Part 1 of a 5 day, 3820km overland journey.
I left the room at 10 slightly ill, this forced my hand, I was to take the AC train to Bengaluru... it also has toilets. I paid the hotel owner and sat down at a ticket booking office next door. I asked for a ticket to Bangalore, today, and much to his surprise there were still 5 AC tickets available (it's more expensive than the AC bus). It's pretty rare to book a sleeper train the same day in India.
This small step solved I then have to get to the start point of the train. While just 60km by road this is no mean feat by the buses of Goa, and will take over 3 hours. I race to the first bus stop in town and catch the bus to Mapusa at 10.45. I've been lucky, I have a seat, and can enjoy the countryside to the rhythm of the thumping complementary Hindi music. I get my money's worth of free music, the bus takes the round the houses route to Mapusa. Pink, green, blue, white with red trim, cream, purple, pink and green. It's easy to forget how bright the Indian houses are after so long in the country. These houses dot a Goa landscape of black rock, dusty red soil and yellow grass. The trees are a mix of palms, bananas, and the broad leaved species.
I get to Mapusa (eventually) and jump on a bus to Panaji which leaves a minute later. The saving grace of the trundling bus service is it's frequency. From Panjim I take a government shuttle bus (they still exist) and reach Vasco (De Gamma) by 1.45. I'm my usual fashionable self as I march around Vasco searching for an ATM which accepts international MasterCard, has Rs500 notes, doesn't charge credit cards, and can give a receipt. Sadly I don't find a machine with all of the above, and go without the receipt. In case you can't picture the British idiot abroad: dark grey baseball cap covering a shiny tanned face with a weeks stubble. Khaki green t-shirt, black rucksack, black backpack over the shoulder. Black shorts, thick grey socks and chunky walking shoes.
The train station has no electronic information boards, but it's pretty standard fare. A multitude of different offices for tickets, catering, waiting rooms, station masters, ticket officers, battery rooms, guards offices, railway protection offices and so on. After a brief panic, that I can't find the train, a helpful ticketing officer directs me to the end of the Delhi train. The last 3 coaches tacked on the end are a separate designation, the train will separate layer. At 15.10 it starts moving, and for at least a minute the vast train (20 something coaches) creeps out of Vasco. I'll save recounting the atmosphere of an Indian train for another day. After 50 minutes the train halts at Madgaon (railway)/Margao (everything else). You have to remember the railway name when dealing with the trains, most places have two names, thanks to the British/ French/ Portuguese. This is the transport hub for Goa and is on the coastal Cancona railway. It's also the home of a crumbling stretch of a 'sky-rail' mass-transit system of the future that wasn't. A few more people board. 6 hours into the journey and I can't be more then 70km from where I started. The edge of Goa is a beautiful hilly nature reserve, the train gives occasional views as it climbs through the hills.
In India the train changes around you. At Londa the three coaches destined for Bangalore are shunted out and back into another perform. They look slightly isolated standing at the platform on their own, a short distance behind another stray coach. At some point we are joined onto the back of the Kolhapur Bengaluru train.
I left the room at 10 slightly ill, this forced my hand, I was to take the AC train to Bengaluru... it also has toilets. I paid the hotel owner and sat down at a ticket booking office next door. I asked for a ticket to Bangalore, today, and much to his surprise there were still 5 AC tickets available (it's more expensive than the AC bus). It's pretty rare to book a sleeper train the same day in India.
This small step solved I then have to get to the start point of the train. While just 60km by road this is no mean feat by the buses of Goa, and will take over 3 hours. I race to the first bus stop in town and catch the bus to Mapusa at 10.45. I've been lucky, I have a seat, and can enjoy the countryside to the rhythm of the thumping complementary Hindi music. I get my money's worth of free music, the bus takes the round the houses route to Mapusa. Pink, green, blue, white with red trim, cream, purple, pink and green. It's easy to forget how bright the Indian houses are after so long in the country. These houses dot a Goa landscape of black rock, dusty red soil and yellow grass. The trees are a mix of palms, bananas, and the broad leaved species.
I get to Mapusa (eventually) and jump on a bus to Panaji which leaves a minute later. The saving grace of the trundling bus service is it's frequency. From Panjim I take a government shuttle bus (they still exist) and reach Vasco (De Gamma) by 1.45. I'm my usual fashionable self as I march around Vasco searching for an ATM which accepts international MasterCard, has Rs500 notes, doesn't charge credit cards, and can give a receipt. Sadly I don't find a machine with all of the above, and go without the receipt. In case you can't picture the British idiot abroad: dark grey baseball cap covering a shiny tanned face with a weeks stubble. Khaki green t-shirt, black rucksack, black backpack over the shoulder. Black shorts, thick grey socks and chunky walking shoes.
The train station has no electronic information boards, but it's pretty standard fare. A multitude of different offices for tickets, catering, waiting rooms, station masters, ticket officers, battery rooms, guards offices, railway protection offices and so on. After a brief panic, that I can't find the train, a helpful ticketing officer directs me to the end of the Delhi train. The last 3 coaches tacked on the end are a separate designation, the train will separate layer. At 15.10 it starts moving, and for at least a minute the vast train (20 something coaches) creeps out of Vasco. I'll save recounting the atmosphere of an Indian train for another day. After 50 minutes the train halts at Madgaon (railway)/Margao (everything else). You have to remember the railway name when dealing with the trains, most places have two names, thanks to the British/ French/ Portuguese. This is the transport hub for Goa and is on the coastal Cancona railway. It's also the home of a crumbling stretch of a 'sky-rail' mass-transit system of the future that wasn't. A few more people board. 6 hours into the journey and I can't be more then 70km from where I started. The edge of Goa is a beautiful hilly nature reserve, the train gives occasional views as it climbs through the hills.
In India the train changes around you. At Londa the three coaches destined for Bangalore are shunted out and back into another perform. They look slightly isolated standing at the platform on their own, a short distance behind another stray coach. At some point we are joined onto the back of the Kolhapur Bengaluru train.
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