September 12th
We were scheduled to make the journey from New Delhi to Mussoorie; a mountain station in the Himalayan foothills founded by the British in the 1800's. Two taxis picked the five us up from our hotel at 5:15 am to take us to a major train station in New Delhi. Although our train wasn't scheduled to leave until 7:20 am, Russ wanted us to leave early, because "it's India, and anything can happen." Famous last words. One of the taxis came to a clunking halt in what was essentially the fast lane on the highway, due to a flat tire. Luckily after a quick fix by the driver,we were on our way to the train station.
Yeah. About the train station. Upon exiting the taxis, we were instantly swarmed by a host of men, young and old, pushing, shoving, and shouting to crowd around us, eager to porter our bags (for a fee) in to the station. It felt like we had to fight to haul our bags through people, broken meridians, piles of trash, and a sea of rickshaws and taxis. Inside the station smelled like urine, stray dogs skulked about, and people waiting for trains and beggars alike were strewn about the floor, literally in piles. Before being pushed along by security, women and small children begged for money, as well as a couple of men using their hands to walk.
The contrast between beauty and desperation is both sharp and overt here.
We were scheduled to make the journey from New Delhi to Mussoorie; a mountain station in the Himalayan foothills founded by the British in the 1800's. Two taxis picked the five us up from our hotel at 5:15 am to take us to a major train station in New Delhi. Although our train wasn't scheduled to leave until 7:20 am, Russ wanted us to leave early, because "it's India, and anything can happen." Famous last words. One of the taxis came to a clunking halt in what was essentially the fast lane on the highway, due to a flat tire. Luckily after a quick fix by the driver,we were on our way to the train station.
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| Train station chaos |
Yeah. About the train station. Upon exiting the taxis, we were instantly swarmed by a host of men, young and old, pushing, shoving, and shouting to crowd around us, eager to porter our bags (for a fee) in to the station. It felt like we had to fight to haul our bags through people, broken meridians, piles of trash, and a sea of rickshaws and taxis. Inside the station smelled like urine, stray dogs skulked about, and people waiting for trains and beggars alike were strewn about the floor, literally in piles. Before being pushed along by security, women and small children begged for money, as well as a couple of men using their hands to walk.
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| Nate and Russ, solving the world's problems |
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| Men with Cycle Rickshaws, eager for business at the railway's edge |
The contrast between beauty and desperation is both sharp and overt here.
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