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Friday
Apr032009
Snapshots
April 3, 2009
Maria is my Goan next-door neighbor in Arambol. She kisses me on both cheeks with tears in her eyes as we get ready to get in the van taxi. All of our things are loaded and the heat presses down on all of us. I say goodbye to Miriam, knowing that I will see her again in October, after her trip home to Germany, but six months is a long way away. We wave goodbye to our house.
*
We stand on the platform with our numerous bags and boxes around us. We are thirsty and it is so hot. All around are the coconut palms and cashew trees of Goa, as well as the red earth. It is the sleepy, middle time of day, and we count fifteen bags, including Renee's. Becca and Cat will board the train in Mumbai. We are no longer exactly backpackers with our fifteen bags, but we are doing pretty well for a family of six. We discuss strategy: One person will board the train with the kids, one will stand on the platform passing bags to a person standing on the train. The train will only stop briefly, we will need to get everything on in a hurry.
*
We have been told the wrong platform. When the train stops we need to run four cars down, but we can't carry all our stuff at once. "Just go!" Chinua yells, as I hesitate with the kids. We run, and YaYa asks, "Is Daddy going to be left behind?"
I sincerely hope not, as I board the train and watch Renee unloading stuff. Chinua is running back and forth and I try to keep the kids out of the way in the narrow corridor. Not much help, I find us a place to sit, and we wait. After Chinua and Renee get everything on, the train sits for another fifteen minutes. So much for the rush. It was by far our most panicky moment of the trip.
*
The air conditioning in our car feels heavenly. Our seats are a little scattered, and there doesn't seem to be enough room for all of our bags. I am exhausted already, and I sit with Leafy and Solo, waiting. My Superstar Husband does the bulk of the arranging. My mind feels tied up with my baby.
*
I whisper goodbye to Goa, as we pass by stunningly beautiful rivers and palm forest groves.
*
We drink our first of many, many chais that are making their way through the train car. Lunch is served and we attack it like the ravenous beasts that we are. The light outside is soft. I go to stand by the open door for a minute. The hot and humid air strokes my face. The color of the air here is always orange, or red, or golden. We pass through tunnels and I muse about the endless lines of people who have dug these tunnels, carrying the dirt out on their heads.
*
I have a six-year-old boy who is incredibly hyper in a small compartment. We will be here for thirty more hours. Will we survive? He jiggles his arms up and down and hops on both feet. He literally shakes from the energy that wants to rip through his body. I close my eyes.
*
I will be holding my baby for a long time. I try to get him to settle down for a nap. I am not successful.
*
YaYa makes friends with a little girl in the compartment that I am next to. They play with stuffed animals together. Leafy knowingly tells the girl's parents that the elephant is a rhinocerous. They don't know that he is just messing with them.
*
The wallas (vendors) pass through every three minutes or so with their calls of "Paneer Pakora," "Samose," "Chai," "Tea bag chai," "Nes-coffee," and one that we think is "Hard Cheese Sandwich," but sounds like "Awwww... Cheese Sandwich," For the rest of the trip, every time that man passes by, I say "Awwww," and Chinua laughs.
*
Time for bed. We get the kids situated on their small bunks. This class provides blankets and sheets. They are hyper and have been climbing up and down the ladders all day. "Lie down and go to sleep," we say. YaYa says goodbye to her new friend, who will get off the train in the night.
*
Chinua waits for Becca and Cat's station in Bombay. I am trying to sleep, but am too wired because of the possibility that we won't find them. They get on, and relief washes over me. I am sleepily listening to their description of their adventure as extras in a Bollywood Film; the dance scene, the costumes. It all feels a little unreal, and I drift off...
*
The family in the booth next to me wakes up to get off of the train and they behave as though it is the middle of the day and we should all be up. Solo wakes up beside me and believes them. I spend three hours trying to get him to go back to sleep, but the loud talking and laughing and bright lights interfere. At 5:00 in the morning he finally drifts off.
*
At 7:00, my kids wake up. Argggh. My hips are bruised from the iron bar that was the joint where the two seats became my bed. Have I slept at all? Thankfully, the chai walla is ready and prepared.
*
YaYa is climbing off the walls. I cannot believe that I am on this train with these four children. We are supposed to board another train when we reach Delhi this evening. I'm not sure that I will make it.
*
By the landscape, it appears that we are in Rajasthan. Now there are sloping desert-like hills. Men squat in dhotis and turbans. We see many flocks of goats and water buffalo.
*
The train food is really good. I feed Solo bits of curried potatoes. He loves them. I've been holding him for so long that I feel like my arms will break off. Chinua takes turns, and Becca takes him for a while, but he always wants me when he sees me.
*
There are wheat fields all around us, and people are harvesting the wheat by hand. We see the sheaves lying tied on the ground, we see bundles of sheaves, and we even see golden stacks of grain. All done by hand. It's incredible, and I stare, fascinated, at the colorful people bending and swaying in the fields as we pass.
*
Monkeys are lined up along the tracks. We catch sight of them and then they are gone.
*
We discuss a change in strategy. We will stay the night in Delhi if we can find a good hotel. We take many, many trips to the bathroom. YaYa is a pro at squatting now. Everyone is fascinated by the fact that the toilets simply open onto the tracks. Poo on the tracks!
*
More chai. More Veg Pakora. More samosas. More bouncing off the walls. The kids in the next booth have become very tired of the train. The littlest one cries and I see his exhausted mother walking with him as I try to bounce Solo to sleep. She is Indian and wearing Salwar Kameez, I am Western and wearing a shirt and a skirt, but we could be sisters.
*
We call hotels and make a reservation, a little ways out of the busiest part of Delhi. I know now not to book two train journeys back to back, even if it seems convenient. 30 hours at a time is plenty.
*
Porters board the train and help with some of our things. The kids grab a hand. I have Solo in the carrier and Leafy in the stroller and bags to boot. Everyone has something and we make our slow way through the crowded station. There are people sitting everywhere on the platforms. I meet a set of stairs and am stumped. Leafy gets out of the stroller and tries to pick up the front to help me carry it up, but it is weighed down with too many bags in the back and we can't make it. I could almost cry from the sweetness of his gesture. One of the porters leaps down the stairs and picks up the stroller to carry it up. We follow.
*
We haggle with the taxi drivers. This is the India I remember, far from the softness of Goa. Chinua bursts out laughing at the high prices they start out with. Everyone is yelling, but no one means anything bad by it.
*
I head back in to get our money back for the tickets we will cancel. While I'm gone, YaYa needs to pee, and at a loss, Chinua helps her to squat by a wall (this is how it is done here). While she is doing her business, a giant rat scurries past her, two inches from her feet. "A mousie!" she cries. "A mousie, did you see the mousie? Kid A, I saw a mousie, so close to me!" she tells her brother excitedly as they rejoin the rest.
*
After we get to the hotel, after we climb the flights of stairs and order some food and get everyone in the shower and put the mats on the floor and I finally succeed in bouncing an over-tired and over-stimulated baby to sleep, I look around and take stock. There are cupboards in our room. ("A wardrobe, Kid A!" YaYa shouts, thinking of Narnia.) Our children have fallen asleep in their jammies, there are so many of them. We put them on mattresses on the floor, Leafy goes on the couch, Solo is in the bed with us.
"I'm so proud of them," I tell Chinua in a whisper. He nods and tells me the rat story. We look at our treasures and love them. Travel with them is tiring, but it has never been so magical.
*
We stand on the platform with our numerous bags and boxes around us. We are thirsty and it is so hot. All around are the coconut palms and cashew trees of Goa, as well as the red earth. It is the sleepy, middle time of day, and we count fifteen bags, including Renee's. Becca and Cat will board the train in Mumbai. We are no longer exactly backpackers with our fifteen bags, but we are doing pretty well for a family of six. We discuss strategy: One person will board the train with the kids, one will stand on the platform passing bags to a person standing on the train. The train will only stop briefly, we will need to get everything on in a hurry.
*
We have been told the wrong platform. When the train stops we need to run four cars down, but we can't carry all our stuff at once. "Just go!" Chinua yells, as I hesitate with the kids. We run, and YaYa asks, "Is Daddy going to be left behind?"
I sincerely hope not, as I board the train and watch Renee unloading stuff. Chinua is running back and forth and I try to keep the kids out of the way in the narrow corridor. Not much help, I find us a place to sit, and we wait. After Chinua and Renee get everything on, the train sits for another fifteen minutes. So much for the rush. It was by far our most panicky moment of the trip.
*
The air conditioning in our car feels heavenly. Our seats are a little scattered, and there doesn't seem to be enough room for all of our bags. I am exhausted already, and I sit with Leafy and Solo, waiting. My Superstar Husband does the bulk of the arranging. My mind feels tied up with my baby.
*
I whisper goodbye to Goa, as we pass by stunningly beautiful rivers and palm forest groves.
*
We drink our first of many, many chais that are making their way through the train car. Lunch is served and we attack it like the ravenous beasts that we are. The light outside is soft. I go to stand by the open door for a minute. The hot and humid air strokes my face. The color of the air here is always orange, or red, or golden. We pass through tunnels and I muse about the endless lines of people who have dug these tunnels, carrying the dirt out on their heads.
*
I have a six-year-old boy who is incredibly hyper in a small compartment. We will be here for thirty more hours. Will we survive? He jiggles his arms up and down and hops on both feet. He literally shakes from the energy that wants to rip through his body. I close my eyes.
*
I will be holding my baby for a long time. I try to get him to settle down for a nap. I am not successful.
*
YaYa makes friends with a little girl in the compartment that I am next to. They play with stuffed animals together. Leafy knowingly tells the girl's parents that the elephant is a rhinocerous. They don't know that he is just messing with them.
*
The wallas (vendors) pass through every three minutes or so with their calls of "Paneer Pakora," "Samose," "Chai," "Tea bag chai," "Nes-coffee," and one that we think is "Hard Cheese Sandwich," but sounds like "Awwww... Cheese Sandwich," For the rest of the trip, every time that man passes by, I say "Awwww," and Chinua laughs.
*
Time for bed. We get the kids situated on their small bunks. This class provides blankets and sheets. They are hyper and have been climbing up and down the ladders all day. "Lie down and go to sleep," we say. YaYa says goodbye to her new friend, who will get off the train in the night.
*
Chinua waits for Becca and Cat's station in Bombay. I am trying to sleep, but am too wired because of the possibility that we won't find them. They get on, and relief washes over me. I am sleepily listening to their description of their adventure as extras in a Bollywood Film; the dance scene, the costumes. It all feels a little unreal, and I drift off...
*
The family in the booth next to me wakes up to get off of the train and they behave as though it is the middle of the day and we should all be up. Solo wakes up beside me and believes them. I spend three hours trying to get him to go back to sleep, but the loud talking and laughing and bright lights interfere. At 5:00 in the morning he finally drifts off.
*
At 7:00, my kids wake up. Argggh. My hips are bruised from the iron bar that was the joint where the two seats became my bed. Have I slept at all? Thankfully, the chai walla is ready and prepared.
*
YaYa is climbing off the walls. I cannot believe that I am on this train with these four children. We are supposed to board another train when we reach Delhi this evening. I'm not sure that I will make it.
*
By the landscape, it appears that we are in Rajasthan. Now there are sloping desert-like hills. Men squat in dhotis and turbans. We see many flocks of goats and water buffalo.
*
The train food is really good. I feed Solo bits of curried potatoes. He loves them. I've been holding him for so long that I feel like my arms will break off. Chinua takes turns, and Becca takes him for a while, but he always wants me when he sees me.
*
There are wheat fields all around us, and people are harvesting the wheat by hand. We see the sheaves lying tied on the ground, we see bundles of sheaves, and we even see golden stacks of grain. All done by hand. It's incredible, and I stare, fascinated, at the colorful people bending and swaying in the fields as we pass.
*
Monkeys are lined up along the tracks. We catch sight of them and then they are gone.
*
We discuss a change in strategy. We will stay the night in Delhi if we can find a good hotel. We take many, many trips to the bathroom. YaYa is a pro at squatting now. Everyone is fascinated by the fact that the toilets simply open onto the tracks. Poo on the tracks!
*
More chai. More Veg Pakora. More samosas. More bouncing off the walls. The kids in the next booth have become very tired of the train. The littlest one cries and I see his exhausted mother walking with him as I try to bounce Solo to sleep. She is Indian and wearing Salwar Kameez, I am Western and wearing a shirt and a skirt, but we could be sisters.
*
We call hotels and make a reservation, a little ways out of the busiest part of Delhi. I know now not to book two train journeys back to back, even if it seems convenient. 30 hours at a time is plenty.
*
Porters board the train and help with some of our things. The kids grab a hand. I have Solo in the carrier and Leafy in the stroller and bags to boot. Everyone has something and we make our slow way through the crowded station. There are people sitting everywhere on the platforms. I meet a set of stairs and am stumped. Leafy gets out of the stroller and tries to pick up the front to help me carry it up, but it is weighed down with too many bags in the back and we can't make it. I could almost cry from the sweetness of his gesture. One of the porters leaps down the stairs and picks up the stroller to carry it up. We follow.
*
We haggle with the taxi drivers. This is the India I remember, far from the softness of Goa. Chinua bursts out laughing at the high prices they start out with. Everyone is yelling, but no one means anything bad by it.
*
I head back in to get our money back for the tickets we will cancel. While I'm gone, YaYa needs to pee, and at a loss, Chinua helps her to squat by a wall (this is how it is done here). While she is doing her business, a giant rat scurries past her, two inches from her feet. "A mousie!" she cries. "A mousie, did you see the mousie? Kid A, I saw a mousie, so close to me!" she tells her brother excitedly as they rejoin the rest.
*
After we get to the hotel, after we climb the flights of stairs and order some food and get everyone in the shower and put the mats on the floor and I finally succeed in bouncing an over-tired and over-stimulated baby to sleep, I look around and take stock. There are cupboards in our room. ("A wardrobe, Kid A!" YaYa shouts, thinking of Narnia.) Our children have fallen asleep in their jammies, there are so many of them. We put them on mattresses on the floor, Leafy goes on the couch, Solo is in the bed with us.
"I'm so proud of them," I tell Chinua in a whisper. He nods and tells me the rat story. We look at our treasures and love them. Travel with them is tiring, but it has never been so magical.
in Traveling
Traveling 
Reader Comments (20)
I am mesmerised.
This is the serialised story of the wondrous adventures of the Journeymama family.... and I am completely hooked.
As far as I'm concerned, THIS is your other "novel," and we have the honour of following it, day by day, episode by episode.
Thank you so much for sharing. How I would love to see India and the whole world some time, and you make me believe that it is possible even with four children (though it does sound hectic ;))
Wishing you a safe journey.
And epistolary novels do qualify as novels.
Never stop writing Rae...it doesn't matter what you write about- novel or no novel. Your words and the pictures they create are breathtakingly beautiful.
Wow. I have just traveled 30 hours by train in India, and never left my home! I love it. Such vivid writing Rae!
Can't wait to hear you next entry! I might have to make some Chai to drink while enjoying it!
I could read about your life all day. Beautiful and breathtaking.
_Heidi
Thanks for letting all of us travel with you. Your words are so beautiful!
I was totally captivated reading of your train journey. Thank you so much for sharing. Your vivid descriptions were as beautiful as your photographs.
What a trip--thank you for letting us along. Your blog is better than the Discovery Channel and the Travel Channel combined!
Wow, such an awesome journey! You survived it....sounds like the kids were pretty good, they are becoming travellers, I guess they always have been having lived at the land and having to travel everywhere because of it being so isolated....miles to the grocery stores and other shops....
You made it what it was in your description, hectic, crazy, yet moments of peace and beauty....thanks for sharing. Hope you took some pictures as well, or your SH might have.
I was following quite well until you got to the rat! Yuck. Thanks for describing your journey and allowing us to be part of it.
I am always so moved by your writing ans the stunning pictures of your beautiful family. What a fabulous adventure!!
I can almost picture being there with you... someday.
Wow. Fantastic descriptions. I remember feeling completely overwhelmed by our measly 24 hour train journey in India and that was when our children were mere twinkles still. You rule.
Rae, thanks so much for these snapshots into your trip. You are so good at describing everything. I get anxious just thinking about being in your shoes with so many children. Congratulations for surviving the trip intact!! Poo on the tracks...eww. Amazing.
Thanks for sharing your grace, vision, and passions.
I love your descriptions of light.
Perhaps all of life is like that; it is not just what you see but who you see it with. Thanks for sharing.
30 hours on a train, 4 babies, 6 and under. you two are my new heroes.
you write beautifully.
This NEEDS to be one of your "other novels". I think my recurring comment on your site is "where do you find the mental fortitude to write like this in the midst of the many physical and emotional demands of your life?"...I am sure there are plenty of other mothers like you, doing what you're doing (though I'm unclear what you guys are doing...settling there? passing through? ministering?), but how many have your spirit, how many have a voice like yours, how many have your talent, and how many can put it all in writing at the end of the day??? I'm pretty sure you must be the only one...and really India is only the backdrop...it's the motherhood issues, the domesticity issues, the spiritualy, the marriage, the travel...all the other stuff that is truly compelling.
Okay, so I'm done. I don't know what my point was. Anyway, this is wonderful...particularly as I have had trouble getting motivated enough to strap my daughter (my one and only child) into her carseat and take her to Target to buy toilet paper.
Really, this was faublous.
Probably seems funny in a childlike way to you,but reading about your train ride and the term "chai walla" reminds me of sitting in the darkened theater with my husband a few weeks ago,watching Slumdog Millionaire and hearing this term so many times.... now reading your account which is so spell-binding and enchanting! I know to you,this is just your life...your everday...your reality.But isn't that what's so neat about the place where we've been placed for our Purpose? To us it's the present Reality...to someone else it's an unfolding story:)
[...] Owlhaven I love these scenes from Journey Mama’s travels through India with her young [...]
Reading this I hold my breathe, and don't realize until the end that I am panting a little, taking in the intensity of it. My own girlhood rushed back - three days on a train from St. Petersburg to Odessa - poo on the tracks.
I want to let my husband read this because it is so beautiful, but I am also a little afraid because he's already talking about India in longing tones. One global move and new baby feels like all I can handle this year...but there's always next year waiting!