Catching the train

The plane landed at 3:05 in the afternoon, Delhi time. Great! Half an hour extra to arrive on time to the train station.

Our optimism was unfounded. The visitors with e-visa have to wait for a special immigration process. The queues don’t look specially long, but the process is really slow.

Forty-five minutes later (16:00) we pick up the backpack, go through customs and get out of the airport. We already saw it from the airplane, but Delhi’s pollution is impressive. A white blanket covers the city as if it was dense fog. We even considered the fact that it could actually be fog, but it was four in the afternoon and we were struggling to breath. It was probably not fog.

It’s really easy to arrive to the metro when you exit the airport. On the floor, you can see blue lines accompanied by a yellow arrow that says “Metro”, you only have to follow them. It’s pretty quick to get there.

Before riding the metro, there is another security control. We go through it quickly, and a few minutes later, we are riding a metro towards New Delhi.

Delhi’s metro works with little plastic tokens, called “nugget tokens”, you  need to scan them to get into the metro and return them when you get out. Thanks to heaven, the metro attendants gave us the tokens we needed. You need different tokens depending on which lines you will be taking. For now, the metro looks new, comfy and pretty empty.

Lies, Lieeees. We get out in New Delhi (stop to the New Delhi station) and we take the metro yellow line to the north, following yellow footrpints on the floor, to arrive to our train station (Old Delhi/Delhi Junction). The metro is completely different: We don’t know if it is new or old, because it is Completely full of people. Not very full, not extremely full. Completely full. There are security guards that push the people so they get really tight and the doors can actually be closed. It takes several trials, there is always a hand, a foot or a shoulder in the way.

It looks like Ana is the only woman in there.

In each stop the wave of people that moves to get in and out. It is like a sea current that takes you without knowing where will you stop when the doors close. Really fun.

After a couple of stops, we arrive to ours and we get out pushing through like everyone does. We follow the signs until our exit and we go upstairs to the outside. A half asphalted street, a bunch of street shops and several signs that we don’t understand greet us. There is still half an hour until our train departs. It looks like we are going to make it.

In fact, after a little bit and after going through a security process that we doubt was secure at all, we get onto the train.

We share or second class compartment with an Indian family. Our first destination is Jaipur, where we will move to a different coach (not train) to continue to Jaisalmer. The reason behind this piece of nonsense is that there were no tickets for the whole trip in the same class. In fact, there weren’t even tickets in different classes. The train is full from Jaipur to Jaisalmer and we are waitlisted. The idea is to get onto a Sleeper class (the cheapest class) coach and hope they feel sorry for us and let us stay. Depending on that, our first day will be either in Jaipur or Jaisalmer (or a city in between if we get kicked out midway).

Second class

When the time came, we got off the second class coach and successfully boarded one of the Sleeper class coaches of the “Jaisalmer Express”. It was hard to fit in the tiny coach, filled with Indians sleeping on the floor. Thanks to other Indians that came in at the same time we did and woke up the sleeping ones, we had barely enough space to sit on the floor, crammed. Not a very fun perspective for the next 12 hours.

Despite that, we regret nothing. There were a couple of flies buzzing around, but not a trace of mice or cockroaches. Plus, it was a wonderful experience to be with the Indians during the whole trip. As expected, we were the only foreigners

Initially, we were entertained talking to the Indians that got in with us, but after an hour or so, seven Indian women made us all stand up, as we were blocking the way to the toilet and they had to go.

Now we know why Indian women go in groups to the restroom: to lend each other the flip-flops. The system was as follows: The first one wears the flip-flops and gets into the restroom while the second one holds the door. Once the first one is done, the second one takes the flip-flops and go in, while the third one holds the door and the first one goes back to her seat (if any), and so on.

They noticed I (Ana) was a girl, so they took me with them to their seats, where I spent the next 6 hours, abandoning Alberto.

Ana's seat

Alberto's seat. The blanket is because I was by the door and cold air came in from behind me.

I must say I am amazed. They are super strong women, and if men don’t respect them, they easily force them to do so. In general, every man in the coach do what they say. They kicked a guy out of the seat to put me on it.

They are very kind and nice. We managed to communicate with each other (more or less), and we laughed a lot, although only one of the young ones spoke English.

Another interesting thing was the way they treated each other. It looked as if all of them were part of the same family. They have no issues reprimanding each other, as cousins would, and they slept on top of each other like siblings would, feet and heads all over the mix.

When we got to Johdpur, the train emptied quite a bit… only to immediately fill up again. For some reason, two cops decided that it was now a “for ladies only” couch, so we got off and ran alongside the train until we found another one to get into. There weren’t any free spots, but it still was substantially better than the other one (for Alberto).

As the trip went on and people woke up, we realized we are as exotic for them as they are for us. They kept asking for pictures!

The landscape began to change and became more desert-like. Cows, goats, dogs and a couple of lonely camels flashed at the other side of the windows. There were also a weird kind of pigmy dog-size antelopes running around.

We made friends with a group of Indian guys, one of which spoke really good English and we talked a bit about everything:  Spain, India, USA… India is a very religious country, and they are proud of it. Almost every Indian we talk to mentions it and explains that, since there are so many religions and so many Indians, they have learned to respect all religions, but each of them lives life following their own, without bothering each other.

The English-speaking one was Hindu, but there were also a Muslim and a Sij (with their trademark beard) in the group. We asked the Hindu several things about his religion, based on precepts like loving and respecting each other and working hard every day. Among our question, there was the mandatory one: What’s the deal with the cows?

Cows are NOT holy. However, since they give milk (and Indians drink it), they consider they should treat cows like they treat their own mother. That’s the reason no one bothers them. Most cows have owners, but they are not locked. They wander around and they return home when night falls. “As men do”, explained the Indian with a smile.

Another Indian, who couldn’t even say “hello” in English, was focused on showing us different Indian music videos on his cellphone. Not knowing what to do, we watched like five.

Finally, after 36 hours of travelling, we got to Jaisalmer, the golden city of Rajasthan!