Delhi Part 3

After a short room break, I headed back out into the street to find a resto for my first real meal since the plane. Feet constantly inches away from vehicle wheels, glad my toes are still intact. Settled on a German bakery (they're everwhere) that had a great rooftop terasse. Had my staple Indian dish, palaak paneer (spinach and cheese). They make it a little different here than in Canada: the spinach is pureed and looks terribly unappetizing yet tastes wonderful. Have been exhausted all afternoon... still not adjusted to the time change. I wake up around 2 or 3 am and can't go back to sleep, then have heavy eyes during the day. Back at hostel, tried having my first shower, but it turned into a quick rinse... the hot water advertised was a few seconds of warm followed by cold. That, or I wasn't working the water heater properly. Very possible. While on the topic of bathrooms, thank you Mandi for the toilet seat covers you put in my stocking last Christmas... who would have thought they'd come in so handy a year later and halfway across the world! Was in bed at 8:30, hoping for a good rest before waking up at 5:30 to catch my train to Haridwar (closest train stop to Rishikesh). No luck... fell asleep quickly but woke up at 9:30 (thinking it was time to get up!), managed to fall back asleep, then woke up again at 11:00, tossed and turned till12:30am, and decided to get up when sleep wouldn't come. Loud child and adult voices outside, earplugs not very effective. Fell back asleep around 2am, then woke about every hour until finally getting up around quarter past 5. The incessant wake-ups were my internal body clock was looking out for me: I was nervous about getting up on time for my train. I had asked reception the night before if I could get a wake-up call, but he said not to rely on them 100%. I figured that meant probably no, and my phone battery was almost dead (alarm clock). Phone alarm did go off at 5:45, no wake-up call.
Headed out around 6am to catch my 6:50 train. Pleasant early morning walk down the dark street. Calm, quiet, dream-like. Thought the crazy intersection would would be less crazy at this hour, but I though wrong. Still had to pray for survival as I crossed. Put my bags through security scanner at the station, and finally figured out the direction to platform 16, the furthest one. This place is enormous; it was quite a trek just to get to where my train was. I made it and the long train was there waiting. Now, where do I get on, where do I sit? I asked someone who didn't seem to understand, but pointed further down the way. I noticed that very long lists of names were printed and posted outside each entrance. So I start frantically speeding from one to the next, quickly scanning the lists looking for my name. This would take forever, I thought. The train would surely leave before I found my name. A railway worker noticed me and asked for my seat number. I looked at him, puzzled. He asked to see my ticket, showed me the number of my entrance and the number of my seat, both pretty clearly indicated. Way to go, Erika. I guess it was a little too early for me to be smart. I was seated with 10 minutes to spare. (My hostel receptionist encouraged me to get a good class of ticket - not luxury, but not too crowded and no animals - so I would be comfortable and unbothered on the train. It was $9 for a 4-hour ride including drinks and food. Sure, why not.) Magazines and newspapers were distributed as soon as we took off, followed by a bottle of water, a tray of snacks and a jug of chai tea. Daylight was just appearing as we pulled out of the dark station. Pretty grey and hazy outside, and it takes only minutes before the heart-wrenching sights begin. Small children rummaging through piles of trash along the tracks; homeless people warming up by the fires beside their tents under the roof of abandoned railway stations; tall brick and clay crumbling blocks, home to so many; men squatting with thier pants down, taking their morning dump amidst the trash. Meanwhile, my lunch arrives with a second jug of tea. (And as for my dumps, so far so good: no Delhi belly!) It was almost the scheduled time of arrival in Haridwar, but station names hadn't been announced at stops along the way, so I was hoping I'd get off at the right place. There were two western-looking men on the train: one was asleep, the other reached for his bag as we approached the biggest station since we had left, which I assumed was Haridwar. I asked him, and he confirmed that it was. He was a German who had been to India 20 years ago, and was just starting his second trip here. He was also on his way to Rishikesh, so we headed toward the bus station together.
Next blog post: Rishikesh, land of yoga!