Monkeys and scooters and other new things

I discovered captions!

I eventually got tired of sitting in the door and wandered through the cars til I found an unoccupied spot on a bench. Every time I approached the conductor with my ticket in hand he waved me away without so much as a word. I was getting frustrated and extremely curious about what the deal was with this guy, my ticket, this train, the whole railways system, etc. Questions running through my head were to the effect of ‘how can a country this huge and this modern with the kind of global business and production and people it has be unable to properly give me a seat on a damn train?’ It wasn’t until I was kicked out of my third resting spot that the rightful seat owner explained I did not actually have a ticket. I had purchased the right to enter the train and sit in the unreserved car, which he also informed me was so packed I would be unable to stand. I stood in the doorway for a while again, this time somewhat relieved that I was not being somehow prosecuted and there was not some beautiful, cushy, and most importantly, empty seat waiting for me somewhere on the train. With that I wandered through the cars again, careful to hide from the ticket collector lest he banish me to my rightful place, this time somewhat at ease. Not only did I know understand what had happened, but I noticed dozens of other people in the same position and I decided to sit on the corner of someone’s berth as many of them were. I found a girl about my age and asked if I could rest on her bed. At first she said no, but she eventually gave in and after a few hours even let me put my feet up. I slept on and off, compulsively checking that my now two bags (more on that later) were still there and that the time was still moving. Around daybreak the guy sleeping in the berth above us came down to stand at the door and I went up to finally sleep lying down for a bit. The guy who explained my (un)ticket woke me up at my stop and I began the hunt for a power outlet. My phone had been malfunctioning and in my attempt to fix it the battery died, leaving me unable to call (or find the phone numbers of) Ram’s friends Paulani and Pradeep with whom I would be staying. In the end as uncomfortable as it was, the night wasn't a total failure. I arrived in Bengalaru and I felt much more comfortable with trains. Shit, I'll ride a cargo train next time...

I happily bought myself a cold coffee with ice cream in exchange for power use in the station café. As I stared down at my phone with a trance-like intensity it became clear that this phone would not be functioning any longer without some serious work. I searched my brain for where else I might have stored Ram’s phone number and set to work retrieving it from an old chat message on my computer. I used a pay phone (which spits out a little receipt to hand to the attendant) to call Ram and Paulani, verifying the wild address I had written down, filled with Symphonies, numbered highway pillars and long unpronounceable words, leaving my other check-in calls to once I had repaired my phone and could locate phone numbers.

Apparently too dangerous to stay for the colors

It took more than an hour to arrive, but Paulani and Pradeep had a beautiful apartment and I think one look at me and they knew I needed to ‘freshen up’ before we could really chat. They fed me delicious French toast and sent me off on a nap before we headed out for lunch (McDonalds – I have not been able to eat Indian food today, so we decided it would be western food day) and to the Iskcon temple. It was a huge, modern place on the other side of the city, which allowed me to see both a large part of Bengalaru and the newer incarnations of Hindu temples. I made us Tiffany-style Italian pasta for dinner and we all went to bed early, exhausted by the beautiful but traffic-ridden city.

Then next morning I met Janani, Ram’s friend Hari’s cousin who I went to Pondicherry with on my first day in India. She took me along with a few of her friends and sister to see a new Bollywood film Raavan, based on a classic Hindu myth, the Ramayana. Neither of us understands Hindi, but one of her friends gave us a basic translation and I was so entertained by the lively crowd, choreographed dancing and hunky warrier men I didn’t mind much that the plot was improbable and I had no idea what they were saying.

The celebration included lots of food, ceremony and music.

The night on the train and being without a cell phone had left me a bit behind in my planning, so Janani took me back to her house and her mom cooked us food while we used the internet. I was unsettled, hearing reports of rain to the west (where I had planned to go) and that the Mangalore airport was still damaged from the crash the week before, making canceled flights highly probable. To clear my mind, Janani took me shopping to get a Salwar (a long, dress-like shirt and pajama-like pants) and to a friend’s brother’s engagement party. It was an amazing glimpse into some of the tradition surrounding important life events and we rode around the city on Janani’s scooter, which was a revolutionary glimpse into how to survive in an Indian city. We skirted the insane amount of traffic which had handicapped my journeys just one day before, and as my hair blew in the wind I felt free as a bird. When we returned later that night I knew I needed to reroute my travels, so I called up my family while I bought new plane tickets, canceled hotel reservations and arranged for new bus routes.

In the mornings Janani’s mom made me the most delicious khichdi I have ever had – it was rich and buttery and what every morning should be made of. She packed me a lunch for the bus ride and I brought only my stuff for the night – a much, much better way to travel. Janani dropped me off at the bus stop and I felt a bit like a schoolgirl, but on an adventure with a nice business hotel, a temple on the top of a hill and the famous Mysore Palace on the treasure map.

Immediately following the monkey attack...

I decided to get a driver for the afternoon, since I didn’t have a whole lot of time, and he took me up to the top of Chamundi hill. As I went into the temple, practicing all of the rituals I had picked up along the way, people watched and pointed and smiled and asked for pictures. I obliged, but to get some solice walked around the back to a smaller temple, which I had all to myself. I stopped for a juice box along the way, still whistful about the cold stone temples with the deep smell of insence. I enjoyed the mango juice as I walked back into the crowd until I was suddenly grabbed on both shoulders. I immediately stopped, screaming and grabbing my purse out of instinct, until I realized it was two monkeys. They grabbed at my delicious, cold and refreshing mango juice but I didn’t let their grubby little paws take my thirty cents of joy away. I stood frozen in the spot until a man pulled the monkeys off of my shoulders, only for an even bigger one to pounce on me again a few steps away. By this time the juice was all over me and I could see people taking pictures as I scowled at them and asked for help. Those monkey teeth sure look like things I want to keep away from my flesh.

The Mysore Palace at night

I escaped back to the driver and we went to a giant nandi (my favorite!) and the pilgrams steps and waited for the sun to set, or as long as he would let me, citing danger at dusk. I asked him to drive me through the market and to a large palace converted into a hotel for dinner. I had my first fancy dinner, stuffed potato curry and a yogurt cucumber salad, and feeling like a princess I headed to bed so I could get up early to see the big palace and head back to Bengalaru to catch my flight to Mumbai. I still had a few tasks to accomplish: mail the great number of gifts I had accumulated (now filling a whole nother bag) and to get a new cell phone before the moment was finally upon me – I would meet Amara in just a few hours and I was so excited not just to have a travel companion, but to see my baby sister! And in India…who would have thought.