Back to budget

On my third day in Mumbai I go to Victoria station to book a train to Bundi. After a lot of looking and asking around in the big old rusty terminal, I get to the tourist reservation window totally unprepared. No form to book and not knowing what the train number was. On the other hand, a Canadian guy in front of me, who had arrived just the day before to India, was totally prepared. He had a spare form and had just bought the "Trains at a Glance" booklet. Very useful to get your way within the complicated Indian railway system. He gave me a form and let me use the booklet. I booked my train.

Out of the train station, for some unknown reason that impulses you to check twice and thrice on things, I doubled checked the ticket. Why would I do that? I had checked it back at the counter. What was the need? Something deep inside said I had to. And there is nothing worse than not following your instinct. I had booked the train for the 14th. What was I thinking of? I wanted to leave on the 7th! Back again to the window and a new cue. I waited.

My turn. I explain everything to the lady. She was laughing, oh I knew she was although she would politely only show a shy smile. "Oh, you are going to have to pay" to change my ticket. Shit! I thought. How much I was wondering. If it be too much or if it wasn't possible to change, I needed a second plan. I couldn't spent one more week in Mumbai, I would be ruined, not only of money, but of motivation to keep on. I had already thought of an alternative plan while queuing. The best option seemed to go to the Ajanta and Ellora caves and get the hell out of the 300 Rs. shithole I was in. "20 Rs." was her answer. Relief. That wasn't that bad, I could pay that amount.

I got to Kota train station with some change and plenty of 1000 Rs. notes. Unconsciously, I decided to use the change in buying my next ticket to Varanassi, which was not possible. Instead, I had to buy one for Delhi. But more on this later on.

So I suddenly found myself in the middle of about 10 rickshaw drivers offering me to get me to the bus stand for 60 Rs. Out of all the change I had, I was only left with 50 Rs. and plenty of 1000 Rs. notes the smartest ATM in India had given me. No problem with those notes in Mumbai, but go to India and tell me about it.

I had to go to the bus stand in order to get a bus to Bundi. And I had to pay the bus as well, which could not be more than 20 Rs., or at least I hoped. So I had to bargain those 60 Rs. to 30. I later learned that 30 Rs. would have been Indian price and that tourist price was 50 Rs. I got it for 30. My bargaining skills had clearly improved.

Once in Bundi, I had no more money for rickshaws, so I had to walk to the guest house area, about 1km from the bus stand. Nothing much, other that I was tired and hungry. The first room I was shown was a big double bedded room with hot water and a kind of grill in the floor that allowed you to peek downstairs, and so, be peeked at. Good price, but I didn't like the idea. And besides, I had to recover from my expensive days in the city. I needed something cheaper. Another 200 room which I tried to bargain to 150 without success. Finally, a 100 Rs. room with hot water on a bucket. That would do.

I was back to budget, except that food and Internet were pretty expensive, but I would manage it eating little and just twice a day, as I had been doing in Mumbai. If for any reason I would wake up so early I needed some breakfast, I would just stick to the 5 Rs. biscuits at any stall and the 5 to 10 Rs. chai at Indian restaurants.

I stayed in budget everyday I was in Bundi, except for the day I had to call my sister, as she had had an inflammation on her spine and could not move her arms. But the call was worth leaving the budget aside. An extra cost more meaningful than all the beers I've had so far. Not one of those drinks have been worth the money used. This call was.