Monday 20 February 2012

Thiruvananthapuram to Madurai


I arrived at the impressive colonial station For my first long haul train trip. I was a little early so did some local watching and drunk some chai. Various kids observed me, laughing to each other. Some came over to practice their English "how are you?" and would run off when asked in return. A grinning man came out of nowhere, shook my hand and said "welcome to India sir!" then walked off. The tracks are covered in litter and have a whiff of urine about them due to the train toilets emptying direct onto the tracks!

I'd booked into an AC 2 tier. These are air conditioned sleeper cabins, two bunks high. Four in one window (coming out from the window) then the other two running alongside the other window, with a passage in-between. In the daytime the bottom beds can converted to a seat, but it's yours to do what you want with. The top bunks have no window and would be an issue if disabled or clausterophobic! The aircon vents blow directly onto the top bunks but there are blankets, pillows and a sick bag provided! All bunks in the AC classes have curtains and are very comfortable. Even the regular sleeper 3 tier class is comfortable, if a little sticky and noisy. Only the bottom bunks have power sockets, although my UK adaptor kept falling out of it as the train was moving. Three Indian men, bemused by my tiny laptop, engineered a fine solution with a combination of gaffa tape and wedging the wire. If you have four things definite on your packing list make it gaffa tape and three Indian men.

The train left promptly at 16:20 and passed through many cute little villages, children waving at the train, litter fires burning at the side of the track. At Nagercoil Junction the train halted for an age. I later realised that the engine had moved around to the other end and we were pulling out of the station reverse. As the train set off I wished i'd grabbed a chai from a chaiwalla. Now heading east the scenery changes from steamy palms to lumpy hills and lakes. A town called Aralvaymoli looks fantastic as the sun sets.

It's now dark, the Indian men are loudly discussing chappathi's with the chappathi seller. I close the curtain and lie down in my cosy little area, smirking at how many times the word "chappathi" has been said in the last 20 minutes.

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