On the Rails

India Rail is the second largest employer in the world, it shuffles more people around daily than any other country's inhabitants, it has about 7000 odd stations and daily accidents from children playing near the track or wandering cows mean that it is also India's largest killer after road transport with 1400 deaths daily. The figures seem impossible to believe but it gives an idea of the size of the place.

We decided to go from Karnataka to Kerala by train as it was the ost direct route, you could move around in it and we wouldn't be squashed.How wrong were we?

It took 26 hours in a mixture in different classes.The British in their legacy divided the train carriages into classes, just as the people were divided into castes, that way nobody got above their station in life or above their class of carriage. It still holds somewhat today with the more expensive carriages only afforded by Westerners or those with money. They range from 2 tier bunks with air condition curtains and meals to sleeper class where the masses pile on and there's a srcum for seats with burly men usually always winning.

We hopped a local bus first from Gokarna to the nearest track and realised we had to go north one hour in a local train to catch the express trains going south so that we did.

We then hopped onto a local train that didn't have any air conditioned options. It was only a short ride but that didn't stop the wall of wet heat feeling as if we'd just come out of the shower. The sleeper class of the train had families were spread out everywhere enjoying a dinner which was prepacked earlier of 'thali', a vegetarian delight of rice, paratha, dhal(beans) and aloo(potatoes). The great smells lingered in the air and as many families were eating the aroma lasted a long time.

Waiting for trains can be gruesome if you've no books, no games, no people watching skills or the air is thick with humidity even at 9 o'clock at night but we passed our time quietly contemplating sleep in the overhead bunks of our first a/c sleeper.

Finally the train arrived 2 hours late which is pretty good by Indian standards and we were ushered in by the railguard after the requisite ticket check. All was black except for the deafening snores of sleepers and the occasional russle. We locked our belongings to the supplied chains and went to 'neverneverland'. Oh, I forgot....we're already in 'neverneverland' as Heidi keeps informing me that we will never, never come back here to this beautiful sleeping giant of a country.

We're awoken at 1am , 2am, 3am or something like that as other passengers get on and off at various stations, so our tranquil repose is severely interrupted throughout the night.

The next day is spent lapping up the air conditioned carriage and speaking formal English with locals. The language hasn't evolved much since the British left in 1947. We descend at Aluva station as the express train finishes at Cochin and we wait a further 3 hours for the next express through to Trivindurum and this time there are no a/c carriages just a free for all.

It didn't look positive when the train rolled up, as it looked like all 40 carriages had people hanging out of every door adn arms straying out of the metal grilled windows showing that it was indeed fullt to choking, but by the time some passengers had descended, and the one's standing sat in their places, there was some space beside the frequently used bathrooms and sink. We shuffled around for the next 6 hours making way for 'chai wallahs' or teaboys and coffee sellers to penetrate the seeming impossible fully stocked carriages. Ceiling fans did little or no good to circulate the air but due to the lack of windows and the grilles used instead, breezes did occur when the train was in motion.

The land was dotted with paddy fields, coconut,cardomom crops and banana trees showing the dense tropical landscape all around. We spliced the backwaters of Kerala going over countless bridges and passing an ornithologist's heaven with cranes stalking in the marshy waters and hawks surveying snakes and field mice from their vantage points in the updraughts of air.

We got into Trivindrium for 7pm and the only other hurdle was to negotiate the meandering crowds as thousands of people at once were offloading onto the platforms and the exits. People clambered down onto the many tracks through other stationary trains rather than take the overhead bridges that joined all the platforms. This sea of humanity was only one station of 7000 were this occurred daily and even the over-persistent rickshaw drivers and the near impossible task of finding a hotel couldn't dampen our spirits after such an epic trip...what a full day! Just lovin' it!

Gokarna....for whom the bell tolls

After saying goodbye to the golden white sands of southern Goa, we venture across the state border where a few people are apprehended for the illegal importation of contraband...namely booze. It's the local potent variety which is called 'feni' and comes in coconut or cashew form, the latter being even stronger. It seems like Goa is the most liberalised state in India so the police are well used to routinely searching the buses but it still adds quite a stir to the day's proceedings

The unbearable heat is made a little easier by travelling in the state buses along the coast with an onshore breeze and when we get to the pilgrim town of Gokarna, we are relieved

Cows wonder aimlessly through town while local women stone them to keep them from their market produce. Processions of the dead are carried through the streets in a open bamboo type stretcher wrapped in white loincloths and wearing garlands of freshly picked flowers and lotus leaves.Chanting and the striking of bells proceed the corpse so that others may pay homage. Pilgrims gather more to cremate their dead loved ones here in the many temples and return for the first year after the cremation to celebrate their life. The spirituality is omnipresent in this venerable little town.

Panjim old Town

The old town area of Sao Tome, name just like the island in the Nigerian delta, translated means "St. Thomas", is reminicent of a bygone era, one with splendid balconies and inner courtyards, horse drawn carriages and palatial mansions....so was Panjim, maybe 450 years ago, when the Portuguese ruled the roost. The state of decline has crept up on this capital albeit slowly, but it's inner beauty cannot be hidden for very long.

Prawn salesmen honk their horns at first light delivering fresh fish caught in the local Mandovi river, wheeled around in a basket on top of an old push bike, local Konkani people collect their fresh fruit from the central market and take it to various corners in turn to sell it on to passers by.

Nuns parade in immaculately white shawls.Good Friday masses are held outside the church because of the cool dry air and the procession of the cross takes place late in the evening so it doesn't cause traffic jams but mainly because the air is cooler.Faith and christianity are everywhere in this tiny quarter.Just as the hindus burn incense to their gods, the local Catholic faith have earmarked parts of their property for the same type of daily sacrifice, the scarred blackened walls and garlands of flowers around marble crosses act as testimony.Each home has a crucifix molded to its wall, depicting whether or not they are religious.

We've been here 2 weeks and don't want to leave for the sea, sand and beachlife as this cannot be replicated. Old men wonder the dust filled streets in search of the 'mutgar' or gambling man so they can wager a bet on the numbers. He is usually to be found in the many tiny pubs that are in such a decreipt state of disrepair, that they're more eyesores than drinking dens, but as bad as they may seem, they are heaving with locals inside, all men, all not working and all drinking the local brew of fermented cashew nuts known as 'fenni'.

While everyone watches each other..from balconies, barndoors that cut in two in the middle, and from stoops, most wonder what life has brought them but they continue their daily rituals regardless.

The Hillstation Retreat of Mabalasehwar

Well, they don't come closer to cool temperate climates than this 1500m high retreat 4 hours south of Pune. Initially it was set up for the Raj when they ruled this State and they convened here in the high summer temperatures. The British in turn used it as a mosquito free, hence malaria free area to get away from the noon day sun and the maddening hordes of people in Bombay but more recently it has come to symbolize modern day India. Due to the thinner unpolluted air, there are quite a few boardng schools where well-heeled Indians will send their children. When parents visit during term break, they avail themselves of the treks that lead to superb views over the valleys below and spa like hotels which fully cater to their every whim. . Indian tourists are here to stay.

It is the berry growing capital of the state and the intense cultivation has only one downside....fruit flies...everywhere. But the wonderful array of fruits on offer are in turn made into jams, fudges and ice-creams. Grapes are also produced and with the viniculture come the local wines and ports.

Reflect on Goa

Well, the Indian army might have just waltzed in here in 1961, but present day Goa is still an architectual legacy of the Portuguese colonialisation. Sitting having chai at first light in a cafe dipping the local bread roll, pao, into the hot cinnamon tea, the old man wishes us "Bom dia" or 'good day'.

It is the refreshing change in culture and attitude that makes Goa so welcoming. For the last 10 years, it's provincial beaches have been the main stages of trance and techno parties but that has made little impression on the old town. It is still a hollowed bastion of Roman Catholicism linked with the Hindu culture, a weird mix but one that truly gives this place a distinct feel.

The brightly colored pastel buildings with their large ceilings and windows and inner courtyards all add to this melting pot of East meeting West. The cultural mix is also reflected in its people who have a quiet charm and saintlike patience with everything from poor motorcyclists to the intense humidity.