The train to Goa; or, how to spend 35 hours not being at your destination

The main lesson of this blog is that you really shouldn’t ever take a train in India if you are in a rush.

We decided to get the train from Kerela to Goa, an 18 hour journey. There weren’t any first class carriages available, and none left with air conditioning either, so we opted for the cheap and cheerful 6-berth sleeper carriage with a fan. The train was due to depart at 10am, but arriving at the station nice and early we saw a new departure time had been written on a whiteboard. ‘Delay. 6346 will now depart at 22.00h’. A 12 hour delay seemed an awful lot, but we sucked it up and did the sensible thing – checked into a 4 star hotel and prepared to sit out the wait in relative luxury.

Mindful that a 12 hour delay could well have turned into a cancellation, we asked the hotel to ring the station at 9pm, to check everything was on time. They assured us all was well so back we went, heading straight to the platform with confidence. Needless to say, 10’o’clock came and went. We asked at the front desk. ‘Definitely after 11’ they said. The train actually arrived at 2am, by which time I was asleep on the floor, probably in one of the platform’s many puddles of wee, and Joe had nearly finished the book which was supposed to have lasted him the whole trip.

The carriage was filled with about 70 bunk beds, with no dividing walls or curtains. The beds were sheathed in blue vinyl and we weren’t offered any pillows or blankets. Against the odds I was straight out and only woke up 8 hours later. The next day was an extremely long one. We sat opposite a well-heeled young couple who threw all their litter out of the window and invited their little girl to join in. It was frustrating to sit back and watch, but no doubt they found our habits equally offensive.

This act of disposing of one’s rubbish through the nearest window is a rather popular pass time here. Regardless of wealth and social status, when it comes to abandoning litter, everyone is equal. It’s the same on the streets and in the towns, there doesn’t seem to be any bins or a collection system. As a result, large piles of colourful plastic line the streets and countryside alike. Despite all the litter, as the train whizzed along we passed a wind farm of well over 200 turbines, it could have been the view from a train cruising through European countryside. I am not aware of the costs of 200 wind turbines and the positive impact they have on cutting carbon emissions, but I can’t help but feel that the money spent on the turbines could employ an army of bin men for years.

After 1 taxi ride, a rickshaw, 12 hours in a hotel, another rickshaw, sleeping on the platform for 4 hours, 22 hours on the train interrupted by a landslide – bus diversion, and one final taxi, we arrived in Goa. Tired and fragile, the hotel beckoned and a deep sleep ensued.