It started with a train.
(Well, technically, it started with a taxi, but I've done taxi's before so that's old news.)
I arrived an hour before the train was scheduled to depart and found it waiting for me. The train station in Dehradun isn't terrible vast, so I located it quickly. Now it was time to find which car I was booked on. I had initially found myself with a wait-listed ticket, which meant that I couldn't even enter the train, but was later changed to a Reservation Against Cancellation (RAC) ticket, which meant that I was sharing a berth with someone else. Why? I don't know. India does that to you sometimes.
I was told that I would have to check a list somewhere to see where my ticket was valid. I was expecting to find the list at a booth or on a column somewhere, but it was actually right on the train. That made sense, but also meant that I had to travel the length of the train to see where my name (incorrectly spelled) was printed. After asking a young man how to read the list (half of it was in Hindi), I figured it out and got on the train.
I was definitely the very first person on the train car. It was totally empty, which was a little eerie, but also gave me a chance to take in my surroundings and get to know the system. It looked like this:
Another benefit to being the first person on the train: I was able to grab the window and corner side with the personal reading light. Anyone who has traveled with me knows that I like having the window seat, so it was a little bonus. The window didn't open, and had a yellowish tint to it, but I was pretty content.
Others started coming in, getting settled. I met my bunkmate, who I will refer to as Grumpy Man, and a mother with a young child who had purchased a high bunk by accident. After asking the man below her berth if he could take the higher one so her child could be safe, and being denied by that jerk, she asked me if I could switch with her. I explained my situation regretfully. I only had half the bunk to offer. We all sat together until the conductor came up to take our tickets and collect another 25 INR (the rate had gone up while no one was looking, apparently). After much talking in Hindi between Conductor, Grumpy Man, and Mother, it was revealed that I had actually been booked on berth 43 and that Grumpy Man was leaving. I agreed to trade my berth with Mother's and spent the rest of the night reading, playing with Child, or talking with Mother.
The next day, Mother and Child left the train at their stop in Lucknow and I resumed my previous berth. It was this day that I became aware that the train guys must think I'm an absolute idiot. There are four major moments that reinforce that belief:
1) The chai situation. A man with Betel nut stains in his teeth came to my compartment and said, "Chai?" I was eager for some, and replied affirmatively, but then realized that I had no idea how to proceed. Was he getting some for me? Should I give him money? Do I need to get off the train (it was stopped at a station)? He sensed my uncertainty and tried to communicate, him knowing Hindi and me knowing English. He almost gave up several times, and spoke to his friend in Hindi about me, saying something that I translated to, "I'm trying to explain to this stupid white girl that she needs to get off the train to get chai and she's just not getting it." After a while, I figured out that I needed to get off the train and get a chai at the station. 7 INR. Not bad.
2) The breakfast debacle. Just as I was sitting down to my chai back on the train, another man came by offering the breakfasty train equivalent of TV dinners. I bought one (HUGE RIPOFF at 160 INR), and I tried to open it. The foil on the top of the tray was tough and, as soon as any of the oily food got onto it, it was impossible to grip. I struggled with this foil for 20 minutes, while Helpful Man and his Friend looked on, sipping their chai. I spilled food onto the tray table, onto the floor, onto my pants. Finally, I decided to cut it. I took my little knitting scissors from my pocket and cut each individual portion of the tray. I finally ate my breakfast, but my dignity was in shreds. Also, clean-up was an involved process.
3) The leaning out of the train issue. Earlier in the day, I had seen a man lean out of the open door of the train, sunglasses on, hair ruffling in the breeze, looking so free. I vowed that, the next time I saw an open door while the train was running, I would take advantage of it and do the same. After breakfast, I went to throw away my tray and found an open door! Yes! I went to it eagerly, grasped the outer handles and leaned myself out a bit. It was truly exhilarating. I watched field fly by in the morning sun. It was hot and humid already at 8 AM. I stood there, smiling to myself, squinting into the distance, when I heard a familiar voice behind me. Helpful Man stood there, motioning that I should come inside the train. I'm pretty sure he said, "It's dangerous!" I smiled at him and leaned out again, but he persisted, and I reluctantly returned to my berth. He spoke about me again to his friend and they laughed heartily.
4) In the late morning, Helpful Man was apparently bored and decided to try and communicate a little more with the inexperienced white train girl. He sat down in a decidedly casual manner, leaning to the side of the berth one elbow, barefoot, made a motion with his hands that looked like he was striking a match and said something that sounded like "Sweet Tarts?" I looked at him blankly. Did he want Sweet Tarts? Does he have Sweet Tarts? Was he wondering if I wanted Sweet Tarts? Can you even get Sweet Tarts in India? Does he need a match for something? Is he asking me if I need a light? Another friend of his, who was wearing a suit jacket, slacks, and tennis shoes, translated Helpful Man's question: "So you knit?" Oh. Of course. That explains the hand motion. I brought out my project and Suit Jacket and Helpful Man sat down and looked admiringly at my work. After smiling for a bit, none of us had anything to say, so they left and I continued my reading.
The train was uneventful after that, even eerie because of the dearth of people, but I got some cool photos of the ride.
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