Trying to decide what is scarier: the gut-wrenching, gag inducing, lung
destroying odors of the trains or the speed of light, deafening horn blaring,
on two wheels tip over, veering dart & weave toss around of the buses. While yes, overnight trips save you 1. the
cost of accommodation and 2. a day to see things instead of whiz by them, the
lack of sleep and agonizing hours of endless terror wipe you out for the entire
next day anyway. This is how I arrived
in Chennai. Somehow I still managed to
find my way on to a city bus and across town to where I was going to stay for
the next few days. I had intentions of
flying from Chennai to the Andaman Islands to
do some dive, dive, diving (oh how I miss you underwater world!) but a look
into prices left me blue and confined to city limits. That’s fine.
India
For most of that first day, I was super
lazy. I napped and did laundry. Yes the bus journey was that
devastating. Oh, and I watched TV. My room had a TV with a couple of English
channels – woop woop! You have no idea
how exciting this is until you’ve lived without a TV. Okay, okay I know there are some of you who
have evolved past the need for mindless monitor watching but I haven’t had TV
in as long as I can remember so yes, this was brain switch off, noodle rot,
jolly good fun. There wasn’t even
anything good on but it was English and I was entertained. I did go for a little walk, got a little
intimidated, held my own, and made it back without too much of an issue, but
yeah, most of the first day was a much needed write off.
Chennai is on the coast so if I can’t dive,
then beach here I come! My place was
within easy walking distance from the beach through city streets that doubled
as cart vendor sell anything spots by day, sleeping spots by night. Homeless in India
I tried to sit and watch the waves for a
bit with a tissue over my nose but was quickly spotted by a variety of sellers
turned beggars once they sniffed out fresh, white traveler. Funny how they zoomed past all the Indian
holidayers on the beach and turned up the masterful sad and broken faces only
when I was within reach. So no sitting
on the beach for me and walking on the beach was revealing a variety of
disturbing bits so yep, exit to the street.
A second visit a couple of days later was
much more fruitful. As I adopted a sandy
but sweet mama and pup to fill with clean water and biscuits, I became the
centre of attention for the camel and horse owners who prowled the beach with
their dolled up rides hoping to make a bit of cash. They couldn’t quite
understand why I would care for these little creatures but after a broken
English chat, they seemed to buy into the whole “be kind to all animals” kind
of thinking. We sat around under the
shade of their decorated beasts and discussed how to best care for said money
makers as well as whatever else crosses their paths. Very nice men who wanted nothing other than
to visit. Nice, nice, nice.
Not a bad city. A university town with all the sadness of
Indian inner city but an attempt at culture, it seemed, some order, it felt,
and it was working, for the most part.
Highlight of Chennai (equal to the glee of TV) was finding … SUBWAY! While wandering the downtown area I looked up
and singing angels, a Subway. A REAL
Subway, not an underground train station but the king of sandwich shops of
which is near and dear to my heart. I
yelped out loud and zoom! I was in! A near empty shop but identical to the
western world (minus the beef but adding the curry and tandoori). An unexpected comfort that I indulged in,
guilt-free. It has obviously been a long
time, folks if instead of appreciating the local culture I am embracing sights
from home. I felt it was well deserved
however, and enjoyed every lingering second of it.
That was the highlight of Chennai. It was an okay city but an unremarkable
city. A jumping off point for the
glories of the Andamans that lay just out of my reach. Next time, next time.
Oh.
And I went to a movie. I found a
shopping mall which was limited in its offerings however it had a cinema and an
English movie was playing; “The Life of Pi”, appropriately enough. Let’s do it.
So remember we’ve talked about how loud
life is on this side of the world? Yeah,
that does not stop for something as silly as a movie. Despite several signs, commercials on the
screen, and audible requests to turn off your phones, it was irrelevant. Not only did the phones ring, people answered
them and had full on normal volume (shouting for Indian) conversations. If they weren’t on their phones, they were
having full volume conversations with each other or shouting at their shouting
children. It was jaw-dropping
ridiculous. Why are you here?!?! Did you even want to SEE the show?! Do you understand the concept of WATCHING A
MOVIE?!?! Oh, and I forgot the other
part – you are given an assigned seat here in India
I was powerless. So I focused and tried to close one ear to
the chaos and focused and got through more or less all of it without
entertaining too many graphically murderous thoughts. Oh one more thing! They had an intermission. In a movie of less than two hours. An intermission. They paused the movie and turned on the
lights so people could get up and go get more food. At least that’s what it said on the screen
and that’s what people seemed to do. The
couple next to me had boxes of popcorn for the first half and bags full of
samosas for the second. The intermission
lasted a good 15 minutes and all I could do was put my head down and
breathe. What a country.
But what a great movie for me to watch
whilst here, just up the road from Pondicherry Pondicherry
That 2 hour bus trip turned into just over
4 so I quickly whizzed my way round the very French streets of a now Hollywood famous town and parked myself at a rocky beach
front lined with typical Indian food cart sellers. A more peaceful Indian coastal town. The street life poverty was slightly overshadowed
by white-washed touches of elegance as sculpted hotels and cafes boasting real
French boulangeries and “avenues” tunneled with leafy green trees drew your
eyes up and away from the unpleasantries.
People seemed a bit more relaxed but sellers a bit more aggressive. As I walked away from the alarming rate of a
tuk tuk driver, he spat out a response of “you have French money, this is not
expensive!” Wow. Pretty to look at, not anywhere I want to
be.
A couple of hours and I was back on a bus,
trying not to look at my quickly approaching train departure time. But as we neared Chennai, and the sun had set
at while ago, the traffic became denser then altogether ground to a complete
stop. The bus driver actually switched
off the engine. So I waited, enquired,
was somewhat reassured, then we were on the move again. I knew that I had left my room in complete
disarray and that for as late as everything else in India
Knowing that distress can be somewhat
helpful in appropriate doses in this country, I tried to keep mine in check,
stowing it up for when the situation became dire. Sheep-like I followed hundreds of others who
had also gotten off of log jammed buses and hoped that the wave of dust filled
push and shovers would take me to the
main bus station. I stopped several tuk
tuks along the way who either didn’t know where I wanted to go or were asking
an amount that would have taken me to the moon.
I knew the local bus I needed to take to get back to my place but even
that no one could seem to find for me.
And the time was flying by.
Although train tickets don’t cost a whole
heck of a lot, they are often booked to over-capacity so I knew that should I
miss this train, it would mean not only one but possibly two extra nights in a
city I already wasn’t too fond of as well as missing and having to rebook an overbooked
train I was to connect with after this train.
All of it was possible to reschedule and it would cost less than the end
of the world but it was the thought of being stuck that was pumping my heart. Come on Ganesha, get me out of here!
On a main road, weaving and fretting
through rush hour traffic (which is all hours of the day), waving my hands to
communicate my over-exhausted emotions, and with the help of a phone call to my
guesthouse and two shop keepers, we were able to convince a tuk tuk to take me
for the all the bills I had left in my wallet (which was a very fair Indian
price but an unacceptable foreigner price).
And it was on. At first he leaned
back and tried to Rico Suave chat me up until I shrieked over the squawking
horns and barreling down buses that he needed to go “FAST! FAST!
TRAIN COMING!” So fast we
went. Dangerously, several near misses,
engine screaming fast we went, until I could barely take another second
more. Tuk tuks will forever be my
nemesis.
In 10 agonizing minutes I threw all of my
belongings that had somehow exploded throughout the room inside my bag, threw
money at the reception, and threw myself into one last but thankfully readily
available tuk tuk to the train station.
I was down to minutes until departure.
As I dropped my bags on a seat, confirmed I was in the right space, took
a look around, and breathed out, the whistle blew and we were on our way. Holy Hanuman, I made it. How is it possible that I actually made
it?! Thanks to “Life of Pi”, Pondicherry
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