5 Buses, 4 Trains and 2 Autorickshaws in 48 Hours

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After a month of peace and quiet, of cafes and momos, of Buddhism and English tutoring, it was time to leave McLoed Ganj and re-enter the "real India."

We hopped our first bus down to the bigger town of Daramshala from McLeod and began our epic journey. In the past 48 hours we have taken 5 buses, 4 trains and 2 auto rickshaws (like 3 wheeled scooters), all of which, disregarding the rickshaws, were local means of transportation and devoid of any westerners except for ourselves.

We took a second bus from Daramshala to Kangra and caught a rickshaw to the train station. We were dropped off at a no-name town and told to go down the street even too small for our rickshaw to the station. Down the road, over a fairly sturdy pedestrian suspension bridge and through a sleepy little enclave we found our quaint little stucco train station with a thatched roof and walled garden.

From here we took our fist toy train. Part of our reason for taking such a long and roundabout journey was so that we could travel through the winding hills of Himashal Pradesh on these antique trains at an average speed of 10mph. We are still not sure what the full requirements are to be called a toy train but we do know that there are only 20 left in the world, 5 are in India and 2 are in Himishal (also the home state of McLeod and Shimla). Kangra got us on the train in the middle of its route and our plan was to take it in whichever direction we could, knowing that we would probably have to go back to Kangra to move on to our next destination. But it was well worth it as we eased through the hills, enjoying sunlit farms and some of the 100+ bridges. Just after night fall and still 2 hours from the end of the track, the train stopped for a 2 hour dinner break in a tiny town not on our map, so Vince and I decided just to head back to Kangra since there was very little to see now that it was night.

From this point on our journey was successful for 2 reasons: 1 our willingness to take things as they came and 2 the kindness of strangers. We walked into the town and looked for where there were people standing around and acting like they were waiting for something. This was a bus stop (there are rarely any signs for buses and if they do exist, we would not be able to identify them because they would be written in Hindi). One man helped us catch a local bus to the "bus station" and from there we found a bus back to Kangra. We arrived in Kangra at 8:00 and managed to catch a bus to Shimla at 11pm-ish by running after it and waving it down (something we observed others doing on our other bus trips). We had seats in the very back and spent the night being literally lifted completely out of our seats, levitating for a few seconds, and then crashing down on top of each other as our driver pushed his ancient engine to its max, despite the fact that the roads look like they have not been paved since the British left India.

We arrived in Shimla just before 5 in the morning. India is a place that likes to sleep in and we knew that we could expect to be one of the very few awake until 9. This was also true in Shimla except a small group of very persistent men who tried to get us to go with them to whichever hotel had agreed to pay them commission for each customer they could bring in. In fact, we were asked about our accommodations and given recommendations even before we left the bus. We wandered away from the station and up a steep hill to find the city center, followed by one particularly persistent tout. We finally convinced him that we were not spending the night and we realized that even though his presence had been annoying, it might have been preferential to the creepy feelings that come with being the only two people awake in a strange place. We must have been communicating with the world because not one block later two friendly and playful dogs came up to us and preceded to lead us to the city center, running ahead and then looking back over their shoulders as they waited for us. They stayed with us until sunrise, entertaining us with their play fighting and then finally settling down for a nap under our bench.

Shimla at this time of year is mostly host to Indian tourists, some of whom we saw brave the cold air to run or play tennis beginning at 6am. Before the sun rose but after it began to get more light out, Vince and I decided to take the steep climb up to Jhaku Temple for the 33-meter tall statue of Hanuman, whose Monkey face and man's body could be seen over the tops of trees. The guide book warned us to carry a stick to fend off monkeys along the way. We had no stick to speak of and so it was to our great relief that less than 1/3 of the way up, a new dog came down from his spot on some house steps and led us all the rest of the way up to the temple. The monkeys stayed clear of her and she followed us around as we observed the morning ceremonies, watched the sun officially rise and circumnavigated the giant statue. The dog even walked the rest of the way down with us to return to her original spot on the steps.

It was 8 when we got into town and we wandered around trying to find any place that was open. By 9 we had had no luck and consulted our guide book, which pointed us to a small old-boys type place near by. The place was full of older men, no women, but we enjoyed our meal, chatted with other visitors and we did finally see some women sit down eventually.

We found our way to the train station to catch our second toy train and passed the time reading in the sun. We booked tickets all the way to Rishikesh and caught our train at about 2:30pm. The views were again spectacular but the journey was a true slice of India, presenting us with both its beauty and imperfections side by side. As the train filled up, two women of a very low caste came on the train and despite available seats, they sat of the floor. One drunk man seemed to make it is job to harass them, particularly the younger one. He even went as far as to lie down on the dirty floor and pretend to sleep so that he could let his hand innocently brush against the younger women's upper leg. She moved away and I kept pushing his hand back until he did actually fall asleep.

We arrived in Kalka at the end of the line by about 8pm and one particularly kind man walked around asking people about where we could find a train to Ambala so that we could switch to a train to Rishikesh. As we learned throughout the trip, the people who know best about what train goes where are not the conductors or even the men at the ticket counters but other passengers who are also going your way. We found a train and our kind stranger asked some of the passengers to make sure we got out at the right stop. I'm not sure if it is because we booked so only the day of or if we simply didn't know to ask, but our tickets put us in 2nd class, meaning that our car was full of benches and luggage racks that doubled as beds, but no seat assignments or limits to how many people could be in one car. Ours happened to be full of 14-20 year olds just coming back from a trip with the Indian version of the Boy Scouts. They crowded around us to grill us on our experience in India and its Pop culture, taught us survival Hindi (no swear words I'm surprised to say) and hassled Vince for taking 5 years to propose to me. We in turn helped them practice English, gave them plenty of opportunities to laugh at us and allowed ourselves to be subjected to a never ending barrage of photographs. They helped us get off at the right stop (there were actually 3 stations in Ambala) and a fellow traveler asked passengers at the station about when and where our next train would be. It was expected in at 2:30am and since it was only 11pm we rolled out our blankets on the platform and took turns sleeping, like many people around us.

At 2:30 we had not seen our train but by 3 it was there.

If we had thought our first non-toy train was a taste of true India, we were promptly corrected. Out of the 3 second class cars, 4 doors were blocked from the inside by people and luggage and the two open doors were blocked by people trying to squeeze there way in. One of the blocked doors was pushed open slightly and we jumped on the opportunity, as did several other people behind us, one of whom tried to pull me out so that he could get in and then proceeded to push me along as I did my best to find space to walk over the crowds of people spilling over the seats, taking up all of the luggage racks and pilling up in the walkways. One Sheikh gentleman took pity on us and made space for our bags and for us to sit on the floor.

Before the train continued on we had another glimpses into the true nature of India when 3 police pushed onto the train and began to harass our Sheikh friend. They pulled him up, patted him down and began to question him loudly about some luggage. It wasn't until Vince explain that the bag was ours that the police stopped. I'm not sure whether this was a routine inspection meant to keep the rabble in check, or if the fact that the bag belonged to a white couple really did make a difference, but the look on our new friend's face told me that this was nothing out of the ordinary. We enjoyed 2 uncomfortable but warm hours trying to get comfortable on the floor and Vince was privy to first hand experience with how comfortable Indian men are with other men being in their personal space. One station seemed to be the destination for most of the passengers and we were able to spread out on the now empty very cold benches. We finally arrived in Rishikesh at 8 in the morning, caught a Rickshaw to our Hotel and ate our first real meal since the previous morning while we waited for our room to be ready.

Despite our long and sleepless journey, we managed not to take a nap but wander the city a bit. We did however go to sleep by 9:30 for me an 10:30 for Vince. Today we woke up by 9, did laundry and, at 3:30, we have yet to leave the hotel. Good way to recover!

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