August 3 - India: Gwalior to Khajuraho, Madhya Pradesh
Change in Plans
Jon has given me his cold, and now we are both miserable. We woke up this morning sneezing, coughing, and sniffling and began to pack for our train ride to Jhansi. This is what we were going to do for the next few days:
We really didn't feel like doing a whirlwind tour of Orchha, although it's supposed to be a beautiful city, and we didn't want to get up early one morning for the trek back to Jhansi. We really felt like going to a nice hotel and sleeping for 3 days. But we had train tickets for this morning's train so we had to leave. So as we were sitting on the platform waiting for the Shatabdi Express to arrive, we decided to change our plans: Skip Orchha and try to catch an afternoon bus to Khajuraho.
Now this is no easy decision. The bus ride to Khajuraho is 4 1/2 hours in a non air-conditioned bus and we're both sick and miserable. But our rationale is this: either we can feel like crap and lay around in a hotel room, or we can feel like crap and get a terrible travel day out of the way. We opted for the latter and hauled our sniffling, sneezing, coughing, aching, stuffy-head, feverish selves onto the 11:00 bus to Khajuraho.
Special guest appearance by Jon:
The Bus Ride
So we traveled India-style today. The bus is sort of a combination of a luxury motor coach, only without the air conditioning and assorted other luxuries, and the matatu that we took from Arusha to Moshi (click here for the matatu experience we had in Tanzania!). Actually, the bus we took was really just a bigger version of a matatu with about 50 or 60 actual seats. So we manage to get ourselves and our backpacks onto the bus with no real problems (backpacks went into the 'trunk' of the bus) and get to our assigned seats thinking, "Assigned seats? Maybe this won't be so bad". In the next 10 minutes the bus became more and more crowded, with the conductor standing near the door. Once every seat seems to be taken we get underway.
The bus that we are taking is the 11am bus from Jhansi to Khajaraho and is the 'Super Fast Express', meaning minimal stops along the way (as opposed to a Local bus which can take over 6 hours, our ride should only be 4 1/2 hours). After navigating the busy and crowded streets of Jhansi for about 15 minutes, the bus makes its first stop...at the bus station. Since it's nearly lunchtime now and we didn't have a bite to eat for breakfast, I decide to beat back the throngs of people trying to get onto the bus and run to the nearest vendor selling bananas (we have found that bananas make a nice substitute for either breakfast or lunch, and are always available at the train and bus stations), leaving Heidi to guard my precious seat. In the less than 5 minutes that it took me to purchase 6 bananas for 6 Rs ($.08) the bus has filled beyond capacity. Nobody seems to have gotten off of the bus so there are more and more people filling the aisle of the bus, starting in the back. I manage to get back to my seat just as the the 4th or 5th person asks Heidi if anyone is sitting next to her, thinking that with every seat on the bus taken and the aisle seemingly filled to capacity there is no way more people are getting on this bus.
Random Bus Stops
The bus drives for about 5 minutes, and once we are sufficiently out of town and in the middle of nowhere the conductor yells for the driver to stop the bus. Once stopped, the conductor begins to check peoples' tickets. It seems that the more efficient method of performing this 10 minute exercise while the bus is moving (and thus creating some form of wind in the bus!) isn't an option. Once everyone is soaked with sweat, and has also soaked the person sitting next to them, the bus gets underway again. We proceed for another 45 minutes until we get to some remote backwater village whose only claim to fame seems to be that it is located at the crossroads between BFE and the middle of nowhere, and is apparently a prime location for a bus stop. The bus comes to a halt, the driver gets out and we assume that we've stopped because he needed to relieve himself or something because there is no way more people are getting on this bus!
More people manage to stuff themselves into the bus, about 10 more to be exact. When we get underway the only way that everyone can fit onto the bus is for the door to be left open so that 4 people can hang outside of the bus for the remainder of the trip.
Then it starts to rain. Remember that this is monsoon season in India, and thus far we have been blessed with no real rain to speak of (fingers are still crossed). It doesn't just rain, it pours. Being in the front row we also have a good view out of the front windshield and can readily observe that the windshield wipers are making a pathetic attempt at wiping the rain away; perhaps they might be more successful if they actually made contact with at least a small portion of the window they are supposed to be cleaning! I decide not to look through the windshield anymore...
Communitay Propertere
The bus ride also reacquainted us with a concept that one of my old roommates taught us after college (I have managed to work PJ into the journal entry!): "Communitay Propertere". The concept was applied to beer that was left over after the end of the weekend; any beer left in the refrigerator on Monday was considered Communitay Propertere and was thus available to anyone that wanted to partake. It was an interesting concept apparently loosely translated from the Latin phrase for 'community property' and we all adopted it shortly thereafter, even applying it to food in the refrigerator, rented videos that had not yet been returned, practically anything that was left lying around and had some sort of value.
Apparently they are well acquainted with the phrase in India! Heidi and I both were reading our books during the bus ride when the person sitting next to Heidi made a motion toward her papyrus bookmark that we had picked up in Egypt, so Heidi handed it to him. Next he made a comment about her book so she handed it to him thinking that he wanted to read the back cover. It turns out that he actually wanted to read the book to perhaps see if he would like it! After 15 or 20 minutes he handed the book back to her, apparently satisfied in whatever it was that he read. A few minutes later the person standing in the aisle/practically sitting in my lap motions to her bookmark as well...having learned her lesson, Heidi gave him the bookmark and then buried her nose in her book trying to look as serious as possible. He never got the chance to ask her if he could read it too.
The End of the Road
About 3 1/2 hours after we started, the bus finally makes its first stop that results in a net reduction of the occupants. The bus has seats for maybe 50 or 60 but there must have been at least 75 or 85 people on the bus. Gear that had been on the roof (in the rain) can come into the bus now, and the owner of at least one wet bag now has the chance to determine the wetness of his belongings. I guess it pays to be early, at least that way your gear makes it into the trunk!
A little over 4 1/2 hours after we started, we make it into the bus station in Khajaraho. Once off of the bus we regain sensation in our legs again just as the touts overwhelm us with "Rickshaw to any hotel, 10Rs", "Taxi to any hotel, 20Rs", and of course, "Come stay at xxx hotel or yyy hotel, come look at the pictures that I have right here!". Well, we already have a reservation for one night at the Hotel Greenwood but it's not for 2 nights from now so we decide to start there first and see if we can get a good rate for the 2 nights that we don't already have arranged. We shield ourselves from the hotel and rickshaw touts by negotiating the fare for a taxi (supply is high and demand is relatively low so the consumer prevails in this instance) and get out of the bus station.
The hotel, as it turns out, is quite new and very nice looking from the outside - two things that usually translate to mean 'expensive'. But it's the low season, and again, there is a tremendous supply of hotels and not a lot of people clamoring to visit India during the hot summer monsoon months. A quick negotiation ensues and an agreement is reached. (By this time, of course, we feel like such crap that we would have paid a premium to stay anywhere). We head to our room, shower and nap for several hours and try to plan the next couple of days.