A ride in the track lanes I

8:30 a.m.
"Knock, knock."
"Yes?" My sleepy voice said.
"Hot water."

Hot water on a bucket. My 100 Rs. room hat hot water on a bucket, but it had to be delivered to my room before 9:00 a.m. Otherwise, there was no more hot water as electricity didn't come back until 5 p.m. So more than once my door was knocked at 8:30 when I would start my days at Bundi.

My last day in Bundi, I wanted to take a hot shower before my long trip to Varanassi. On my arrival to Kota I tried to get a train directly to Varanassi, but it was impossible. There was only one train a week to do that journey, and it was on Friday's. So it was either too early or too late to get it. My solution was to get a train to Delhi, which I booked directly at the Kota train station. Unfortunately, I couldn't book a train there from Delhi to Varanassi, and the girl wasn't being very helpful anyway. So I didn't even asked about the possibility.

Once in Bundi I managed to book a train from Delhi to Varanassi through an agency. It turned out to be a total rip-off, but what to do? I could have tried to book it on my own through the Internet, but I went for the easy and sure option. I liked the guys that had sold me the ticket, they were honest, as honest as an Indian businessman can be, but the guy that actually booked the ticket, oh, I didn't liked him nor his expensive commission of 200 Rs. The excuse given was the use of Internet and telephone calls. What was he thinking, that I was new in India? I resigned though, cause I thought it was too late to try it for myself. Should've tried it for myself on the first place.

The day went on slowly talking with the guy from the grocery store and many of his friends who invited me to chai and some snack I can't recall it's name, Immy and Tanny from the Internet place, Deepak, whose mom did the best rice I've ever tasted in India, Yug and other artists, and at Ringo's Restaurant playing Carom.

Immy advised me to leave at about 7:30 p.m. And at about that time I was saying goodbye to all my new friends. Indian friends, not a single tourist. On my way to get a rickshaw I bumped into J.P. whom I'd met at Ringo's. I didn't trust him, but he was fun to be around. He was learning Spanish from a notebook he had and practiced with it whenever he was with me. From his talk I would say he was a trickster. He said he owed money to his friends, all of them tourists. He dressed and acted as a tourist wearing a backpack wherever he went. Immy talked about him with a bit of disdain.

I finally get to bargain a rickshaw for 20 Rs. to go to the bus stand. Once in Kota I bargain a rickshaw for 30 Rs. to go to the train station. They laugh at me, or with me, I can't tell. Again they wanted 60 Rs. but I wasn't up to paying more than what I had payed for the same journey on my arrival to Kota. And I won again.

9:00 p.m. - I'm waiting outside the train station for a train that is not leaving until 11:40 p.m. eating some biscuits and smoking my rolls.

10:30 p.m. - My train is delayed 40 minutes.

10:50 p.m. - A kid asks for money while I talk with an Indian fellow who is going to Delhi in a train that leaves in front of my bored face. The kid keeps on asking until he gets bored and punches my arm. I don't even bother about it.

11:30 p.m. - I go outside to smoke more cigarettes and more snacks.

12:20 a.m. - I go inside to wait. I'm the only tourist in the whole station. I get stared, talked about, but I can't say what they are saying. I think to myself how important it is to learn the foreign language and I promise to myself I'm going to study again my Hindi notes. I didn't, at least in Varanassi.

12:30 a.m. - My train is delayed 10 more minutes. I don't know where to look, how to sit, what to do.

1 a.m. - I finally leave to Delhi coldly cuddled in my sleeping bag, one eye asleep, one in my belongings.