Train Mishap

I did it! I am finally liking India.

I am now in Trivandrum, the capital of Kerala, the farthest southern state of the country. I had no intention of coming here, but the British girls were coming, and seeing as I had nothing else to do, I followed. Well, as I was researching Kerala a bit, I stumbled across this ashram:
http://www.sivananda.org/ndam/

So I ditched my plans with them, still headed to Kerala but for a different purpose now.
Getting here was hellacious. I missed my train, and it was utterly moronic. You see, something inside of me said that no train as decrepit and slow-looking as these Indian trains could be on time, much less early. But early my train was, by a full half an hour, and though I was sitting on the platform (!), I missed it. I only had the sense to ask one person if this was, in fact, the train to Trivandrum, and he confirmed my suspicion that it was not. Well, he was wrong, I asked no one else, and I was left with very few options. As good as the Indian public transportation system is, it is not enough for the population, and train tickets have to be booked days in advance. So I was waitlisted for the 11:30 p.m. train (mine had departed at 9:30 a.m. that morning, leaving me an entire day at the station), with very little hope of getting on. I tried to buy a non-waitlisted ticket for Sunday's train, but the man at the counter did not understand my request, and kept shooing me away. Seeing as I was feeling like everything was getting lost in translation and I was holding up a massive line, I left the reservation office with just my waitlisted ticket.

I spent the day trying not to beat myself up. I treated myself to Domino's and watched Inception, neither of which calmed the gnawing feeling in my stomach that I would be staying in Goa for another two days at the least.

As it got closer to 11:30, I was still not off the waitlist, and I was getting a little desperate. I kept asking the reservation office what I should do if the train should come and I am not off. I knew there was someone on the train with whom I could speak, but I couldn't get my question across, and again, people behind me in line were getting impatient, some even shoving me out of the way. (One time, a nun did this, and I instinctively gave her the dirtiest look, before I felt massively guilty. But really! A shoving nun!)

At 11:30 a train arrived, and I was determined to board, but I had to find the ticketmaster. As the train pulled to a stop, hundreds of people poured our of the doors - it was a big stop where they could get some late night food - and I could not find one person who worked for the train. I didn't even have a clue if this was the right train, as key information, like the train number, was not painted on to the side. I boarded the train and ran through the dark cabins, where almost everyone was asleep. Every time I saw a conscious person, I asked for someone - anyone- who worked for the train, but no, no, no, was the only answer I got. I left the train and did the same thing on the platform - Does anyone work for this train??? - but no again.

Finally, these well-dressed Indian boys who spoke good English (!) approached me to ask if I was lost.

"Yes!" and I couldn't control myself, I broke down crying.

Now, I am not the girl who cries to get her way. Let me say that now. I do not cry if I get a traffic ticket, I do not cry at work, and I do not cry in the middle of Indian train stations, just to play the sympathy card and get aboard.

But I cried.

Oh man, did I cry. I was so worked up, I couldn't even understand what they were saying to me, only that they were trying to devise a plan that would get me on to the train. It involved bribing a ticket officer. I was keen to do it, but just before we worked out the details, the train - it turns out not my train at all - honked that it was about to leave. The boys had no choice but to get back on the train without me, but before they did, they brought me to a little office on the platform. No line here!

Inside the office there was more crying, and this time these workers seemed truly desperate to get rid of it. At first, they tried to send me back to the reservation office, the one in which I had been pushed out of line over and over again, but I refused to go, only breaking down a little more.

I'm not sure who pulled what string, or how it happened, but at some point, I was attached to a government worker who would be working on the train I was trying to board. They said he would get me on the train, but not to lose sight of him. I took them at their word, and did not let him out of my sight for a minute. (This was probably a bit creepy and weird when he left the office to smoke a cigarette and I followed.) But sure enough! My train came, a bit past midnight, and I followed him like a devoted puppy. As soon as the trian stopped, he checked a list, and told me which seat to take! I shook his hand, tears welling up again, and said "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" over and over again.

I am sorry for my outburst, I really am. It's embarrassing and goes against the type of way I seek to deal with people, but I am so happy to be in Trivandrum.

And now I am off, Eat, Pray, Love style, to an ashram. I called them last night and they have enough room for me. This ashram has a very strict schedule, 5 a.m. to 10 p.m., of yoga, meditation, and vegetarian eating. I am soooo excited!