HIGHLY INFLAMMABLE.

(a sign I saw today, posted on the back of a petrol truck.)

Still alive and finally healthy India!

Last Thursday, we all parted ways in Goa -- Matilda to Mumbai to head back to Oz, Nat to the hippy town of Hampi, and yours truly to Pune. This involved a rickshaw to point A, a 12-hour bus ride to point B, and a taxi trip out to Santvana Children's Home, in the slums of Pune. Thanks to the rickshaw and taxi never showing up, I enjoyed lots of quality bonding time with my 30 lb backpack.. walking 3 kms to get a rickshaw, and roaming the streets of downtown Pune at 5am trying to find a cab. Good times!

Long story short, I got to Santvana to discover something much different than expected; 27 very precious kids that I got to spend lots of great cuddle time with, but an extremely aloof 'doctor' who made it very clear I wasn't needed or welcome. Two nights sleeping in a storage closet and being blatantly ignored by all the adults and I decided it was time to leave.

Which brings us to a fun little thing called, 'Being Waitlisted on a Train in India'. By booking your ticket only 3 days in advance, particularly on sleeper trains, they will give you a ticket and allow you on the train, but you have no coach, bunk, or seat assignment. You could end up sleeping on your bags next to the bathroom, in the hallway, between a family of 20, or hanging halfway out the door of the train. Ultimately, you're at the mercy of your fellow passengers who have actual seat numbers on their tickets.

Enter Biju. I get on the train and find a well-dressed guy to ask about my waiting list status. It sounds incredibly prejudiced but I've found that usually the better dressed someone is, the more educated/helpful/fluent in English they are. This guy tells me just to look for open seats (the train is already overflowing) or wait for the conductor (who usually does a ticket check sometime in the first 5 hours of the trip). As I walk away eyeing a tempting spot on the floor outside the latrine, he calls me back and tells me to take his bunk for now. WHAT? Is it possible I just found the one nice, friendly, polite, non-sleazy male in India?! And on a 20-hour train ride to Bangalore?! Such luck! God absolutely organized that one. Biju was a total gentleman and 3 hours into the trip we were sharing his bunk, eating spicy bajas with curry, and talking about life goals and his girlfriend whom he is still madly in love with after 3 years together. She works at a bank in Mumbai while he has a software job in Bangalore, and this weekend he spent 42 hours on a train just to spend 4 HOURS with his girl. Awesome.

If someone were only in India for one day and wanted a true taste of the country, I would tell them to spend it on a train. It's like one huge family reunion with grandmas cuddled up snoring in their saris, babies bouncing on the seats, kids running up to shake your hands, men belching and horking loogies out the window, and all the mamas laughing loudly into the wee hours. Add bizarre smells coming through the windows and bathroom vents, and the sounds of at least 5 different languages being spoken, while men bump down the aisles with huge trays of food and pots of liquid yelling "chai chai chai! soup soup soup! bajas bajas bajas!'"

Sleeping was easier than expected such crunched quarters, until an old woman started running through the train wailing loudly at 4am. Biju didn't speak her language but found out from someone who did that her husband had gotten off at one of the stops while she was sleeping. What?!

I got into Bangalore at 11am this morning and am back in the lovely home of Shanthi and family. We visited ACCEPT today (www.acceptindia.org) where I'm hoping to volunteer the rest of this week. Amazing place.

Pictures of Pune on the way!
Love to you all.