Almost at Varkala

Written on December 20th

Slept decidedly poorly and feel as nasty as your typical backpacker. First one dodgy bus from Madurai and then another. The first one was packed with men, second one from other location N something to Trivandrum was a lot more unpleasant though. Despite it being 4 a.m. the Bollywood movies were cranking it and sleeping was virtually impossible. Besides it was a local bus meaning there was little to no space for both my legs and rucksack. To top things up, I somehow ended up on the only seat without a window meaning I froze half to death even with my woollen shawl on. Also, all the pollution that I must have been exposed to left a thick oily feeling on my skin and already unclean hair. I feel grimy but at the same time oddly happy, like when you've just come back from an awesome music festival and people can't understand why you're so happy after a week of horrible sleeping in mud, no food or just plain bad food and ridiculously somewhat dnagerous adventures while in a slightly confused state.

That same overjoyment that fills you as you try to depict the awesomeness of a seemingly horrible experience to your mother fills me now as I lean back into the tacky blue leather seat of my train compartment, calmly sipping my sweet indian coffee, half-consciously wanting to brush my teeth as I realise I've missed doing so for the past two days in a row.

I hope I'm on the right train. At least trains only go in two different directions.