Planes, Trains and Autorickshaws

It would be an understatement to say traveling makes me feel alive. From the moment I wake, my senses are acute and my mind is swirling with a plan for the day. I have found that my style is best suited for solo travel and no time is it more obvious than in the morning.

I jump from my bed and survey the familiar surroundings of an Indian guesthouse. A fan spins lazily from a fixture on the ceiling that appears destined to loose its shady grip. One light dangles from an uncovered wire and barely provides enough light for one to notice the crumbling paint on the walls. The atmosphere is uninspiring, even gloomy, yet revered for its utter calmness. For the short time spent dressing and packing in this vacant room will be the last moments that I spend alone the rest of the day- the only personal space that I will know during months spent traveling in India.

I rarely have much of a plan; just a destination. The previous night I inquired about bus schedules and the distance I wished to travel to the South Indian city of Chennai. I’ve learned to accept answers only as opinions and never take anything too literally. In places like Asia, I do as the locals do and travel early, while the sun is still low in the sky and there is the most amount of daylight in which to travel. Opposed to overnight bus trips, daytime travel allows me to view life from the perspective of a local, traveling along local bus routes and paying local fares, while observing and interacting with local people in their own environment.

From the moment I arrive at the bus station, the game has begun. Immediately, I am approached by the familiar squad of local men who seem all too eager to help me locate my bus. These men work on commissions paid by private company bus owners and can be helpful locating a bus that provides more direct and (sometimes) comfortable, yet more expensive transportation. Still eager to experience life from the local perspective, I bypass the reclining seat and so-called air-conditioning of the private buses and board the dilapidated, open-air buses that usually only locals ride.

One sensation of travel never seems to leave me- the feeling of boarding a packed local bus with every eye upon me, my skin the whitest some of these people have ever seen as I slowly maneuver down the aisle and locate a seat. I admit the attention is often overwhelming, for during this 8-hour trip I will be engaged in conversation nearly the whole time. Each person that sits beside me shares their own story, their many questions or just the simple smile of somewhat who cannot verbally communicate with you, but has just said more in a single smile than the man who spoke for hours.

After hours of broken English conversations and death defying stunts by our Indian driver along the highway, an overnight train journey actually sounded relaxing. And since a first class train ticket on this 8-hour overnight journey to Chennai cost 10 times that of second class, I bought the cheaper ticket figuring I was in for an experience. I also knew that timing and position was everything on Indian trains and these can only be accomplished by force, determination and complete disregard for others.

As the train pulled up and the Second Class berth shot past me, I broke into a full run and fought my way onto the train that was already as packed as a cattle car. As I expected, no seat was available. So instead of hanging out the open door like a local, I pushed my way to the center of the car where there was room to stand. Benches that held four were all packed six deep. Overhead bunks were occupied by whole families sleeping on one another. Luggage couldn't fit in overhead racks because full grown men were sleeping there already and the same goes for under the benches. So as the train pulled away, I plopped my bag onto the floor, thankful just to have a cushioned seat. There I sat (and tried to sleep) for 8 rickety hours. The sleeping man beside me quickly became my back rest and I, his pillow. The elderly man who slept on the narrow walkway kept my feet from moving, though his presence didn't deter people from pushing past us and stepping on us both. That's merely the way it is.

I love the thrill that comes with "roughing it" while traveling. But in conditions like those in India, even the toughest travelers will be tested at times. It is an assault on the senses nearly all of the time, but I feel it is important, even for just a few hours, to follow the lead of the locals and experience the country as they do. It would take far more for us to ever understand what it is really like to live as a local in a place like India, but by making some small adjustments to travel arrangements and to our accustomed level of comfort, we can get a better idea what day-to-day life is like for people all over the world.