Cockroaches, mice, and Indian trains- oh my.

We got back from the South Indian tour two days ago in the morning, but before I post about that I wanted to give everyone a description of the train journey from Madurai to Villapuram that we took last night.  Our train was supposed to leave at 11pm, when we got to the train station after an exceptionally long dinner to prolong time spent in a restaurant rather than the station (where considerable amounts of fries, naan and beer were partaken of), Sunny Uncle (our program director who is amazing) realized that the person booked the wrong tickets for us… the train we were scheduled to be on left at 11am.  What to do? Get a spot on another train. Seems easy enough right? For those who have been in an Indian train station you will understand when I saw no, it was not easy. 

We had to go get 7 open seats (basically buy 7 more tickets) for the train we were supposed to take.  To do this Kara, Lauren and I got into the “Ladies Only” line, and with help from Sunny got the open tickets.  This involved lots of pushing, and talking to the baby the woman in front of us was holding.  These open seats are exactly what they sound like… you sit wherever is open.  Since information regarding the train number, platform number and departure time were not clear, Kara and I headed to the information desk.  A man who spoke heavily accented English helped us, but only after we had to ask him to repeat it several times.  We also were not used to others trying to physically push you in line to get closer- but we pushed back.  There is no private space in India- there isn’t enough room for it.

Weighed down with our clothes and purchases from the previous eight days we forced our way into a coach to find a train operator to see where some empty spots were.  There were none. He advised to wait for the next train, which was in 30 minutes.  It seemed like all of our problems were taken care of- we would get seats on the next train and sleep until our arrival in Villapuram.  Again, we were wrong.  We did get spots on the next train, but they weren’t “seats.” Lauren slept on the floor near the bathroom, I hung out in that area for a while before commandeering the end of a bench a woman was mostly not using for sleeping.  Leala was in the same position in another bench across from me with a sleeping mother and her young daughter.  Kara, Jackie, Chris and Sunny Luke were a car away- with only the bathrooms separating us.

This was one of the worst nights I have had in my life.  Being uncomfortable is not a fun thing, but it is do-able.  What got me was the state of the train.  This train was DIRTY.  Much dirtier than the previous one we rode to start the South India journey.  Not dirty as in dusty, dirty as in cockroaches crawling on the floors, walls, and benches, the constant smell of feces from the toilets whenever the train stopped moving, the mouse that lived in our car, and the constant hacking of two older gentlemen who might have needed medical treatment- and in India you don’t cover your mouth.

Around 4am, after a constant shifting of positions, mostly hunched over trying to avoid the middle bench (and at one point lying down next to the woman whose bench I was stealing- when you hit a certain point of exhaustion, you just don’t care), a family got off the train.  Lauren, Leala and I immediately overtook their spots.  I think I got about an hour of sleep.  I found that the longer the train travelled, the less I was worried about sleeping on a sheet on the bench, and the more I was worried about avoiding the various insects while trying to stifle the nausea I was experiencing because of the fecal smell. 

Though the train and some of its inhabitant were disgusting, in typical Indian fashion there were a few good souls who pointed out the empty beds, the woman who allowed me to sleep next to her (I wish I was in my right mind at the time to thank her more fully), and a man who made sure we knew when the next train to Pondicherry left  (we were taking a bus back, but he didn’t understand that).  I was struck by the overwhelming kindness of some of the Indian people- I think they have a more communal, “we’re all in this together” mentality.  In the US the focus of people is their own comfort, space, and privacy.

            The person I would most like to thank, however, is Dr. Prof. Sunny Uncle Luke  (a man of many names, mostly we just call him Sunny Luke).  A 60 year- old man made this journey with us with no complaints- and when things went wrong, though he was furious, he turned it into a learning opportunity for the Indian railway system for our group.  He has taken care of the six of us for the past two weeks, and on Wednesday he is, as he put, “cutting the umbilical cord!”  I don’t know what we’ll do without him- probably make a lot of mistakes and have many unanswered questions about Indian society and culture.  I would not have made it through the train journey, or South Indian tour without him.  Thank you Sunny Uncle.

The girls at dinner! R-L: Kara, Leala, Lauren, Jackie

Chris and I manning the other side of the table.

Train station nightmare.

How I put on this face I have no idea.