Train to Madurai

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We left on the train to Madurai in the evening. We packed what we actually needed, which it seems is a fraction of all the stuff we actually brought, and piled into the bus, and off at the nearby train station. We had all been so thoroughly warned about bag-slashers, pick-pockets and all manner of thieves, it seemed like everyone was preparing to see the "real India." In reality, it was not a big deal. We even got to rest in an A/C room before the train arrived. This kind of separation from what the average person experiences actually frustrates me a lot. Yes, A/C is nice. But we are already Americans, and when I look to the Indian side, I feel like they are judging the rich Americans for parading around in their country with money and demands and a sense of entitlement. And when I look to the American side, I feel like everyone feels they are enduring a terrible misfortune because someone has a bug bite and someone can't buy a cold soda. If people want everything to be easy and comfortable, what business do they have coming to a third world country?

Our group was broken into three groups on different train cars. Ours was the only with no separating curtains, which I actually liked because if somebody is coming, you see them coming from a long way away. It was a triple bunk, and the middle bed folded down during daylight hours, to be the seat back of the passengers sitting on the bottom bunk.

I find that I have much more patience with something like a lack of facilities, than I do with people complaining about things that are not such a big deal. Cockroaches coming out of the cracks in the wall? They are tiny. I just killed them with my slipper. This is India, so shut up and deal with it. You can't expect 5 star accomadation to follow you like a protective capsule everywhere you go.

In the middle of the night, when I had to go to the bathroom, I wrestled with the idea because I didn't want to wake the person below me. Finally, I jumped down and went to the next car, where the bathroom is. Squat toilets on a moving train are a fun challenge. Figuring out how to flush them is even more fun. But when I was walking back to my own car, I paused to look out of the open doors at the landscape. The doors are either ajar or wide open during the whole ride, and when I say open, I mean there is nothing keeping you from jumping or falling out. No protective bars or chains.

The train had slowed a bit, so I peeked out cautiously, and then took hold of the yellow handles on either side of the door and leaned out to feel the wind and take a whiff of non-city night air. I saw people on the ground running toward the train. In the 3am darkness, it was difficult to see them, and I started to think I had imagined it all.

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