Journal Entry 18

April 20th, 2003

"Quick Run North"

 

So,

Back in India...spent a day in Trivandrum, then headed north. The feeling of being back on a motorcycle is incomparable. I curse having it sometimes. It's a pain in the ass. But when driving it...that all changes! So, headed north to Alappuzha, where I did a trip on the "Backwaters", basically India's answer to Venice. Even smells similar, maybe a bit worse. Spent about 7 hrs on local boats, wandering the waterways connecting homes and villages. Saw lots of fishermen, people doing laundry in the canals, working the paddy fields.

Then to Kochi, a major port town on the west coast. It was a big Porteguese fort at one time. The northern coast of the natural bay is lined with Chinese fishing nets. It's a very colorful place--pastel buildings and spice shops and Indian tourists on the beach...and people protesting the war. This was my last stop in southern India.

On April 11, I woke up at 5.45am and drove my cycle to the train station for the 9.20am train. Figured that's plenty of time to get the paperwork done and the motorcycle loaded onto the train. Well, this IS India... 6.30am. Got to station. Guy in the parcel office said there's a shift change at 7.30am, the new guy can help me, he can't. 7.45am. No new guy. Same old guy. Tells me to wait a while, he's busy. 8.00am. I point out that the train is leaving somewhat soon. 8.15am. (Same guy) gives me a paper to fill out. I do so and promptly return it. He says he'll fill out the rest of the paperwork. 8.30am. He locks up the office, says he's going out for coffee, will be back in a while to do the paperwork. 8.35am. I try to hire a coolie to wrap my bike in burlap and label it. We argue over price. 8.45am. He walks away, calling my bluff. 8.50am. I find a new coolie who does the work for my price, luckily as there seemed to be a "coolie-cartel" formed against me. 9.00am. Guy returns from coffee, fills out forms. 9.20am. Coolie finishes with my bike. I'm sweatin' bullets. Race to train. 9.25am. Find my compartment. Dump bags. 9.30am. Run to baggage car, help lift bike into train. Pay coolie. Board train. 9.32am. Train leaves. So in the end, if the train would've been on time, neither me nor my bike would've been on it.

60-hr train ride. First class. Air conditioning. Read two books. Ate 16 mangos, 1/2 kilo grapes, a papaya, and lots of Indian meals, served to me on a tray and carried away when I was finished. And the cost of the ticket ($50) plus shipping my bike ($13) was about half what I would've paid on petrol alone if I would've driven back to the north.

3 days and 2 nights later I was in Gorakhpur, in north-central India. This is where I had begun my India adventure, coming from Nepal back in December. When I left the north, it was by motorbike on a slow gradual journey south across the country. A cold, foggy morning, wearing 4 layers, plus gloves. When I returned to the north, it was a hot, hazy evening after a lightning-quick ride across the country.

Got off the train, found the baggage car, helped unload my bike (after two guys tried to do it and crashed the engine block against the edge of the railway car), and signed the necessary forms to take it away... Pushed it under a street light to unwrap it (two guys got in a fight over who got to keep the torn piece of burlap that had covered it). The damage? Broken front left blinker, bent seat-back, horn doesn't work right, jammed kickstart pedal. Not bad for being on an Indian train.

Immediately, noticed that the changes from southern and northern India are drastic. Different people, different food, different mannerisms, different landscape...but same hot...

Next day, went to a mechanic, despite my new strategy of not visiting a mechanic unless the cycle no longer runs. Well, that didn't work out so hot, because sure enough, I had problems later in the day. Serves me right. So I'm through with mechanics again.

At the Nepal border, met an Israeli and a Swiss guy on another Enfield. After clearing immigration and customs, I joined them and we drove halfway across Nepal as the sun set and beyond. Wonderful ride, with the occasional distant lightning flash illuminating the foothills of the Himalaya, above, and the valley, below.

Next day there was a nation-wide strike, so no road traffic allowed. We were stopped on our cycles by student demonstrators, but blazed through them. We got a military escort for 37km on traffic-free roads until we reached a town that was clear of strikers. From there, we continued on our picturesque journey to Kathmandu. No gas stations were open, so I had to fill up from a guy selling gas from a big plastic jug.

Drove through the narrow streets of Kathmandu, right on past Durbar Square, the busy cultural center of the city. Checked into a guesthouse. And here I sit. My friend Matt from the U.S. arrived today.

"...a long-forgotten fairytale, is in your eyes again. And I'm caught inside a dream world, where the colors are too intense, and nothing is making sense." (-Magnetic Fields, "Long-Forgotten Fairytale")

 

All rights reserved

Away Awhile is hosted by Josh Trutwin.