I don’t have too many criticisms of the Lonely Planet, but I think they missed a crucial warning. Other travelers we met along the way seemed to know. So how did we end up on a general-class sleeper train? Had I known what a horrific nightmare it was going to be, I would have re-routed the entire itinerary and traveled around Rajasthan counter-clockwise. I blame it on you, Lonely Planet!
The first thing I saw upon boarding was the open door of the train bathroom… and there was *#@! all over the floor. As the night is progressing, everything is conspiring to keep me awake and make me feel profoundly ill-at-ease. Random jumpy Indian music on transistor radios. Coarse tuberculin coughing. Children randomly screaming and whining. Man on the adjacent bunk staring at me. Bugs. Weird food smells. Overpowering whiffs of the latrine (I mean, like my nose is a lead pipe that is being pumped with raw sewage). Growling snores. Rattle of the train. Yeah, I’m freaked out. We’re the only westerners on the whole damn train. So everyone and their cousin has noticed us. If someone had thieving instincts, they’d come straight for our bunks, I’m sure.
I think that guy is still staring at me. I’m afraid to look.
You couldn’t pay me a million rupees to step foot in the bathroom, either.
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