Part 12. Into India, Delhi


There was a train that ran from Amritsar to Delhi, called the Golden Temple Express or Frontier Express, famous for its mail delivery and fast travel. I knew nothing of steam trains and still don’t really but I understand peoples fascination with them. I had read a heap of advice on travelling 3rd class on Indian trains and the bureaucracy of getting discount tickets and surviving long haul journeys. Nothing really prepared me though.

I went to the station to try and get an international student ticket to Delhi and was sent to a small shack some distance across railway sidings, turned out my amended passport wasn’t good enough for a student ticket but they could sell me discounted tourist subsidised ticket as it was my first journey, Id have to go back to the ticket office and ask for a form. Once filled in the form had to be taken along with my passport to the tourist office for verification. Once verified I had to take it back to the shack across the sidings, they then gave me a voucher to collect and pay for the ticket at the ticket office. It took all morning but cost less that 30p for a 250 mile journey...... I got a train the same day and dozed in the luggage rack most of the journey as advised.
India, on first impressions, was really in your face, nobody seemed to have a sense of “Personal Space” , your seat was also their seat, if you slept someone would shake you awake and ask you “what is the purpose of your journey” or “where are you from” etc nothing offensive but relentless and exhausting.
At every stop, small boys would lean in the windows with trays of chai in little disposable clay cups, small bags of nuts and Chana and a habit of disappearing with your small denomination note without giving you any change, cunningly delaying until the train pulled back out of the station. The first train journey is completely bewildering, but you develop skills the more you do it.
Then I Arrived in Delhi. I had the addresses of two hostel places in the Paharganj , the cheapest and most used area, a bustling long market street constantly in use, packed with people, taxis, cows, street vendors, music and mayhem. Somewhere that you could buy anything and if you couldn’t find it or it was dodgy or illegal, one of the taxi drivers would go and get it for you... the hotel was called something like peace hotel or love hotel or something similar and had rooms on 2 floors around an open courtyard with a small hut up on the 3rd story flat roof. The rooms were just plain concrete walls and ceiling with a couple of vent style windows above head height a double or single bed and a chair and table, a rudimentary wooden door with a rather pointless hasp and staple.
Everything you wanted was on the street below. Every type of food, raw or cooked each seller just having the one thing, bread at one rice at another, then bhaji’s at another a yogurt at yet another, everything served in paper or disposable clay pots. Other stalls carried cookware, hardware haberdashery, ironmongery, barbers, saris, sewing goods it was a real bazaar, so crowded at times that you would be swept along.
Small cafes served coffee and chai, basic bhajis and rice and were frequented by mostly Indian students, other stall holders and travellers. It was an adventure each time you went to one, clamouring past the beggars asking for baksheesh (money for food) and fighting off the youngsters who really just wanted to get you to sponsor them to get a visa to Europe, eventually you’d find some kindred spirits, some genuinely friendly students or local people with friends and relatives who could help you out with any queries or request or who had a genuine interest in who these hippy travellers were.
I set out initially to get a forged international student card and find the best of the street food to spend a few days waiting for Hillary to arrive. I really felt sorry for travellers who’d arrived direct into Delhi by plane from Australia or Europe, without the gentle transition of travelling in the East through a variety of places, the culture shock would be enormous for them. I had become a good enough traveller, had skills and abilities to make my way around this noisy chaotic city, barter, haggle and was pleased to have arrived at last in my destination country.




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