The travels begin!

Phew! Leaving Bombay was crazy- the same inexplicable psychosomatic feelings of anxiety I felt before leaving for India repeated- I was a wreck. But Batya and Erin saved the day when they came along in the taxi to the train station for my departure. The Indian economy really ought to send me some sort of certificate of commendation because I've spent so much here, and then I ended up packing up 4 bags of stuff to give away. You're welcome, Bharat.

Upon arriving at the train (now my third time taking the Konkan-Kumari Express), the passenger record listed my name as Jolly Berger. That's right, I will heretofore answer to the name Jolly Berger. I was seated in the first berth with 3 other women, including a nun from Mother Teresa's order- identifiable by their distinctive white saris with a blue border. I always thought that Mother Teresa wore a habit sort of thing with a separate head piece, but it turns out to just be the sari wrapped up and over. Up close, the material looks kinda like a tallis, or a dishcloth- depending on perspective. The other women settled in to sleep pretty quickly, and my plan to write in my journal was thwarted by the death of yet another pen. I've experienced a disproportionate amount of pen death in India. Who woulda thought? Anyway, I managed to get some decent sleep, and I didn't even fall off of the top bunk. The train is relatively comfortable, but it's a yucky feeling to awaken sticky and dirty. Stickydirty, as my mom would say. The train doesn't seem that grody looking at it (it's no Taj hotel, either), but somehow every time I've been on this train I end up with dirt caked under my fingernails. Ew.

I find the food and drink vendors on the train both amusing and annoying. Amusing in that they are essentially the Indian equivalent of American sports stadium vendors- instead of "popcorn, peanuts, hot dogs, cold beer here" it's "ch-chai, garam ch-chai, kofi, samosas, idli vada, chicken lolypop, masala durgh' (hot tea, coffee, fried pastries full of spiced potato and peas, a steamed patty of fermented rice, either a drumstick or something like satay, and spiced milk). Annoying in that they trod the aisles after I try to fall asleep, and they start again in the morning before I'm ready to wake up. I estimate that on one train, there are more than 60 of these vendors, including the guys in the pantry car. Maybe even more- it's hard to tell how long the train actually is. But that's why the Indian Railway System is the biggest employer in the world- over 1.5 million people.

I arrived in Margao, Goa, around 11. This is the same stop we took to go to Palolem Beach a week and a half ago, and there's really nothing to do in town. It's mostly a transportation hub, and just kinda a small town. I took a motorcycle taxi to a tourist office only to discover that private busses to Hampi and/or Hospet are entirely discontinued during the off-season. Disappointing. So then we went to the government bus station, where they have a "semi-deluxe" bus leaving tonight at 7, arriving in Hospet at 5am. We'll see, but I imagine that "semi-deluxe" essentially means "not the most uncomfortable ride of your life, but don't get your hopes up." The seats don't recline so much... so sleeping will be interesting. I'll be sure to include a snoring report in my next dispatch.

I've spent the rest of the time in the basement internet shop (not a cafe, it's just a small musty room with 5 computers and a gas leak) of the main tourist hotel, which claims to not have a baggage storage facility. That's a major pain since somehow I ended up with way too heavy bags. Besides the normal email routine, I finished up the remaining work for the Mobile Creches database, so that's good to be concluded. Now I've got another 2.5 hours to kill... hopefully I can find a hotel willing to rent me a room for an hour or two to take a much-needed shower. And lunch. Lunch would be good.

Signing off for now, I'm Jolly Berger.