Konkan to Kochi

Tuesday 19 February

It is now one week since I arrived in India and I'm on the train again. I was due to leave Margao, at 23.10 last night, but predictably it is late, having already travelled over 700 kmd from somewhere "up north". Mangoan Station, as it's called, is very busy despite having just two main platforms, and it seems every other train is late too. Maybe the railwaymen are practising for Wednesday's general strike. But there is an ingenious machine with a touch screen which shows the current location of every Konkan Railway train "in rail time". So I touch in my train's and station name, and it tells me that the Netravati Express arrived at Kudal at 22.50 and is running 1 hr. 28 mins. late. It also says "trains may loose or gain time", though I hope they're not too loose.

Station cartoon, one of many

 I prop myself against a wall until a bench-sleeper momentarily tucks his knees under his chin,  whereupon I pounce and gain a seat. This is where Chris Tarrant got invited into the Ladies Rest Room (which means waiting room, not the American usage) to see the cartoons painted on the walls. Not being a celeb, I get no invitation and content myself with photographing the Beryl Cook-ish (remember her?) cartoons outside. I amuse myself with the camera - station dogs asleep, rates of porterage (Rs. 30 for up to 128 kg. of "head luggage" at a small station, but different rates for big stations and 2 or 4 wheeled hand carts), and one saying "Do not use plastic - it is non-biodegradeable." Should tell an English supermarket that. Even after midnight, all the offices, food outlets, etc. are open and doing brisk business.

AC2. My berth top back, curtain across

Eventually the train pulls in, exactly 1 hr. 28 mins late, punctual in its unpunctuality. Indian trains being long (21 or 27 carriages), there is a chart to show the stopping point of each numbered carriage, from which I've deduced that Coach A1 will be fourth from the front. It's not, it's no 17, fourth from the back, so I have a long walk. Inside 2AC Class, it is dark and the air is heavy with snoring. All the curtains are drawn and I can't find the numbers to locate berth 30. Luckily there's an Englishman with a torch who finds it for me. No 30 is a snug (i.e. narrow) upper outside berth, the least popular type, my penalty for making a last minute change of booking. To re-use my previous description (Amristsar 2011) it's like travelling on the top shelf of a 60 mph cupboard.

I sleep well and don't wake until the first of a regular procession of vendors comes along shouting his wares - tea and coffee, water, nuts and biscuits, newspapers, but no designer wear or spy pens (see last Weds). Coincidentally, there's a story in today's Indian Express about an eletrician in Trivandrum who installed a spy camera in his neighbour's bathroom and watched the "visuals" on his TV next door. "It's all right, officer," he explained, "I'm just keeping an eye on any suspicious activities." Quite so.

Police not popular at the ferry jetty?

We arrive at 3 pm, having made up time. A rickshaw driver hails me on the platform and offers me a "discount" rate of Rs. 200 to the ferry jetty to cross the harbour to old Fort Cochin. Not wishing to be caught out, I decline. The official fare is Rs. 20. On the ferry, the gent next to me is moaning about the impending general strike. "The trouble is," he says, "the government can't govern. They're all buggers. Should have left the British in charge. They gave us everything and then we kicked them out." I wonder if my informant ever worked for the Mail?

Cochin's famous fishing nets, said to be unchanged since the 14th century

After sampling a few hotels and homestays, I wind up at Mother Tree B & B. It's only Rs. 700, including breakfast, and though the room is tiny it has an antique posted bedstead with a truly comfy mattress. It's the mattress than clinches it. More on Cochin (now Kochi) tomorrow.

Fancy a job in Kochi / Cochin?