The Worst Day of my Life (Seriously)

**I posted 2 entries today... check out the post below this one for a giant India update.

Before I close the India chapter, I thought I'd share the worst day of my life. It begins in Darjeeling where we are scheduled to take a 16 or 17 hour, overnight train ride to Varanasi. According to Lonely Planet, the city is one of the holiest spots in the Hindu religion. The diseased and dying migrate to Varanasi (which is situated on the Ganges river) in hopes of dying along the river banks. Because of the religious significance, the city is jampacked with tourists hoping to catch a glimpse at one of the body-burning ceremonies, rickshaw drivers trying to overcharge you for a tour of the city, and the terminally ill. I knew that Varanasi would be the most shocking part of India, but what I didn't realize was that the train ride to the city would be the most terrifying experience of my life.

Per a suggestion from Marco, a fellow traveler we met in Darjeeling, the third class sleeper train was the way to travel; it was cheap, comfortable, and totally safe. Marco was clearly smoking something, because the second I set foot in the train car I wanted to turn back. There were 8 beds per compartment and about 8 compartments in each train car. If you do the math, there should have been 64 people per car; but India is not logical and people do not follow rules.

In our 8-person compartment there were 14 people crammed in. Men slept 2 to a bed that was 1/2 the size of a twin, and a few others slept like sardines on the floor. (We reserved one bed per person and were the only people in the train who slept solo). There were over 100 people, easily, shoved into our non-airconditioned train car. The smell was horrific: a mix of stale air, body odor, feces, fried food, and urine. At each stop peddlers came through trying to sell chai tea from a dirty kettle or some fried dough balls covered in flies.

WARNING: The next paragraph is slightly graphic.

I don't even want to get into the bathroom situation. The floor was covered in a half-inch thick layer of God knows what and the smell made me gag. I walked in and immediatey turned around, grabbed a pack of antibacterial wipes, and wrapped a scarf around my face to mask the scent. A few hours later I tried to brave the bathroom again, but the second time was so much worse. It's as if the entire train splatter painted the bathroom. No more details necessary.

As I mentioned before, people come to Varanasi to die; therefore, the train is packed with the diseased and dying. They sleep along side of you in the cars, they sit in their own feces in between the cars, and they hack, cough, and excrete wherever they please. I think we were the only tourists on the train, which only added to our discomfort; people stared at us for hours at a time. The whole situation was awful and depressing.

Here is an excerpt from Brett's blog that describes the train ride:

"On the train, we were some of the only people who had purchased an individual bed. Most people slept two to a bed with two or three other people on the floor between them. Feet and hands poked out from every crevice. Eyes peered over the beds and in between broken boards. The stares were unnerving and the smells were revolting. People slept in feces near the bathrooms--lying in the dark space between cars too weak to move. Our train crept along at a pace that makes the FDR during rushhour seem like an abandoned highway in middle America...
The whole experience felt like a nightmare from which one cannot wake. I kept thinking that if I only pinched myself a bit harder, I would wake up somewhere comfortable or tolerable, but all I could see were hundreds of people, poor, dirty, and desperate. I clutched my passport and money belt tighter." I think that sums it up pretty well.

I was emotionally spent after 10 hours on the train and on the verge of a breakdown. I hadn't slept more than 2.5 hours, I felt so dirty, and I had to pee. Then we found out that our train was indefinitely delayed. We were stranded in Patna, 7 hours outside of Varanasi.

With no other options, we jumped off the train from hell and decided to hire a car to Varanasi. That is when I saw it: the bodies of two young men huddled together, dead, and covered in flies. I lost it. I broke into tears and wanted nothing more than to be safe, comfortable, and as far away from India as possible.

Hiring a car proved to be impossible. The only tourist agency in the city tried to overcharge us (shocking, I know!) and when we tried to discuss the details about 50 people swarmed us. They just came to stare, but the crowd was so big that we couldn't move. An hour later we were strong-armed into buying another train ticket and booking it to Varanasi.

We safely made it to Varanasi after 20+ hours, but I have never been more miserable, dirty, or tired in my entire life. This experience was the last straw for our group; it was time to get out of India. After reading this you might think we were being prissy, but I can honestly say that the things we saw on the train were some of the most awful, heartbreaking sights I have seen on my trip.

On a more positive note, this was my rock bottom. Everything post-Varanasi (sans the motorbike accident) has been absolutely amazing. I'll update more when I can!

xoxo