Running to trains and planes is becoming a common theme for Dan and me. It started in Kochi, enroute to the airport to catch our flight to Delhi. We opted to catch the bus to the airport which apparently would take 90 minutes. We were cutting it pretty close leaving at 9.45am for a 12.20pm flight.
I was a wreck the whole ride, checking my watch every 2 minutes. We kept stopping to let more and more people on (the bus stopping at signed stops only is suggested, not enforced). Dodging bikes, cows, cars through the narrow streets with 100s of sweaty people while running late for a plane, is nerve racking stuff.
When we got to the airport at 11.35am the bus driver couldn't pull up at the departures area due to construction, so out we popped, running true "Amazing Race" style.
When we checked in with 2 minutes to spare they told us our flight was delayed by an hour. I hate when that happens!
But that wasn't even the best part. Our flight ended up getting cancelled so we were put on an even later flight! Least we got some cardio in!
The next dash was actually in Delhi. We were only there 1 night and catching the train to Agra at noon the next day so Dan had booked us in at a homestay he found online that could pick us up from the airport. Little did we know until we arrived and saw the house that we were in the Upper East Side of Delhi. We were staying at 'the Colonel's ' mansion, equipped with maids, cooks and a driver.
The guy totally gave us the willies.
We had dinner with him and a couple of 'other people' in the dining room (we have no idea who the people were (was one his wife? The other a former colleague?) the conversation was awkward and lost in translation). We also had breakfast the next morning with him and this time 'the doctor'. The doctor I actually liked - we chatted about the healthcare system in India (I had read a timely article on the plane) and of course about cricket :)
Dan had asked the Colonel at dinner if it was possible to get a car to take us to the train in the morning for our noon departure, and shown him which train station it left from in Delhi. No problem we are told. Dan mentions it again at breakfast (the Colonel doesn't like to speak to me, the woman, much), and he says no problem.
By 11am and we're still waiting in the hall. Dan roams the house and finds 'the wife' (a different woman from the night before, but her air of sad resignation made Dan think this was really her). Dan's told the Colonel is "taking his bath", and he'll organize the car when he gets out in 5 minutes. By this time we're pretty pissed, but the best is when he gets out of the bath 20 minutes later, looks again at the train ticket, and says 'oh you are leaving from that train station, you better hurry, you probably won't make your train'.
Fucking seriously?
Luckily the driver was a rockstar. We arrived at the station right on noon, ran to platform, and jumped on the train.
The train stayed in the station for an extra 30 minutes before departing! We were just happy we made it!
So, after two close calls we decided to give ourselves more time in case of traffic or creepy Colonel's. That brings me to today's tale.
We had a 5 o-clock train booked out of Varanasi to take us up to Gorakhpur.
Rather than hang around Varanarsi all day, we got a tuk tuk driver to take us up to Sarnath, one of the four Buddhist pilgrimage sights. Sarnath is where the Budda is said to have given his first sermon after having reached enlightenment. It really was quite peaceful and I wish we'd had more than a few hours there.
We strolled the gardens where the stupas sit and the remains of the monasteries. We went to the museums housing various relics depicting the Budda and his teachings, and went to the different temples built by various nations - the Japanese and Tibetan ones were my favorites. We even saw some monks at the Tibetan temple.
By this time rain had started to fall lightly. First rain we have seen in our whole trip. We remarked about this to our driver. We just smiled and nodded naively when he replied something to the effect of lots of rain in Varanasi had just fallen (a mere 15 km away).
We left at 2pm to go back to Varanasi to collect our bags. Plenty of time to get to the train.
Tuk tuks are designed for maximum air flow. They have a plastic roof to protect from the sun and no doors, just open.
As soon as we leave Sarnath the thunder cracks and the heavens open up. Oh rain. You mean monsoon?
Well, at least maybe the rainfall would wash all the shit out of the streets and clean things up a right, right? Wrong. In order for that to happen, Varanasi would need something we now realize we take woefully for granted - a drainage system. What happens here instead is that all those countless turds we had so carefully stepped over when walking the streets now get mixed and mashed, whipped and blended, into a singularly putrid concoction that fills any portion of road not at a steep enough angle.
Dan and I both hold pieces of (hardly waterproof) material over the open air doors to try block the rain and splashes from other vehicles. I have my legs up. This isn't regular water. It's vari-nasti water. Rain water mixed in with the shit that lays the streets. This isn't looking good. Surprisingly though, the traffic isn't too bad. Then we see why. People are wading knee deep up ahead in vari-nasti water.
Phew, the driver makes a swerve and we duck down a narrow street to avoid it.
It continues like this for a while.
Dan and i look at each other, the driver looks at us in the mirrors. We all bobble our heads. We all know it can't go on much longer. We have to go through.
In she goes, all four wheels, the floor and the exhaust submerged. I'm really trying not to think about what happens if we get stuck. I will have to swim in shit. I will have to swim in shit.
I will not have to swim in shit. Our hero driver makes it through! Oh wait, we are still kilometers from where are bags are. Who's up for more boating in a tuk-tuk?
We make it back to our bags and back on the tuk tuk at 4pm. It's only 3.5km to the station. Easy right?
The rain has stopped, every motor owner, bicycle rider, wheel barrow owner, walker, cow, pig, dog and donkey has to be somewhere now the rain has stopped.
Our hero driver will not let the traffic gridlock make us miss our train. No, we will drive through the deepest, muddiest, shittest, most back route paths to get there. And get there we do.
Now, onboard the train I type this, with only a few hours left of our six hour journey, dreaming of a shower and promising we will leave earlier next time in case of traffic, creepy Colonels or shitty water floods.
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