“Hey, look what I found at the shop!” Richard ran toward us, grinning from ear to ear, holding up a copy of a book entitled “The Dumb and the Dumbfounded”. “Good title for a series,eh?” We were at the rail station trying to pass the time since our train from Goa to Kannur, in Kerala State, would be delayed at least an hour. My Canadian friend Esther was on her first trip to India, and I was trying to convince her that this train would be much better than the one I took in Orissa when a cockroach crawled over my blanket as I was trying to sleep. “We’ll be in chairs in an open car, it’s really lovely”. Although skeptical, she seemed slightly appeased.

A group of Tibetans had just arrived on the platform and the women were busily fingering their prayer beads, while the men were crowded around one of the accompanying Buddhist monks. They were in earnest conversation with hands and arms flailing about. One of the elder women, dressed in a sarong of bright red handwoven cloth, thick strands of turquoise and coral hanging from her neck alongside a pendant with a photo of the Dalai Lama,was staring at me. I was wearing my usual travel gear: red Indian baggy pants and a scarf embellished with gold flower patterns. My reward for dressing in local style was a betel nut stained,red-toothed smile of approval.

I thought there must be a big meet up with the Dalai Lama or some such religious event and we were all venturing a guess at where they were from and what they were doing here. When I asked, the unexpected response was simply “We are going to the beach”. That’s what you get for stereotyping.

Gerald ran up and down the platform trying to find out exactly where we should be standing to board our train. The platforms were connected by a foot bridge, involving carrying the luggage up and down flights of stairs, and we didn’t want to schlep more than necessary. Richard volunteered to look at the digital board at the entrance since he was the most fleet-footed and the train was scheduled to arrive in twenty minutes.

Meanwhile it was ten minutes before the trains arrival and we couldn’t see Richard. Esther was panicked that he might not make it back in time and would miss the train. “I am not leaving without Richard!” She was adamant.

Finally the train arrived, and baggage in hand, all four of us leaped over the small space between the platform and the train step. A long narrow corridor separated the seats/sleeper bunks and two tier curtains functioned as privacy barriers. Not exactly the “cockroach train”, but definitely a bit of a disappointment since our tickets were first class A/C. We settled in, deciding to put our luggage in the upper bunks and positioning ourselves across from each other. The window, although stained with dirt and mud allowed a filtered view of the lush countryside of palm trees, rice paddies and backwaters.

Within minutes out came the jar of peanut butter, crackers and tasty little bananas. “Meals on Wheels” arrived in the form of Biriyani lunch containers with a choice of veg or non-veg. The aroma of cloves and cardamon lured us into trying one of each. Rice was well seasoned but finding the veggies and the chicken was cause for another round of hysterics. The other passengers in the car must have thought those foreigners are really crazy.

First order of business: Esther and I decided to check out the bathrooms. I had noticed a sign saying “Bio Toilet”, and that sounded promising. There were two- one on each side of our train car. Esther peeked in one. “This one’s a squatter, but it’s clean”. That meant that we could drink water during our eight hour ride and not worry about having to use the toilet. With confidence I went into the second “European style” one, to do my business. Better early on than later when too many people have already been there. The first thing I noticed was the three locks. THREE LOCKS???!!!! What is that all about, I didn’t want to even think about it.

No sooner did I pull down my pants that the train jolted to a halt and I was practically knocked over into the toilet. When I got back to my seat we all broke out into hysterics again and couldn’t stop laughing. Traveling with good friends makes challenges entertaining.

Surprisingly, the conductor made up an hour of our delay by speeding by some of the scheduled stops, leaving bewildered passengers running helplessly alongside the train which only comes once a day.

I did not feel at all guilty thinking “Better them than us”. Such are the joys of travel in India.