Fresh Air
Trying to book train tickets online has proven impossible. It worked once for the trip to Agra but ever since either the sites refuse to accept foreign credit cards or the site shuts down immediately after clicking "Book Here." It's like the site is taunting me. Travel agents have been recommended to us but they've been more or less unresponsive. At the last minute we found out that the train companies will sometimes reserve a certain number of seats for foreign travelers and this turned out to be the key to getting tickets. Unfortunately, Krista couldn't book with us for so many more complicated reasons than are worth explaining here but it really all comes down to the fact that she has a work visa ... and it's basically cursed. The best she could do was get on a waitlist and hope to be able to make it on the train with us. After pulling a few strings, it she received notification of a confirmed ticket two hours before departure time.
The four of us packed up and left the guesthouse feeling relaxed, ready for a soothing train ride, a weekend kicking back in the mountains. In truth we didn't know for sure if we really had a confirmed hotel, but you gotta celebrate the victories one step at a time. All that mattered at the moment was that we were going to get there. If it turned out the hotel would reject our confirmation, which we were fairly certain it would, then we were willing to bet a travel office in town could help us find a room somewhere else. Being a popular vacation destination for Delhiites, there were bound to be an abundance of hotels. The risk was that we might have to settle for another Hotel Raj.
When we hailed a rick driver, we realized there was a huge chance we destroyed our trip before ever getting out of Delhi. We had anticipated leaving from New Delhi Station but while pointing to the station indicated on the ticket to the rick driver, we realized we actually had to be at Old Delhi Station - at least 30 minutes farther than New Delhi Station. There was a good chance we'd miss the train. As if we couldn't cut things any closer, after passing through one traffic light, the driver stopped for gas as we shouted "No, no, go, go, go!!!!" We bailed out and ran to the next auto rick coming out of the gas station. But of course, he also managed to be the slowest and most cautious rick driver in all of Delhi. Of all times to find the one driver who actually obeys traffic laws. We rode most of the way in silence, each concentrating on the time and anxious for every traffic light to turn green.
We got to Old Delhi Station 10 minutes after our scheduled departure. Hoping there was a chance that the train was running late, we practically threw rupees at the driver and sprinted off to find the platform without looking back. Danny fell over a pile of rubble and nearly took out Nick in the process. Our bags flailed against others in the station - I'm sure we nearly knocked over a couple travelers. Compared to the crowds slowly moving through the station, we must have looked desperate and helpless. Then when we were just about certain that the train had already departed, we found it! I could hardly believe we cut things so close with so many set backs, and still made it on this train. The whole scenario felt like a flashback to fiasco at Newark's airport and the plane to Delhi we almost missed.
After celebrating the victory, we passed out on the beds and woke up several hours later to a very different India. The sun was rising over mountains in the distance, its rays piercing through misty clouds that hid the peaks from view. Between the train and the hills was flat, lush land, populated by tiny rural villages and small farms. The scene was the complete opposite of the cramped urban cities where houses are literally stacked on top of each other and trash is everywhere. Here, everything looked green, fresh, and quiet. We opened one of the side doors of the train and watched the peaceful countryside unfold as the train rolled slowly by. Locals began to emerge from their homes, brushing their teeth in the doorways, cooking breakfast over a fire, or just squatting in their yards while staring at the train. After an hour, the pace of life was starting to pick up: farmers were heading into the fields; mothers were washing children in the yards; stray dogs emerged and began scrounging for food in scattered garbage piles; and a group of teenagers were playing cricket in the open area of a pit used to park lorries. Meanwhile, the mountains were getting closer and curtains of rain formed in the distance.
We pulled into the train station at the base of the mountains, and took a taxi the rest of the way to Nainital. The ride took about another hour but the scenery out the window as we climbed the mountains was so beautiful, I hardly noticed the time. The windy road took us above, below, and though the mist. The clouds moved like a claw over the rainforest's peaks. Every now and then, white-faced gray monkeys scurried across the road. At the sharpest turns were signs warning drivers to reduce their speed and stay awake, but the choice of words were comically ominous. For example, "If you sleep, your family will weep"; "We value your life, not your speed"; and "If you are married to speed, divorce it!" Don't worry, we made it safely to Nainital at the top.
The town surrounds a tiny lake in the hills. From one end looking down to the other, it looks like the world suddenly drops off into infinity. It sounds blissfully peaceful but it's obviously a favorite vacation destination. The streets were busy with pedestrians, taxies were eager to take us to surrounding sights, and most of the hotels were booked. As expected, the other hotel refused to honor our confirmation. Fortunately it didn't take long to find a place to stay. It wasn't the cheapest place, but they offered breakfast, a driver to take us sightseeing, and the decor was really cool. It was an old summer palace decorated with animal skins and a perfect view of lake.
We had hoped to take a gondola to the top of one of the hills to catch a famed glimpse of the Himalayas, but decided to wait for evening since the top was covered in cloud. In the mean time we spent the afternoon driving through he mountains, appreciating other lookout points along the way, as well as a waterfall, and a crazed troop of touts shouting at us to pay for horseback trail rides. Knocking on the windows and chasing the car down the road seemed like an oddly aggressive tactic just for some trail riding. We kindly declined the offer.
Once back at the hotel, we tried again for the gondola ride but found out that they had sold their last ticket for the gondola ride to the top. We could have hiked but the sun was setting and we probably wouldn't be able to see much. So instead, we took a ride on a pink, swan-shaped paddle boat and watched the sun set behind the mountains before finding dinner.
The entire trip was a much needed break from the heat and polluted air of Delhi. The fresh mountain air reinvigorated my motivation to allow India to continue to grow on me, and the regular change in plans reminded me of the enjoyment that can accompany travel when you remain flexible and allow fro spontaneity.
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