Going to Goa

Believe it or not the train journey from Ernakulem to Goa was pretty none eventful (by my standards).  I took sleeper class, which means that you get your own bed, although the term bed might be an over exaggeration.  It is just a big hard seat hanging from the ceiling (equivalent of the luggage rack in the UK).  My face felt like it was only inches away from the ceiling (because it was) and dangerously close to the fans.  I’m not sure if I was more scared about my face being sliced into pieces by the fans or of falling out of the sodding thing   I suppose you get what you pay for.  The train ticket was only about a fiver so I don’t really have any place to moan (although I’m bloody well going to).

There was a young boy travelling with his parents in my carriage (no, that's not a euphemism).  He was only about 10 years old but was quite possibly the most annoying little brat known to man.  He insisted on whistling (I hate whistling), whining and showing off the whole journey.  After about an hour I was ready to throw the little fucker off the train.  It didn’t help that I had no food with me (I was starving.  You’ll be surprised to learn that there are no buffet carriages on Indian trains) and had to watch him stuff his little fat face with an endless supply of food.  . 

At about 4am a couple of Swedish girls woke me up (no, it wasn’t an erotic lesbian dream) to say that we were at Goa.  I’m not sure how they knew I was going there but thank sweet Jesus on a keyring that they woke me.  I am quite clearly a novice at this travelling lark.  I thought Goa was the last stop.  Left to my own devices I would have ended up in Delhi or somewhere.

It was pitch black on the train so I had to gather my things as quickly as I could in the dark (whilst half asleep) then had to negotiate my way down from the hanging bed/luggage rack, all before the train pulled away. My arse was twitching like a bunny’s nose!  In my panic I left my book, which is an absolutely pisser as it was great (The hundred year old man who climbed out of the window – Jonas Jonasson.  I can thoroughly recommend the first 157 pages,), but I managed to get off the train just in time before it left for god knows where.  Phew!  Breathe!