Two Trains and a Tuk Tuk

To Hampi, India -- Day 1

Although we truly enjoyed our stay in Palolem, it was time to continue onward. As soon as we walked outside of the guesthouse to leave, we spotted the local bus, so jumped on determined not to waste a second. Not only that, it was a bargain at $.60 each for a ride to the Margao train station. Soon, however, we reconsidered, unsure when it would fill up and actually get underway or how many stops there'd be. A quick negotiation with a nearby taxi and we were soon on our way, at ten times the bus fare, it was still a bargain. Unlike the ride to the beach, our new driver was content to putter along with bigger taxis and motorcycles passing on the curves. Nevertheless, he not only got us to the station ahead of schedule, but also found us a roadside ATM so we could replenish our cash reserves.

This was our first Indian train experience. The constant activity on the station platforms was mesmerizing. And, perhaps because of my own increasingly drab gray/blue wardrobe, the preference of most people for bright colors is refreshing. Right on time, the train pulled up, and we found our reserved bench seats that convert to a triple stack of sleeping platforms. As the train began winding its way among the mist shrouded hills and waterfalls, a nearby family -- sisters traveling with their husbands and children -- stopped by to say hi. Although only one man spoke English, they were all very interested to learn about us -- where we were from, where we were going, why we were there. Fortunately, the phones are super handy at times like these loaded as they are with thousands of pictures of family, friends and recent travels.

Chai to go

New friends

For the first time, a beggar, one of a trio, became quite persistent. One young woman continued tapping my shoulder, leg and foot, eventually resorting to kissing my boot until I finally got up and climbed into the top bunk. Since we had already given her (and her friends) money, I felt justified in wanting to be left alone. Finally, another passenger scolded them and they moved on.

We got to our midway stop, Hubli, around two. There was little to do at the train station, so we left to find a nearby restaurant. As we took the walking bridge across one of the chaotic, dusty streets, I tried to figure out how the elevated stairs and walkways could possibly be as dirt covered as they were. Every surface was covered with reddish dirt and trash was everywhere.

We chose one of the many small restaurants, to get off the street and take off the packs. No one spoke English, so we eventually recruited a nearby, well-dressed woman to help translate. Despite the extensive menu, the meal choices boiled down to one -- the southern India meal; so it was! Preferring to skip the cups of water sitting on the table, we instead ordered fruit juice, a Seven-Up and Mt. Dew from the cooler. We got to practice eating the rice and curry with our hands given the lack of utensils and stayed put, playing Hearts until needing to return to the station.

We seem to get a little bit of attention in the stations as we've seen no other train tourists so far. Back at the train station, we played with a smiling little boy before the train pulled up, a half hour before its departure. So far, except for the 12 hour bus that took 17, I’m been impressed with the timeliness of the trains. As with our morning ride, part way through the trip, passengers came up to say hello. This time, it was a 10 year old girl and her 11 year old brother traveling with their parents.

Rail station pet

More friends

To make things easy, when we finally got off the train after 9:00, a twenty something man in bare feet asked where we were going. His name was Kai. When we mentioned the Hema Guesthouse, he explained that it was actually on the other side of the river (who knew) and the ferry stopped running at 6:00. However, there were plenty of guest houses on the nearside, Hampi Bazaar, if that's what we wanted. That sounded fine to us since we had never heard back from Hema about staying tonight. He assured us there'd be enough room in his tuk tuk, or more properly, his auto rickshaw. I had to laugh as we pulled away that the four of us and our bags fit into this tiny glorified motorcycle. Given the perfect, dry, 75 degree weather, the ride was at least as comfortable as any of the other taxi rides we’d taken so far. Dex sat beside Kai in the front while the rest of us sat on the bench seat in back, luggage stacked in the foot of space behind the seat.  

Driving on the small country roads, with the smell of fresh air, the croak of frogs, and the drumming of festival drums was great fun. Once we made it into the tiny village of Hampi Bazaar with its tiny, bumpy, dirt roads, the tuk tuk seemed more like a Disneyland amusement park ride as we bounced and turned down street after street. The second guest home we got to had a small, but clean room, though the price was twice what Kai had mentioned. Oh well. We put in a late night order for cheese sandwiches and a mushroom omelette before heading to the room. Two trains and a tuk tuk had made it a good travel day.