The Public Bus
April 20, day 19
Ha, I'm loving this - stubborness prevails yet again! To get from, Agra to Varanasi I was booked on an overnight train from Tundla station, which I guessed to be about a half hour away from Agra. Nu-uh. It turned out to be an hour and a half away, and I didn't find this out until a little under 3hrs before my train was due to depart. I was online at the time so did some ultra quick research on how to get there, managing to find a little info about getting the bus but nothing very specific. The guy running the internet cafe said he could organise me a taxi for Rs400, to which I said No! My hotel also said they could organise me a taxi, this time for Rs600 - a very definite and slightly louder No! So what to do? In both places I asked what they knew about the bus, and in putting their two acocunts together was able to work out clear instructions on where to catch one and how long it would take. I took a rickshaw to the depot, declining the driver's multiple offers along the way to take me all the way to Tundla for Rs200, which would naturally include the privelage of being taken to a marble shop where, of course, I wouldn't have to buy anything. I've given up trying to suss their logic, which is great as it no longer confuses me, just amuses me!
On arriving at the bus depot I could do naught but laugh, and it's a good thing I have a solid sense of humour - the bus I was to get on had no front bumper and the rest of the exterior looked fairly set to follow (like in a cartoon where all the sides fall off simultaeneously) and it was already crammed full but, hell, I like an adventure so smiled at my fellow passengers before shoving on board with my backpack and paying my Rs20 for a ticket. The staff at the hotel had kindly, and with genuine concern, warned me quite sternly to watch out for my luggage at all times. I bore this in mind, but there really was no need; the people on board were all really lovely, especially the quiet Indian girls next to me who also had luggage and had managed to bag some seats with space to store it, helping me to secure mine with theirs even though it would blatantly clog up their space. They couldnt speak English but spent half the journey smiling up at me and at one point even tried to free up a couple of inches of space for me to sit on the edges of their seat - I didn't have the heart to accept and impose even more, but they were so sweet to offer! The trip wasn't even as long as I'd been told, though very rickety and the driver was useless - I'm obviously becoming more accustomed to Indian driving, as I found myself thinking that even I could squeeze a bus through some of the spaces he wimped out of! He kept missing turning points and driving further and further out of our way to get to a quieter one, and all of the other passengers seemed to be getting a bit agitated with him too. Honk honk, hurry up! As we got closer to Tundla several people kept me updated on how many kms we had to go, when we got there they all made sure I knew where to get off, and one of them even hailed me a rickshaw to the station! Aww.
It has to be said though, if I never hear of the existence of Tundla again it wont be too soon. It was easily the most polluted place I have ever passed through - my poor rickshaw driver cough cough coughed the whole way to the station (I almost wanted to give him my asthma inhalers as baksheesh) and I could barely see beyond 50 metres ahead of me for all the smoke and fumes. By the end of the 10-15 minute ride I felt completely choked.
Being on the road in such conditions (I haven't even mentioned the heat), passing through chaotic streets sometimes so busy that a passenger would occasionally hop off the bus to walk into the traffic and clear some space for us up ahead was a totally mad experience, so except for the chuntering smoky end I felt chuffed that I had held out in getting the bus. Not only was it twenty times cheaper than a taxi would have been but it was most certainly twenty times more interesting. I definitely got to see some of the real India and, for me, that made it priceless.
Ha, I'm loving this - stubborness prevails yet again! To get from, Agra to Varanasi I was booked on an overnight train from Tundla station, which I guessed to be about a half hour away from Agra. Nu-uh. It turned out to be an hour and a half away, and I didn't find this out until a little under 3hrs before my train was due to depart. I was online at the time so did some ultra quick research on how to get there, managing to find a little info about getting the bus but nothing very specific. The guy running the internet cafe said he could organise me a taxi for Rs400, to which I said No! My hotel also said they could organise me a taxi, this time for Rs600 - a very definite and slightly louder No! So what to do? In both places I asked what they knew about the bus, and in putting their two acocunts together was able to work out clear instructions on where to catch one and how long it would take. I took a rickshaw to the depot, declining the driver's multiple offers along the way to take me all the way to Tundla for Rs200, which would naturally include the privelage of being taken to a marble shop where, of course, I wouldn't have to buy anything. I've given up trying to suss their logic, which is great as it no longer confuses me, just amuses me!
On arriving at the bus depot I could do naught but laugh, and it's a good thing I have a solid sense of humour - the bus I was to get on had no front bumper and the rest of the exterior looked fairly set to follow (like in a cartoon where all the sides fall off simultaeneously) and it was already crammed full but, hell, I like an adventure so smiled at my fellow passengers before shoving on board with my backpack and paying my Rs20 for a ticket. The staff at the hotel had kindly, and with genuine concern, warned me quite sternly to watch out for my luggage at all times. I bore this in mind, but there really was no need; the people on board were all really lovely, especially the quiet Indian girls next to me who also had luggage and had managed to bag some seats with space to store it, helping me to secure mine with theirs even though it would blatantly clog up their space. They couldnt speak English but spent half the journey smiling up at me and at one point even tried to free up a couple of inches of space for me to sit on the edges of their seat - I didn't have the heart to accept and impose even more, but they were so sweet to offer! The trip wasn't even as long as I'd been told, though very rickety and the driver was useless - I'm obviously becoming more accustomed to Indian driving, as I found myself thinking that even I could squeeze a bus through some of the spaces he wimped out of! He kept missing turning points and driving further and further out of our way to get to a quieter one, and all of the other passengers seemed to be getting a bit agitated with him too. Honk honk, hurry up! As we got closer to Tundla several people kept me updated on how many kms we had to go, when we got there they all made sure I knew where to get off, and one of them even hailed me a rickshaw to the station! Aww.
It has to be said though, if I never hear of the existence of Tundla again it wont be too soon. It was easily the most polluted place I have ever passed through - my poor rickshaw driver cough cough coughed the whole way to the station (I almost wanted to give him my asthma inhalers as baksheesh) and I could barely see beyond 50 metres ahead of me for all the smoke and fumes. By the end of the 10-15 minute ride I felt completely choked.
Being on the road in such conditions (I haven't even mentioned the heat), passing through chaotic streets sometimes so busy that a passenger would occasionally hop off the bus to walk into the traffic and clear some space for us up ahead was a totally mad experience, so except for the chuntering smoky end I felt chuffed that I had held out in getting the bus. Not only was it twenty times cheaper than a taxi would have been but it was most certainly twenty times more interesting. I definitely got to see some of the real India and, for me, that made it priceless.