We flag down a few rickshaws and load it all up. We arrive on the train platform and try to figure out where to go. Our Hindi is lacking, and by lacking, I mean practically non-existent. I curse my lack of effort 6 months ago when I could have been language learning.

“Where do we go?” we ask the other passengers. They point us to the two platforms. Each platform stretches though the jungle almost as far as I can see. There are monkeys sitting around on the track grooming bugs off of each other and ignoring us completely. Having two long platforms to grab the train from doesn’t really help us, so Nora, our team lead asks at the ticket counter. The young man inside points us to the very end of the first platform and we walk almost 5 minutes through the hot sticky air to get there with all our gear. By the time we get to our spot, I am damp all over.

The train is 30 minutes late, which has not been an uncommon theme for us. I can see people coming up to the station, but nobody is coming down to our area. Perhaps this 40 hour train ride won’t be too crowded. Suddenly with a loud wail, the train comes around the corner and into view. We stand and start to gather our items, but instead of slowing down, the train whips past us so quickly that it blows my curly hair all around my face and blocks my vision. As I push the hair out of my eyes, I can see the train start to slow down at the complete other end of the platform which feels half a mile away.

“Stick to the plan!” our young team lead yells in a panicky voice.

“What was the plan?” I ask out loud. I could swear one was never mentioned.

“RUN” screams Nora frantically grabbing up rubber maids and suitcases and taking off towards the train.

I can see why she’s the team lead. This is a clearly a well thought out plan that’s coming from the prefrontal cortex and not a fight or flight response. I hesitate for a second, and suddenly I’m the last person on far end the platform. There’s still a giant Rubbermaid on the platform which holds the remnants of a life that I promised to bring to the team in New Delhi. I’m not sure what’s in it, but I can’t just leave it behind. I grab the Rubbermaid which I think might weigh 100 pounds or more. (It’s realistically under 50, but I haven’t been working out much). My muscles strain as I grab the bulky blue tub and begin to run. In my head it’s a run, but in reality it may be more of a waddle. I can see everyone else starting to get to where the train has parked. One by one, they jump on until it’s just me.

For the first time the team lead looks back and notices that I still have a way to go.

“Faster”, she yells “They are leaving!” She is truly full of wise words today.

I’m only 10 yards off when I hear the screech of the wheels turning and realize that the train has officially started moving. I’m the only person on the platform. Thankfully, the train start up is slow and I reach the very last open door. My team mate Katrina reaches her hands for the tub and I hand it up. The train begins to pick up steam and I can see the end of the platform. Without the tub weighing me down I burst into a full sprint and throw myself into the door and onto the floor        of the train as it officially leaves the station. I’m pouring sweat, I’m on a very dirty floor, and 5 Indian men are looking down at me in pure confusion. But I made it!

We walk through the car and realize that we are a long way off from the sleeping berths we reserved. In the West, you can sometimes walk through a train car to get to the next one. On this train, that’s not an option. We are going to have to run again at the next station to try to get further up. Casey has pulled herself together a bit and is acting like a bossy leader again to make up for her emotional meltdown before. We stand in the doorway for 20 minutes until the next station. This time it goes fairly smoothly. We work together and we run down the platform to the right car.

We manage to lift up all our belongings and store them securely, though we know to still keep an eye on them during our trip. We agree to sleep in shifts as every stop brings a new round of merchants walking through the train car to peddle their wares. Everything feels very exciting for around 3 hours. Samosas and Nankhatai come right to us via friendly vendors, the jungle scenery is beautiful, and the people watching is fun. I end up with the sleeping berth that is the closest the ceiling with 2 stacked below, and three across from us. The blue wipeable mattress is almost non-existent, and if I fall off in the middle of the night it’s definitely going to hurt. The mattress hangs from the ceiling by thin chains, but they seem like they will hold my weight. Three hours down means… 37 hours to go. 40 hours didn’t seem so long when we were talking about it, but now that we are in process, time is moving slower than I ever thought possible. It’s the days before tablets and ipods, so I listen to my CD with my Walkman 3 times in a row, and then reread my novel I brought from home. I doze a little and we play some cards. 3 more hours pass. Only 34 to go.

I’ve been putting it off, but it’s time to use the bathroom. I shuffle down the train hallway to stand in line for the women’s. Everyone in front of me has large complex sari’s, and I’m just in a long skirt for this journey. If they can navigate the bathroom, I’m sure I can too. When it’s my turn, and go in and lock the door. In lieu of a toilet, there is simply a hole. The hole is big enough that I could fit my large foot inside of it and through the hole I can see train tracks passing by below with alarming speed. The train gently moves from side to side, and it’s hard to keep my balance just standing. I’m obviously not the only one with balance issues, as it appears that aiming though the hole was a challenge for many others. I find a semi dry and clean place to place my feet and hope for the best. I wish I could take my time, but people are knocking on the door.

With that mission behind me, I go back out and try not to think about what I’m bringing with me on the bottom of my shoes. The rest of the train ride is uneventful, but I am so bored that I feel it in my marrow. I become one with my bunk. I sleep, I look out the window, I question all of my life choices up to this point. We make up games, and we sing a little. Sometimes when the train stops, we get out and run to a different car just to see if there’s anything exciting. There’s not. There are however children. Beautiful and funny children who are just as bored as we are. We share our games, we share our snacks, and we share our language as they share theirs right back. I learn to count to 10, ask someone’s name, and how to do a goofy dance that makes the kids cry with laughter. More hours pass.

Hadley is easily the most spoiled girl on our team, who is never satisfied with the food we are given, and has a problem with all the accommodations. She takes more than her fair share of toilet paper and granola bars, but I can generally put up with her annoyances fine. I sit down across from her and we bemoan the slow passage of time. As we stop at another station, a man climbs on who has clearly been beaten down by life and has a pronounced limp. As Hadley has been making her way through the oranges she purchased, she has been making a little pile of orange peels next to her on the seat. The man comes up to her and points to the orange peels.

“Oh sure, you can have those” she says with a flick of her wrist and the man takes them away.

He comes back a few minutes later with an outstretched hand.

“What does he want?” she asks me after giving him a dismissive look.

“He wants a tip, Hadley,” I tell her. “He took your garbage away”.

“Oh gosh, I’m not going to tip him for that” she laughs. “He got some free orange peels. He can make his house smell nice or something”. I reach into my wallet to find a couple coins for the man, but before I can get them out, he’s gone.

Not a minute later, the man is back and I can see fury flashing in his dark eyes. He feels like a man scorned, and he is correct. He is carrying with him the garbage can from the end of the train. Without a word, he takes the entire garbage can, and tips it over Katie. Orange peels, remnants of curry lunch, used Kleenex, and more cover Hadley and her backpack as she lets out a scream. The whole car turns towards us and Hadley rises up to potentially fight this man. She doesn’t back away from conflict the way I do. But the man has timed it right. We hit the next station and suddenly he is gone and Hadley smells like garbage. We help her clean up most of the mess, because we are good friends, but also because we are extremely bored.  All she wants Is a shower, but we still have 30 hours left until we arrive.

We buy some henna and the women in the seat next to us decorate our hands in beautiful and intricate patterns. We remark on their beautiful clothing and they smile in thanks and shake their head from side to side. The one with the best English tells us they are custom made. Finally, after I’ve aged a decade and begun to give up hope of a life beyond this train car, we hear the garbled announcement. We have made it to New Delhi. A new adventure begins.

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