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Trains, Buses, Feet, Trucks...Getting Around
Entry 177 of 309 | show all | print this entry |
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Fresh off the Blue Mountain Express, I'm compelled to write about transportation in India: how I get around. It's such an integral part of life here, as anywhere, but perhaps more so because of the sheer numbers of people that need to move from place to place.
The Blue Mountains Express is one of the ancient Swiss steam engine passenger trains, an achronism complete with sparks flying, smoke, and slow speeds that make the name Blue Mountain Express somewhat puzzling. As we descended one vertical mile on the cogs, young cabin mates cheered, yelled, and whistled as the train entered another tunnel. The boy in front of me bounced up and down in excitement. Children in nearby villages waved as the train made its once-daily pass downhill.
On the way, one of the wood bridges was smouldering from previous sparks. The train stopped and train staff put out the fire, saving the bridge. Along the way, burn scars marked previous small fires along the tracks.
The day before, I visited Doddabetta peak as the summer rainstorms arrived in full force, chilling at over 8,000 feet. Looking for rare endemic birds and orchids on the cliffsides of the Nilgiri mountains, I stayed under a small
tree in a shola clearing for four hours as the Nilgiri Laughingthrush and Nilgiri Wood Pigeon ate and rested nearby, feeding sometimes a few feet from me as I sat motionless in the rain.
To get there, I had taken a public bus to a junction, then shared a public rickshaw to the summit, 12 kilometers in all, for a cost of 16 rupees (about 30 cents). On the way down, I jumped in the back of a truck bed full of fresh corn on the cob along with a dozen other bone-chilled wet Indians. The driver smiled as I thanked him for the lift. From there, a ride in a truck-cum-taxi into town costed ten rupees.
In each major town and city, state transport (ST) long-distance bus stations, private bus stands, local bus stations, and railway stations make travel easy. At the local and long-distance bus stations, buses leave frequently, unless you're in a small rural town, where you might have to wait for several hours.
Once the bus arrives, you might have to stand. If you get a seat, your knees will grind into the seat in front--one of several disadvantages to being a taller westerner. Entering and exiting the bus takes patience, as most people bum rush the entrance and exit (the same door) at the same time, creating a jam where tensions flare. Buses are usually packed, sometimes with people riding on the roof. This is my prefered form of transportation, for many reasons including the convenience. Smokey would pull over one of these buses in no time flat in the US, citing dozens of violations, which are simply part of life in India.
Private buses, which have more leg room and reserved seating, are more expensive than the bargain ST buses. I think each bus company owns one Volvo in their fleet of dozens, just to say they have a Volvo bus. Private sleeper buses have beds on the second level and reclining seats on the lower level.
One of my most memorable moments was on a private bus. I was on the reclining seat below. Above me, a woman continually decorated my window with her vomit, for hours on end. Just as one decoration had dried into a crust in the wind, another shade slid down the glass.
Many buses have these characteristic decorations, sometimes perhaps layers thick during the dry season. The rainy season is the only time the buses are washed, I think, as India is purged and cleaned.
The ST bus conductor is always a character and has developed a commumication system with the driver, which I've tried to decode for you. Some hit the side of the bus with their palm. Some have a whistle. Some pull a string that rings a bell. No matter what implement they use, one hit or whistle or bell means stop. Two means go. A constant hitting or whisting or ringing means its okay to pass or backup. I still haven't figured out what they do if it's not okay; luckily that hasn't come up.
The conductor punches the rupee amount on a couple of tickets and hands them to you. They help you in all cases to get to where you need to go, waving at you when your stop approaches.
In the buses and trains, you meet all kinds of people, depending on which bus you take. On the ST buses and in General Unreserved Train Cabins you meet the sadhus, locals, and workers. In the sleepers, you meet the much talked about Indian middle class and can generally have a conversation with any of them. Once in a while, you also might meet a westerner. After many days without a western conversation, I tend to blabber a bit too much sometimes.
Some facts about the trains:
The reservation system works seamlessly and it's completely computerized.
The trains have both western and squat toilets. Both are used, even in the terminals, which often smell like urinals.
Sometimes the trains are hours late, but most of the time, they're punctual.
Sleeper cabins come as AC or non AC. Both are three berths: upper, middle, and lower.
I enjoy watching the scenery pass by as the train chugs on the tracks.
Most of all, I enjoy walking, though I haven't decided to walk the length of India yet. I just wore out my second pair of Indian sandals and am now on my third. This time, I bought the fancy 100 rupee pair, the "Papilon."
So what happened to the other pairs? Well, after my hiking boots were stolen in Bihar, I bought a pair on the roadside in Bodhgaya. This pair, after a couple of months of good use, is on the mountain in Girnar somewhere with a band of sadhus. I left there early in the morning before dawn and couldn't find them, so walked to the train station in my socks (by the way, Smartwool socks last about 600 days of punishing abuse). There, I picked up my backpack at the cloak room, got an unreserved ticket, and boarded the train, avoiding the luggies, cow shit, and betel and pan juice spat on the ground.
Once I arrived in Sasan Gir, I left the train in my socks and bought another pair of sandals at a local store (fifty rupees). Fitting is easy; it takes about one minute: "I'll take them."
Armed now with my black Papilon sandals freshly bought in a small village, I'm ready to go. These sandals give me a good ice breaker with the locals, who look down, surprised, and say: "Oh, Indian Sandals!" The traction of the Papilon sandals, I find, is as good as Vibram, though they don't last as long. Perhaps they're cheap, perhaps they're low tech, but they work.
So that's the low down summary on transportation in India: Papilon sandals, unreserved train tickets, truck beds, and ST buses...the way to travel India, Indian-style.
Latest Comments (1)
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Very Nice (reply)
Feb 5, 2008 02:10 EST by garvind
Enjoyed reading your down to earth descriptions of ground realities !! I am a regular visitor to the Nilgiris, always keen to discover endemic flora [orchids in particular] and fauna. I am Indian and live in grotty Mumbai -Bombay. I agree that the most comfortable Indian sandal is the Rs 50 -100 variety [depending whether you buy it in a big city or cheaper rural area] which can give any Woodla... show all
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| 177. | Trains, Buses, Feet, Trucks...Getting Around - Ooty, India Apr 20, 2007 (  7 ) (  1 ) |
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