guy i wanted to buy some hard US currency and that i would be very happy and respect him if he would sell to me at the correct rate and only take a small comission for himself. I also let him know i was in the market to buy Nepalese rupees too and i ended up with a good deal on both. I  stamped out of India then stamped in to Nepal. Stamp, stamp, ink,ink no problems. Too easy.

Next i found a bus company who were playing the fun, late night, last bus of theday game of  How Many Nepalese Folk Can We Fit Into A Mini-bus & Still Squeeze In A Crazy Foreigner Travelling On A Well Overpriced Ticket Game. I really should have stayed at the border, this was a suicide mission and a death wish road trip. I secured the seat second from the back and had my seat half reclined. The bus was falling apart and was ready for the graveyard, it had a very low ceiling and every time we hit a bump in the road everybody would hit their heads on the roof. No leg room whatsoever nor any women on the bus. The guy behind me was abusing me about the seat reclining and kept grabbing my head and pulling my hair all night. At one point the tyre underneath me blew out with a loud bang and it took a couple of moments before the driver had the bus under control. I'm not sure how long it took to change it as i drifted in and out of sleep. Another time i woke up on an empty bus parked in a traffic jam up, there had been people on strike blocking the roadways at various points with boulders and trees that had to be cleared. All the men were out of the bus ranting and shouting and rummaging around in the forest with torches, a scary moment for me in a new country. I'm very glad that darkness hid  the cliff drop-offs.

Eventually i made it to Kathmandu and checked in to the very comfortable Kathmandu Guest House in Thamel.

And so begins the Nepal adventure.

I was going to make it to the psytrance party in time.

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