Our trip to Orissa began with leaving work early. Everyone else was staying until the normal time, so we took the bus back instead of the usual Jeep. The bus was much more crowded, and Dolly and I sat across from a man with ears so hairy, it looked like he had taped a mustache to his earlobes. We were right behind the driver, whose horn played a grating four note jingle very loudly. The horns here are operated by switch, so the driver can just turn it on and leave it on.
We check out of the hotel, and hired two autos to take us an our luggage to the JSS office, where we were leaving everything except for what we needed on our trip. The auto drivers did not know exactly where the address was, so we drove around the neighborhood for a little while, and during this time, a large cow came charging at us, irritated by something, the first time we had seen this happen.
Eventually we made it to the station with Jacob, who we have learned does not just travel with a simple bag (on our first meeting, his travel bag had been in the hotel by (in?) the train station - we had misinterpreted what he meant by "staying at the train station"). He bought us some sweet-lime juices and I started to drink mine, as Dolly hestitated. After questioning its freshness and origins, we found out it was fresh squeezed juice, some salt, and some ice, which carries all the dangers of the local water. Being a gentleman, and not scared of a little ice, I drank mine and Dolly's.
The next morning this proved to be bad idea. We were travelling "sleeper class" which is the coach of India's railways. Un-air conditioned, 3 tier sleeper compartments, cheap prices, and dirty cars. Luckily the bathrooms were not as filthy as I had feared, and I was able to find some relief from the bacteria carried by the ice, which had taken up lodging in my intestines.
We had fruit for breakfast, a banana and a local variety of mango. Jacob showed us how to eat this small mango by squishing it to a pulp inside its own skin, and then biting off the end and drinking down the juice inside. The countryside was green and lush with fresh rain, and we saw people bathing in rivers and ponds, and farmers and their bullocks plowing fields before the sun got too high.
The train, which was due to arrive at 6:30 AM arrived at 1:30 in the PM. The priority on the rails is the large freight trains carrying minerals for multinational corporations. Whether officially or unofficially, the money invovled ensures smoothest operation. The second priortiy goes to local trains, as they stop at all the small stations, and we are told that if they get too delayed, the locals will beat up the stationmaster. That leaves us, the long-distance passenger rail getting stuck sitting motionless on the tracks for hours at a time.
After lunch, we took an auto from the train station to the bus station. The train station is never next to the bus station. We were in the capital of Orissa, Bhubaneshwar, and as drove, we noticed an order that we had not seen before in India. Roads were wide and intersections well marked. There was almost no honking. Trashbins lined the roads. We were told that this was a planned city, and had recently been made the capital. This seemed like a great idea, until Jacob explained that the great expense undertaken to plan such a city could have been better used to address the poverty and malnutrion in a state with a large rural and tribal population.
As it had recently rained, the bus station parking lot was a bug puddle of mud. This bus was not as comfortable as the last bus we had been on, and on top of that it was packed even more full. Luckily, this was not an overnight bus, though we had a 4 hour ride scheduled. Dolly and I sat next to each other, and Jacob was to be sitting behind us, but there was a fuss over the window seat with a slow moving gentleman who had already sat down, and Jacob took a window seat on the other side of the bus.
The bus did not have AC, and my stomach still felt ill. We stopped several times to pick up more passangers, to get gas, so the driver could eat, and we were further delayed by a festival during which a 12-year old boy was crushed and killed under a large ceremonial cart (we later found out), and the combination of celebration and tragedy created a human roadblock.
We got off the still-crowded bus in apparently the middle of nowhere, where we were greeted by three members Sambhav, the Ashram where we will be staying. One of them was Sabarmatee, who is the leader. I'm not sure what kind of organizational structure there is, and if that is her proper title. Though we expected to arrive around lunchtime, we arrived in time for a late dinner. We were taken to a guest room, where we spent a few minutes before taking an excellent dinner at the main gathering area of the Ashram, and we talked a little but until we went to bed and slept very soundly.
We check out of the hotel, and hired two autos to take us an our luggage to the JSS office, where we were leaving everything except for what we needed on our trip. The auto drivers did not know exactly where the address was, so we drove around the neighborhood for a little while, and during this time, a large cow came charging at us, irritated by something, the first time we had seen this happen.
Eventually we made it to the station with Jacob, who we have learned does not just travel with a simple bag (on our first meeting, his travel bag had been in the hotel by (in?) the train station - we had misinterpreted what he meant by "staying at the train station"). He bought us some sweet-lime juices and I started to drink mine, as Dolly hestitated. After questioning its freshness and origins, we found out it was fresh squeezed juice, some salt, and some ice, which carries all the dangers of the local water. Being a gentleman, and not scared of a little ice, I drank mine and Dolly's.
The next morning this proved to be bad idea. We were travelling "sleeper class" which is the coach of India's railways. Un-air conditioned, 3 tier sleeper compartments, cheap prices, and dirty cars. Luckily the bathrooms were not as filthy as I had feared, and I was able to find some relief from the bacteria carried by the ice, which had taken up lodging in my intestines.
We had fruit for breakfast, a banana and a local variety of mango. Jacob showed us how to eat this small mango by squishing it to a pulp inside its own skin, and then biting off the end and drinking down the juice inside. The countryside was green and lush with fresh rain, and we saw people bathing in rivers and ponds, and farmers and their bullocks plowing fields before the sun got too high.
The train, which was due to arrive at 6:30 AM arrived at 1:30 in the PM. The priority on the rails is the large freight trains carrying minerals for multinational corporations. Whether officially or unofficially, the money invovled ensures smoothest operation. The second priortiy goes to local trains, as they stop at all the small stations, and we are told that if they get too delayed, the locals will beat up the stationmaster. That leaves us, the long-distance passenger rail getting stuck sitting motionless on the tracks for hours at a time.
After lunch, we took an auto from the train station to the bus station. The train station is never next to the bus station. We were in the capital of Orissa, Bhubaneshwar, and as drove, we noticed an order that we had not seen before in India. Roads were wide and intersections well marked. There was almost no honking. Trashbins lined the roads. We were told that this was a planned city, and had recently been made the capital. This seemed like a great idea, until Jacob explained that the great expense undertaken to plan such a city could have been better used to address the poverty and malnutrion in a state with a large rural and tribal population.
As it had recently rained, the bus station parking lot was a bug puddle of mud. This bus was not as comfortable as the last bus we had been on, and on top of that it was packed even more full. Luckily, this was not an overnight bus, though we had a 4 hour ride scheduled. Dolly and I sat next to each other, and Jacob was to be sitting behind us, but there was a fuss over the window seat with a slow moving gentleman who had already sat down, and Jacob took a window seat on the other side of the bus.
The bus did not have AC, and my stomach still felt ill. We stopped several times to pick up more passangers, to get gas, so the driver could eat, and we were further delayed by a festival during which a 12-year old boy was crushed and killed under a large ceremonial cart (we later found out), and the combination of celebration and tragedy created a human roadblock.
We got off the still-crowded bus in apparently the middle of nowhere, where we were greeted by three members Sambhav, the Ashram where we will be staying. One of them was Sabarmatee, who is the leader. I'm not sure what kind of organizational structure there is, and if that is her proper title. Though we expected to arrive around lunchtime, we arrived in time for a late dinner. We were taken to a guest room, where we spent a few minutes before taking an excellent dinner at the main gathering area of the Ashram, and we talked a little but until we went to bed and slept very soundly.
If (when) we came to visit, would we have the same bad travel arrangements? It seems that most of the tiime would be spent on bad buses and trains.
Maybe... some of the difficulty is that we're going to smaller towns. If you stick to the big cities and book in advance, you shouldn't have to do much bus traveling. The trains run better than the buses, and you can always take airplanes - domestic air travel will be pretty cheap. You can also rent a car/driver for shorter distances. I don't know if travel conditions improve in areas where there is more tourism.