Freedom has started today! No more driver, no more tight schedules, just a rough plan and a map of possibilities connected by a packed Indian railway system. This is how we wanted to travel in the first place and somehow followed a detour instead.
Departing in the evening from Udaipur we had a 16h journey ahead of us, with transfer in Ahmedabad at 4am. We zigzagged through pedestrian overpasses and platforms packed with people to the brim, passed beggars and kids yelling something in our direction when we didn’t’ give them 10 rupees, finally arriving at our 2AC Tier coach. Relieved, we found our reserved berths and sprayed a cloud of mosquito repellant around us, causing some very curious looks. After two very intense weeks of unforgettable experiences and colorful impressions, Rajasthan was staying behind.
Three hours of waiting for the connecting train on crowded Ahmedabad platform passed quickly as we chased one chai with another and exchanged travel trips and know-how’s with a guy from Belgium. We also shared a mutual relief of being overcharged for a private driver. Like us, Tom never intended to hire one, is an independent traveler by heart, always goes with public means of transportation, and never joins organized and pre-planned trips. Unfortunately, like us, he was exhausted in Delhi and looking for a quick way out. And so we dwelled on our stupidity and sneaky smarts of IDNC for a while but had to snap out of it quickly, otherwise the rest of out travels would be tainted with perpetual regrets and disappointments preventing experiencing new places with open minds. You travel, you learn.
Mumbai surprised us in a positive way. It’s fair to say we really had no expectations from this city, and yet we hoped it wouldn’t be another Delhi. It had all the typical commotion of an Indian city, temples on wheels pulled by cows, people, traffic and congestion - yes - but was somehow less chaotic, more manageable, cleaner and spacious. Most importantly, a mob of rickshaw and taxi drivers wasn’t following us around from the minute we stepped off the train and nobody was getting in our face with whatever they had to sell. Perhaps we’ve acquired a certain look about us that just screams “Back off! Not falling for your scams anymore.” Or maybe we’re really shabby looking by now and not worthy their precious energy.
The cab shared with a fellow traveler dropped us off at the Victoria Terminus and off we went in search of a one-night-home. As always, we walked in circles for a while before we found what was right in front of us in the first place and, once settled in room with 5 foot ceilings, went in search of much needed food. Scent of incense, marigolds, and fried snacks was mixing with fresh print of next-day newspapers from surrounding shops, infusing our hunger which by now was making us delusional. After 16 hour train ride survived on bananas, bunt cakes, nutella and water, we were in heaven spooning sambar onto yet another dosa at the cheapest neighborhood place we could find and feeding two for under $0.50.
Best thing about the room? Breakfast at Shivala next door.
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