India > To Delhi train station

In front of the airport entrance, countless people stand holding signs with names. I walk past them looking for my name. Nearly the last person in the line is holding up my name. It’s Ramesh. He takes me to the Sunrise Hotel in Delhi. The traffic is chaotic, and Ramesh skillfully maneuvers his car through the other vehicles. Meanwhile, he tries to call the tour agent to ask if my train is still scheduled to leave at 10:50 PM. He notices that I’m unintentionally braking along with the traffic standing still ahead of us. He laughs about it. “Trust me,” he says, “I’ve been a taxi driver for 24 years.” Ramesh drops me off at the hotel. “Just give your name inside,” he says. It turns out not to be that easy. As Ramesh leaves with his taxi, it turns out no booking is known under my name inside. “Do you have a voucher?” They ask. I don’t have one, but I do have the description of my travel itinerary. After some difficulty searching through my papers, it appears the hotel has several branches. I’m at the right chain but the wrong branch. The receptionist tries to transfer the booking to this hotel, but it seems difficult. He arranges a tuk-tuk, and together with someone from the hotel, I ride to the correct address. It’s apparently only a few hundred meters further. The receptionist promises to contact Ramesh to tell him to pick me up at the right address tonight. At the second hotel, the booking is known. In the room, I sort my luggage. I’m allowed to leave part of my luggage with the tour agent. I won’t need the warm clothes from Bhutan in the coming week. This also keeps me under the fifteen-kilogram limit for the flight the day after tomorrow. I could have booked extra luggage, but the agent himself suggested this. In the afternoon, I walk into the city around the hotel. I don’t have a specific goal and just stroll through the streets. It’s busy everywhere and there is honking all around. I notice I quickly start ignoring the honking. I come to the metro station. People are eating at food stalls on the street. I don’t mind buying food here, but eating with hands doesn’t appeal to me yet. I follow the metro route. It looks like I’m in a student neighborhood. Special student menus are displayed everywhere. At the next metro station, there is a kind of market going on. Clothes are laid out on tarps, and it’s very busy. I even have to squeeze through mostly men.

India - Busy clothing market in the Karol Bagh district of Delhi

Meanwhile, I watch my belongings carefully. I have no idea why suddenly so many people have gathered here. I’m in the mood to eat something but also want to sit down for a bit. I look on the map for a restaurant. It’s not yet six o’clock and probably not mealtime. Yet, I’m welcomed warmly. From the menu, I choose Malai Kofta. I have no idea what it exactly is. The waiter advises ordering naan bread as well. Someone is sent outside for the cola. He comes back a little later with a large bottle of cola. I get a glass poured from it. Back at the hotel, I prepare for the overnight train to Varanasi. I have no idea what the train looks like or what to expect. I see on the Indian Railways website that Delhi is the starting point and Varanasi the endpoint. That’s convenient. The trip takes eleven hours and ten minutes. Along the way, there are four stops. I also see that my compartment is probably the third from the rear and that the train departs from platform 15. This information will make it easier to find later. A little before 9:30 PM, I get a message from Ramesh asking if I’m ready. When I come outside, he’s still on his way. He asks again for the hotel name. Around 9:40 PM, he arrives. He apologizes for the wrong hotel this afternoon. He hadn’t checked the booking again. Quickly, he drives me to the Delhi train station. While driving, the remaining amount I still have to pay is charged to my credit card. I don’t think I’ve ever made a payment in a moving taxi before, let alone in Delhi’s heavy traffic. I arrive at the train station safely and well in time. Only in the train compartment is your ticket checked.

India - The colorfully lit station of Delhi

You can ignore everyone else. Sometimes people try to persuade you that you need stamps for a fee, Ramesh warns me. The platform is already crowded. It looks like everyone arrived an hour early. I look for the place where carriage A1 is expected. This is exactly the sign that is missing. Since carriage A1 is scheduled between carriages H1 and A2, I assume I should stand between those signs. I meet a Swiss couple having the same problem. Half an hour before departure, the BSBS SF Express train arrives. I have a bed on the side of the train. I can separate my bed with a curtain. I think I can sleep here. Besides the Swiss couple, only Indians are in the carriage. I take the sheet out of the package and spread it over the mattress. I put my sleeping bag on top. With the air conditioning, it can get chilly at night. I close the curtains and go to sleep. I’ve just dozed off when the train stops at Ghaziabad. New travelers walk through the aisle. Passing by, they unintentionally pull my curtain as well.