Chloroquine Dreams

Dan and I have found many ways to amuse ourselves over the past few days, mostly by talking nonsense and making rubbish puns. However, a new adventure presented itself on Wednesday - doing the laundry. Rather than spend a whole quid on getting it done properly, we thought we'd get some done before catching the train to Kochi. So, in the sink it all went with some washing powder followed by a quick rinse in the shower. Disaster struck when we discovered there wasn't enough space to hang everything on the piece of elasticated rope we'd strung up. Desperate situations call for desperate measures, but inspiration came and four pairs of pants were hung ceremoniously from the ceiling fan. Comedy ensued when this was accidentally switched on whilst looking for the light switch - cue the strains of Khachaturian's The Sabre Dance ...

We woke up to find them still dripping wet, a great disappointment that our engineering skills had failed. This was to set the tone for a day I will not soon forget (we had smugly thought that we'd avoided any sort of culture shock, and that actually travelling was pretty easy - that was about to be squeezed out of us ...)

We checked out of the hotel, dumping the shoes we wore over (hence the title), scoffing at the offer to call us a taxi to Talik Nagar station for 750 Rupees (ten quid). Why, we'd just get the train - we've been doing this all week and it's easy ! True, we'd have the bags with us but we'll splash out and go first class. Easy peasy !

The first problem is that there is no discernable difference between first and second class. I really mean that - none. The second is that by the time we'd got the packs on and down to Santa Cruz, it was rush hour. Doing anything with the bag on takes four times as long, but jumping onto crowded trains is right out. Somehow we forced our way on, to discover that it wasnt quite the right one, so we dived out at the next stop. The 'right' train arrived, but too far down the platform. We attempted to get in the second class carriage, but it was no easy feat, I mean real clawing your way in. In the scrum, Dan got pushed far into the carriage while I was still holding on to the outside as it pulled away (no doors on the carriage while it's this hot). My bag was already wedged in, so I had the awesome experience of holding on with one hand on the edge of an accelarating train. I thought I was going to fall out and under the train, but worse was to come when we pulled up at the next station and whole new stampede set in - this time there was no ambiguity, I was crushed right into the centre of the carriage and unable to move or do anything, having a hard time even breathing and at this point I really did not care if I got separated from my pack. I was trying to shout to Dan to see if he was on the train (I hadn't actually seen him), and thankfully he still was - much to the amusement of the locals who decided to take the piss and answer for him. I suppose it is quite risible - two English blokes freaking out over being on a train, but the sense of claustrophobia and panic was quite real. After a few aborted attempts we fell out at an unknown station (getting off is harder than getting on). Then we got a taxi.

We can look back on this now and laugh (seasoned with expletives).