Backtracking to Bangkok
　

Embracing the smooth sailing out of Jaisalmer across the desert once again, our tranquility was disrupted when a deep 'BOOM' ressonated against the earth and our attention was turned towards the Army Camp site on the side of the road. Tank target practice, apparently. 'BOOM!'. Jesus! A line of tanks were positioned less than 200m away shooting at what looked like an old townsite through the rising clouds of tainted missile smoke in the (all too near) distance. We exchanged looks of disbelief, laughing loudly as Adam pulled back on the throttle to get us out of the way of any pending danger. How often (thankfully) are we ever going to hear tanks go off at such close range? India. Entertainment 24-7, guaranteed.
We slugged on and on to Bikaner, the long day's ride saw us arriving well beyond nightfall. Hedging our bets at one wrong left turn, we were redirected to the highway which we dutifully followed. The highway however, abruptly turned into a building site. A new freeway bypass was being built over the top of the existing road which to note, was still in full use (no diversions for trucks or anything). We zig zagged through the potholes and sand, whilst narrowly avoiding oncoming traffic also spasming its way through the huge haphazard arrangement of concrete pillars and reinforced posts with iron rods sticking out of the top like some obscure industrial flower arrangement. What the hell was going on? Again fits of laughter...only in India. We stopped at the first hotel we came across. It was a classy Indian businessman type hotel, although of a very different 'class' to the Raj Residency in Chennai! The Bell Boys hovered relentlessly as we checked in, each with curiosity and disbelief on their faces which we gathered to be a lack of foreigner stays within the hotel. We were pleasantly surprised with the standard which lowered the pain of paying double of our normal rate. The room's were exquisitely clean, had a tiled bathroom in Botticelli-esque Venus figurines, and last of all, room service! We were either just famished or the food was fantastic; possibly the number 1 Thali to date.
Waking early to pack, eager for the delights in store at the Rat Temple we wasted no time. Finding our way out of Bikaner was even more complex than the bizarre entry as we seemed to be sent around in circles by the arching streets. Sore with aches and pains from the previous day we were also disappointed that we didn't have enough time to explore Bikaner properly. It looks like a beautiful city with a big flash fort in the centre of town, markets, a lake, river and other temple ruins. We promptly rode out to the holy temple of the sacred rodents, which took the best part of an hour. We parked the bike and were immediately surrounded by begging children. Feeling cautious about leaving all our bags and gear loaded on the bike unattended, we tag-teamed the temple viewing. Lana went first, checking in her hiking boots at the kiosk and passing through the metal detector entrance. Expecting to see rats crawling everywhere like some Indiana Jones nightmare it was all rather disappointing. Yes there were rats wherever you looked but not quite in the density your imagination had already ran away with. What your imagination had duly neglected was the filth and smell that a building overridden with free roaming rats exudes, making that wet sock feeling from some unidentified liquid substance on the tiled floor, somehow all the more terrible. Large stainless steel dishes of milk were positioned inside in the wings of the temple and before the idols of the Hindu gods for the furry little rodents who politely congregated around the edge of the bowl. A steady flow of worshippers entered with food, incense and gifts as they each prayed and splashed milk over their faces, some drinking from the same bowls as the rats themselves. The belief is that if you see a white rat, you have very good fortune. Three minutes was plenty enough for Lana, white rat or no white rat. Adam's experience coincidently mirrored Lana's with the only exception that he felt compelled to give one of the Holy creatures a nudge with his toe to measure the reaction of the local worshippers, as well as convey his pure hatred of these pesky vermin.
Leaving the desertous town, our destination of the day was the return to Pushkar. Knowing when you are on to a good thing we revisited Sun n Moon guest house for another short night and some of their famous Gnocchi and the potent Bang Lassi! A good night's rest was needed as we had set ourselves the greatest challenge since embarking on our motorcycle journey, to reach Delhi in one day.
Delhi was still approximately 400KM/ 9 hours away. This was our longest day riding yet and did we feel it, (or not as our buttocks may argue)! We bypassed Ajmer, circumcised Jaipur, and less than three hours later hit the outskirts of Delhi. Here we got lucky. We navigated our way through one of the largest cities of the world, at rush hour, trouble free, and churned out at high speed through heavy traffic out into the familiar territory of Pahar Gang. Recognising the chaotic market areas straight away we located the safe refuge of Mama G's Evergreen Guest House and parked up. Mama G was pleased to see us again and seemed to be in better health, we were pleased to be off 'Chivas' and walking again. Numb but proud of our efforts we checked in and unpacked our gear in the small but cosy bedroom. Adam could hear a fight going on in the room on the stairwell and went down to see what was happening. As he knocked on the door about five or six local lads opened up all looking startled. They were all drunk and appeared to be singling out one and giving him a thorough beating. There was blood, rice and whisky everywhere and the room smelt rancid. It looked like a squatter's place, although we later found out it was a rental for these poor lads from Nepalese villages working in India.
In the end Adam told them in no uncertain terms that it was time to back off the lad, sort it out and move on. For the record that's not what Adam really said however some things are better left undocumented. Adam also had to alert poor old Mama G who went in after Adam and kicked some good old fashioned Indian woman ass by slapping each one involved and cursing them in Hindi, rendering at least one of the apologetic and by now sheepish offenders in tears! Not to be messed with is old Mama G.
We had 3 days in Delhi before our train to Varanasi to arrange storage for the bike, having also changed our minds about the 500cc Enfield purchase (not knowing the bike or the mechanic well enough or having the cash spare). We caught the overnight train to Varanasi, which left on time bringing us back full circle to our starting point in India the following morning, and the surface-friendly Ganga Yogi Lodge.
Our two days in Varanasi was unfortunately not enough. We had grown quite attached to this amazing city and it's familiarity. After a visit to the post office to send off our sleeping bags and down jackets (which we deemed we would not be requiring for the tropical heat of South East Asia) and a few souvenirs, we dropped in at the shop of a fellow Enfield owner who had assisted Adam when he had run out of petrol in the street a couple of months earlier. Adam assisted him in return, providing some kind words of encouragement for the newsletter for his organisation which helps young people gain vocational skills. Ajeet is a very tall, handsome and bright young man who has taken on his father's furniture business. He has two older sisters and one younger. He loves his Enfield motorbike but is constantly claiming that people percieve him to be too tall and too thin to ride such a powerful machine much to Adam's amusement. He doesn't care however and is a real goer and rides hard! We caught up over a coffee and chatted for a while about where we had been, the problems we had with mechanics and how next time we would like to ride up towards Kashmir, Ladakh and Leh toward the Pakistani border. He told us it was his dream to be able to go and ride up in that part of India, so we agreed that on our next trip he would be joining us.
Ajeet invited us for dinner at his family's home across the street that evening, and of course we could not refuse. It was a lovely evening. We ate with both Ajeet and his father. The girls had done all of the cooking and it was brilliant. They even treated us with Indian sweets for starters and dessert. Dessert was grated carrot boiled with milk and sugar and was simply delicious! One to remember for home for sure :) Ajeet's mother talked to us the most (in Hindi) and by the time we left, having known only a few words of the the language ourselves we surprisingly managed to communicate freely for the most part. Ajeet informed us we were the only foreigners they had ever had in their home, which was very humbling. The girls had been out to a birthday party and returned to meet us, but before they left again to re-join the celebrations Anjeli, the middle sister presented Lana with a gift to formally welcome her into the home. Lana was handed a pair beautiful golden earrings with green and red jewels in a small hexagonal glass box. They were very pretty and very Indian in style, and Lana was really touched by the thoughtfulness of the gift. Anjeli makes jewellery as a hobby and has an obvious talent. She showed us some other beautiful pieces from a small cupboard which were equally impressive, although we didn't deem it appropriate at this point to mention that Adam does some wonderful beaded jewellery :)
The following evening we headed to the train station in good time for our overnight-train to Kolkata. With an hour or so to kill we tried to find out which platform the train was due to depart from, however the train was apparently delayed and it was impossible to find anyone to give us any accurate information as to how long. Even the station master was absent and disinterested when finally cornered. With the web page still confirming the train to be running on time, we eventually ascertained that the train would not be departing before 12:30am (midnight). We teamed up with an Australian guy who was taking the same train and had just spent two months in Rishikesh at an Ashram made famous by the Beatles who retreated there for several months in the 60's, probably in preparation of the Sargeant Pepper album. It all sounded a bit full on and proper out-there 'find yourself' hippy really, but the night was still young enough for extensive discussions on the meaning of life aside from Monty Python's interpretation. We were not sure how 'One more pate?' would have gone down, or up for that matter...? All heading out across the street to a restaurant for dinner, to kill time we dragged it out for as long as possible until we were politely asked to leave. Re-dodging the deadly traffic once again, we all crossed the main road in front of the station in virtually complete darkness. Here at this hour the trucks are more like high-speed bulldozers and this proved to be very problematic. Huge and monstrous vehicles with disco lights flashing on all sides; even without the deafening blare of the horns they pose intimidating. By this stage our eyes and heads were very weary and pining for the comfort of a pillow.
Back in the impersonal safety of the station we decided rather than roll ourselves out amongst the hundreds of bodies strewn across the foyer and inside the main entrance, we would go directly to the platform. The hours ticked by slowly. We were subjected to continuous announcements from the loudspeakers, each one repeated in Hindi then in English at least three or four times per train...but never our train. Adam managed to politely ignore and disengage from the ongoing spiritual conversation right at the oppotune moment, as the continuous opinionated philosophical ramblings from our new acquaintance Eric seemed to roll on and on throughout the night. (It became almost enough to make you never want to enter an Ashram). We sat on the platform with the big fat rats scrurrying around, piles of rubble and sand behind us in front of the 'waiting room' which was itself too disgusting to actually wait inside. On one trip to the toilet Lana discovered that some poor soul had been too desperate to hold out for a vacant cubicle and had just let loose on the floor next to the hand basins.
We drank tea to curb the boredom, ate bourbon biscuits and walked aimless circuits of the platforms. The red digital clocks visible on platform 4 and platform 6 were 11 minutes apart...which were we to believe? 01:30am came (01:41 on the Farside) and so did our train! We only had to wait for it to move on to Allahabad (about 4 hours away) and turn around and come back for us! It was a development at least...our train had been sighted! Lana returned from a platform circuit to 'look' at 'our' train with a smile, proclaiming she had seen our carriage, but it was full so we couldn't sneak on and ride to Allahabad and back through the night. So we waited. Eric talked. Lana fought to keep her eyes open. Adam pretended to sleep, or read, or daydream, or be insane to avoid participation with the intense life-coaching Ashram experience lecture. The hours ticked by, we had to force ourselves not to look at the clock, not to guess, just to wait. We were glad we'd left 2.5 days to get ourselves to the airport in Kolkata! At 7:30am the other (fully booked) train to Kolkata arrived and departed. This was encouraging...the announcements now started to include our train, and explained it was delayed...yes, we know! We've been waiting 13 hours on this dirty platform, fully aware of the delay...but when? How much longer? The time estimations got smaller...08:45 in rolls the Punjab Express! Whoohoo! Delerious in the morning sunlight we stood on the platform...our escape from this wretched station, a space to sleep...and wonder on how a train manages to be 15 hours late? Now only 18 hours to go. The joys of public transport are worldwide!
We find our carriage, climb aboard, briefly greet our co-inhabitants and indicate we would very much like to swap our tickets for the top bunks...we needed sleep. The train rolls on, we sleep most of the day, waking up only to read, and have dinner. Adam was plagued persistently through the wire grating between him and the next bunk by some young guys who had been drinking. They want to see the photos on the laptop, then they want a movie, then it appears they just want to touch Adam...all the while testing his patience. A little brown arm dangles through the gap in the grating every so often. Adam takes the stroking of the face head and arms and the extra attention well, considering. Lana pretends to sleep or read, and tries hard not to laugh. The journey is scheduled to take 14 hours. We figured even if it takes 24 hours we will still make our flight, so all is rosy. 18 hours or so later we arrive at an unexpectedly quiet and desolate Kolkata station. The Punjab Express train has somehow managed to be over 19 hours late. It's nothing for the Guiness Book but we were suitably impressed. 4:30am appears to be the witching hour of Kolkata. We took a cab direct to the airport. There didn't seem to be any point hanging around to witness the morning rush hour and the heat of the day. Kolkata at this time of night was very strange. Where on earth have all those millions of people gone? The streets were clear of traffic and people. It was dark and calm and cool...were we in the right city at all? Yes, familiarity struck at the 'International' airport. The number one in the Most Boring Airport poll. We had to wait for the only cafe to open, (says the man behind the counter reading a magazine in the brightly lit very 'open' looking cafe). We sat and waited some more. Only 6 hours to check in. Coffee. Dodgy wrap. Waiting. Security, baggage check, more security, more waiting (this time high class; with lounge, cricket on TV, vending machine etc). Boarding. Bangkok, here we come! Fresh as daisies, thank f*** for that!!!!