When all hell breaks loose

No sooner do I get back to Puttaparthi and get my Internet connection re-established than I find that CIBC bank account has been raided. I don't like doing banking on other peoples machines so I hadn't checked any of my accounts for the time I was away. Very unpleasant surprise.

Anyways, I only had current income in that account, I keep my investment and savings in other banks so they only got one month's income and I've got the necessary processes underway to direct my income to other banks and set up other ways to access funds in India. Amazing what you can do on line these days, both good and bad. Luckily I had sent money to Remi for my trip so they didn't get that. The only real problem other than loosing the money is; that was the only Canadian ATM card I had found worked in any Indian ATM, sometimes, otherwise I would have closed that account long ago, CIBC is the pits when it comes to customer service..

So it's been a busy time slaving over the old Internet and firing off frantic e-mails to my son to go over to my apartment and give the super some cash because the rent cheque was about to bounce. Worst possible time for it to happen. Ram is in India too or I could have had him sort it out. Anyways, done the necessary to cauterize the wound. Now I just have to figure out how to get some cash into India for this month. State Bank is probably going to be slow, India doesn't do Internet banking yet and it takes a long time to get bits of paper across the ocean. Hate to do it but I'll probably have to get my son to send me some money by Western Union. Remi got a little warning that they are going after his account also, his son Mark had some really good suggestions for things that you can do on the Internet. The guy is quite the resource. Remi is a lot more vulnerable than me, he doesn't have very much income even by Indian standards.

So his paranoia has substantial grounds in fact. I still think it's a waste of good energy to grouse about it all the time.

Anyways, despite the money hassle it's been good to get back, hang out with friends, go to the library. Been trying to find venues in my home town where I can sell my stuff for the summer, a couple of music fairs will do, instead of just relying on word of mouth, e-bay and home sales. Want to pick up the pace a bit. Found some lovely soft and warm wool shawls in lovely pastel shades at a reasonable price for my Canadian customers who are not in the least impressed with super thin pashminas, not even if they are very nicely embroidered. Even in summer evenings get cool.

Home again, home again, jigitty jig

Feb 1

It's dark. Something has changed. The train has stopped moving. What time is it? I peer groggily at my clock. 6 AM. Oh my God, it's Preshanthi Nilayam or maybe not, maybe its Anantapor. I struggle my bags down the passageway and peer out into the darkness. There is a sign there, but I can't read it. My glasses, under the pillow, rush back, try to locate my compartment, if this is Puttaparthi it's a very short stop. Find the glasses, rush back, still can't read the sign, it's all in Hindi and Telegu so I call out to a guy on the platform, is this Preshanti Nilayam? Yes, it's the conductor, good, the train won't move off until he gives the all clear. I can get my bags off without breaking an arm. Of course there are no porters, they are all up at the entrance gossiping with the taxi drivers. The little wheelie is fine but that big bag won't steer worth a damn, I make my wavering way up to the entrance and all the porters and taxi drivers wake up and mob me at once. I'm back.

Good to have my own apartment to come to and not have to get off the train all buzzed out and groggy and try to find a hotel.

Well, that was interesting, not at all what I expected. And I still have to get up to Goa and do some business in the near future but I'll do it the easy way and just fly out of Bangelore. Meanwhile, back to work here in Puttaparthi. I have to get a bed and mattress to put my new sheets on.

My internet connection works again. Have to go down to the shop and ask why it would not on the road. Suposed to have a roaming feature. Have yo find out why that is not working for me.

Train time

Jan 31

I head down to the railway station two and a half hours early determined that if that wait list ticket can't be confirmed I am going to head out to the Volvo bus stand and book on to the next bus to Bangelore even if it doesn't leave until evening and I have to rent a hotel room for the day. I need some sleep. People were partying, loud voices, feminine squeals, loud TV until after four in the morning. I just wish they had been doing that the night before when police came waking me out of a deep sleep to check if I had a man in my room. Get it all over at once. Not a great hotel.

Anyways, enough said, I am in a foul mood. I guess it shows, even the guy at the ticket desk looks first abashed when I ask if I am going to be taking this train or getting my money back and then relieved when he checks his terminal and finds there is a berth for me. Glad I'm there early, have to wait for the train doors to be unlocked, but I am first on the carriage and have space and time to haul the little wheelie out of the big bag when it turns out it is too fat to fit under the seat.

I'm alone for a while, then while I am eating lunch the conductor puts a young couple with a baby into the compartment. Works out great. I finish lunch, baby finishes bottle, I crawl up into my berth and sleep, baby sleeps, parents sleep. Turns out they had a late night too. They are a young NRI couple in Visag for the lady's sister's wedding. They live in California. So odd to hear that soft American accent in India. Such a nice little baby, so quiet and content, five months old. The baby in the next compartment is the exact opposite, the journey is punctuated by frequent shrieks of childhood outrage. When the father brings her for a visit I can see why, bouncy bouncy, push her face up into strangers faces, squeak squeak with the toys, this poor kid is so overstimulated she doesn't know whether she is coming or going. Can't be still for a second, wiggles and squirms like a eel non-stop. She even falls off the seat onto the floor in the next compartment. I wince. Serious wails when she finally gets her breath back from that one. Meanwhile the little boy just smiles and gurgles, waves his legs about and snoozes through everything.

Chance Encounters

One way or another it is my last evening in Visag. Went down to the Train station the morning to check the status of my ticket. Still waitlist 1, no one has dropped out yet so I have to start thinking of alternate strategies. If I'm still waitlisted an hour before train time tomorrow I'll just get my money back and go book on one of the Volvo busses, I'm tired of waiting around.

Kind of frustrating day today. Got a lift down to the beach, far end near that sub parked on the beach, wanted to do a tour of that. No chance, the exhibit doesn't open until two. Then lunch at the Dolphin, another five star I like to stop into for a beer, a bite and some serious air conditioning at noon. Waiter asks me if I am free tomorrow evening. He's starting a new hobby, taking people on tours of Visaskhapatnums local attractions. Would have done it anytime this week end but I'm going to be on a train or bus tomorrow. I'll look him up next time I'm in Visag.

Did have a couple of interesting conversations down on the beach. A young man came by with a group and approached me. He told me he was a Christian minister and was coming down to the sea to do some baptisms asked if he could come back and talk to me afterwards. I said sure and soon he came back to tell me his tale. He used to be a Hindu, worshipped false idols, hung around this Christian church and criticized the music. Eventually he went into the church became a convert and started his own ministry. I told him I'm not religious; I believe it creates disunity by focusing on differences instead of what is common to all humanity. I was however impressed by his quiet, simplicity and obviously joyous involvement with his local community so I gave him 500 Rs just because I liked his aura.

A little further down the beach another man approached me. He had a scrap book of photos and text documenting his involvement with several gurus in the Himalayas and asked me if I wanted to become his family friend. I wondered if his wife would be quite as enthusiastic about dragging a beer drinking, cigarette smoking foreign woman in as a family friend without a little discussion first so I graciously declined, but promised if I knew any groups in Canada who needed workshops in meditation and yoga techniques I would recommend him. Two faces of Indian spirituality, the contradictions are always in your face here.

I'm getting myself a decent bed made as soon as I get back to Puttaparthi, I'm always afraid I'm going to fall off that skimpy little cot I'm using now. So when I noticed a big household linen supply place I went in and bought some sheets. The salesman tried to talk me into a poly/cotton blend because they don't need ironing but with dobie fees at 3 rupees an item I feel quite all right about indulging my love for the feel of crisp freshly ironed white cotton sheets, just like when I was a kid. $30.00 for four double bed size sheets and two single sized sheets, 100 % pure cotton, solid and substantial. Cut them right off the bolt, the in-house tailor ran up the hems while I waited. I like the way some things are done in India. Visnakhaputnam may not be well known for cotton but you can sure get some nice stuff here.

Out of the woods (I hope)

Railway station again today. Got down there about 11:15 and experienced this sinking feeling as I saw the line to the token counter snaking away across the parking lot, a feeling not enhanced by the big sign over the door saying the ticket office closes at 14:00 hours on Sundays and holidays. Surprise, ripped through the token line with minutes to spare before they shut down that window at twelve. Indian officials can be such sadists. Ten minutes before twelve I was the second in line when the lady behind the counter took off to enter a lot of stuff on a computer, leaving us all to wonder if she was going to come back before shift end. Indians cannot handle this sort of stuff. The ones behind me became frightened and started cramming their arms and fistfulls of paper under the glass, waving them at her frantically. Luckily I was one of the few others she gave numbers to before slamming down the wicket.

And luck it was, only forty people in front of me this time and a whole two hours to go before they shut the place down. Piece of cake. Took waitlisted ticket one, I felt it was pretty good odds at least one person would bail before traintime. Now I can figure out how this business of changing a waitlist ticket to a confirmed ticket works.

And I have finished the newspaper. Gives me two days off to do tourist things and go hang out on the beach in the morning, take some photos.

I suspect the whole railway station scramble had a lot to do with the celebration of Republic Day on Friday. Probably a lot of people using the stat to grab a long weekend with relatives.

Now I have my own India train booking story

So far I have been lucky. When I want a train ticket I just go down to the station and buy one. Today I had one of those experiences other people talk about traveling in India.

Went down to the station to get my ticket. Stood in a very long line to get a token to go up to the window and submit my requisition. Waited watching little green numbers flicker on a television monitor while the guys behind the counter chewed through the 350, (I'm not kidding) people ahead of me, over lunch hour and into the afternoon. I already had found out that I had to travel down the coast and catch the train to Vasco de Gamma at Vijidawada. I was quite loking forward to a cross continent drive behind that salt encrusted behemoth. Alas, it was not to be. After much to and froing between three different counters it was finally established that the only ticket I could have was waitlisted with eleven people ahead of me, or I could wait until the fourteenth. Didn't want either, will fly from Bangelore, but might as well go all the way to Puttaparthi and drop off my very large new Indian style suitcase first. (It's got my snazzy little airline wheelie inside it.)

Left the hotel at 10 am, reached a bar and downed a Kingfisher by four thirty. I needed that, buying train tickets is thirsty work. Tomorrow, something simple, one train, already know the name and number or else I take a bus. I like Visag fine but I don't have any relationships going here so it's not someplace I want to stay for a really long time.

One good thing, decided to get serious about the ATM issue. Wrote down a list of all the different bank ATM's I have used in India and told the rickshaw driver,

"I want to visit every ATM in town till I find one that works."

Disapointed him terribly that I hit paydirt on the first try, and found a new brand of ATM that works, and in Vishakaputnam, bonus. So my card is ok, it's just the Syndicate Bank machine in Puttaparthi that is wonky. That's good to know.

Onward!!!!!!!!!!!

Onward to Visag

Jan26

Bit of a panic this morning. I could not get on the train I wanted at Gunter Junction, had to catch it one more stop up the line which meant catching another train at Gunter to go intercept it. Buying the ticket was easy enough, 13 rupees, and the directions were simple enough. Show up at 4:30 am. That was where simple ended. Got there at 4:30 and the helpful guy at information looked non-plussed when I asked what track to go to to catch a train to this one stop up the line. He said that the express to Vishakaputnam had gone by at 3:30. I pointed out where my ticket instructed me to board at Vijayawada at 6:55.

A by-stander suggested track three and he agreed. I went to track three. There was a completely dead train sitting there all locked and dark with numerous Indians attempting to gain entrance through every possible door and window. Finally a group did find an open door and got on to sit in the dark. This seemed like an odd way to do business. I guess I looked non-plussed enough that a guy asked me if I knew where I was going. I told him Vijayawada Junction, to intercept the Presanthi Express. He said this is the Golkerna Express, the train you need is on track four. So off I go to track four, where a train coming all the way from Vasco de Gama over on the other coast in Goa is just pulling into the station. Indian rail officials are like cops, thick as theives when I am trying to sneak a cigarette but never there when you need one. Finally I went way down the train to the reserved section and asked a guy hanging about catching a quick puff if this train was going to Vijawada Junction. He said, that's one stop up the line, just grab the porters seat and come along. A few other guys with brief cases got on and stood in the passage and off we went. Nobody to check tickets or anything. Got to the stop 20 minutes before the Preshanti Express pulled in. The Golkerna train came in ten minutes later, so the dead train would have worked as well. There was a notice by the door that a special train had come through at 3:30, express to Visag, but not the one I was catching so I guess that was what the confusion was about. I did a little praying that the train would come in on track one so I wouldn't have to haul my luggage up and down more steps, and merciful heavans, my prayers were answered. After that it was a pretty uneventful journey. Nice chat with an Indian real estate mogul in Houstan Texas. 150 apartment buildings, can you imagine? Then caught a few hours of catch up sleep before Vishakapatnam.

I like Visag. 250 rupee rooms are easy to find and it is an interesting town to go for a walk in. It's situated on both sides of a rocky hump sticking out into the sea. One shore line is naval base and container ship port and the other is public beach. The city streets run up and down and over this promontory.I always get lost. You can go do a little beach time if you want. It's a city beach, not a resort beach, no swimming because of the rocks and undertow and the beachside ammenities run to lots of statues of famous Indian's and some odd fantasy creatures rather than beach shacks and restaurants. They even have a submarine beached on the waterfront you can tour. Not a lot of lounging about on the sand slurping down beer on this side of India. But the sea air is still lovely and it's wonderfully cool at this time of year. No, I didn't take all those photos today, I'm not that much of an overachiever. Those are from last year.

There is an emporium there that has the most wonderful hand woven and hand printed cottons. This is the only place I have seen selling them, bought a whole bunch of huge bedsheets for 350 for the doubles and 150 for the singles. The guy remembered me from last year, gave me his card if I ever want him to ship me some. Got some wonderfully embroidered cotton dress goods and short and long men's kurtas in that wonderful cotten. I has so much character and texture in the hand. I love it. Then I went down and splurged 550 rs on a meal at the Taj, one of India's five star chains. They have amazing food and world class service. Even their coffee is wonderful, wish I could afford to check in one day.

Wanted to find out what it would cost to fly to Goa, guy at Air India told me, forget it, the airport has been closed for seven days because of fog with no end in sight. So I guess it's the train again for me.

And so, back to my cubical to work some more on the newspaper.

Tomorrow I am going to grab a rickshaw and hit every ATM in town and see if any of them will give me money after I figure out the train stuff. I'd love to buy more cotton, and the huge Indian suitcase I'm going to need now to carry my prizes, but I don't want to arrive broke in Goa, still have to get back to Puttaparthi.