2010.12.07: Still On The Road

Being driven on the Indian road is a little like going to the cinema. Sometimes beautiful landscapes unfold themselves before you. Soon after, or at the same time, it might appear you’re involved in an action packed high-speed car chase; it doesn’t matter in what lane anyone drives as long as things go as fast as possible. The roads have, in case you wonder or pray, you’re dreaming, very convenient placed bumps and holes. Whenever the bus hits one you’ll instantly know you’re awake and, usually, a few seconds later you’re still alive. It could of course also be that a horror movie was scheduled. You travel at night and the only lights, which come from your own car, illuminate gloomy shadows lurking behind trees. Or was that just a monkey? Probably you’ve been watching something romantic all along, because you witness a magnificent sunrise or sunset and see how a couple embraces each other on a motorbike. One thing is certain: India’s roads are never boring.

Another thing, which is certain, is that most Indian buses are home to an incredible draft. I got to endure this on my first ride, a ten-hour night trip from Agra to Haridwar. Actually, the bus itself was quite awesome, having regular seats and cabins, where one could sleep, on top of them. I was in the last bed at the end of the bus. There I could hear the engine sometimes literally echo in my ears and frequent bumps and braking made me bounce up and down. The draft however was the worst, because I didn’t have a blanket or sleeping bag to cover myself with. It’s needless to say that I barely slept and felt rather miserable, not in the least because I had caught a tremendous cold.

Things got better in the morning when my two-day travel companion gave me a wonderful candy bar and a magnificent sun warmed me up a little. Within minutes I was on the bus to Dehradun — where I hoped to meet my sister. Soon I had fallen asleep. A little bit later though, a loud “bang” and “ziinnggggg” woke me up again. A ferocious brake of the bus had made my head swing forward against a hollow metal pipe. The collision hurt a lot and from that point onwards I was obviously fed up with busses.

Once I arrived in Dehradun I spend an entire day in bed. The city was uninteresting as far as the hammering in my head and relentless coughing were concerned. I did have a nice dinner though. The next morning I wanted to leave as soon as possible to Risekesh, which I did. I was in a far better mood and I enjoyed my bus ride. (Photos are at the bottom, including my not very flattering self-portrait.) It was already evening when I met my sister. We decided to go Amritsar, where the golden Sikh temple is, as a one-day stop on the way Jammu.

Getting to Amritsar proved to be more difficult than we thought. We spend a good six hours in buses, going from place to place, in the hope of finding another bus that could bring us to the city with the golden temple. In the end we got to a train where we both had a surprisingly good night of sleep. Now I like buses. Happy End? I think so.