Journey to Jaipur - Day 5

Most journeys involve some sort of adversity: a missed flight, delays, an illness. This morning, I feared I had created my own hurdle by refusing to forgo another helping of a spicy breakfast dish with beans and rice, meaning I found myself racing through the streets of Agra in the back of a 3-wheeled, motorcycle taxi called an autorickshaw.

The minutes until my train arrived vanished rapidly, and as I jumped out of the vehicle, I saw that I had only 2 minutes to spare, but my train number wasn't listed on the station monitor. Had I gone to the wrong station, or had the train already left?

One option remained - return to the dreaded service counter, where less than 48 hours earlier, a clerk had fired a projectile at my head.

A group of three men lingered in front of the window. In America, I would have waited anxiously for my turn. No time left. I set aside my Western manners and shamelessly pushed to the front, Indian style. I spied a slight opening.

"Which platform for Train No. 12403?" I shouted out. "Platform 5," he responded. I might make it.

Or maybe not. Platform 5 was the farthest from the station's entrance, and the train was already waiting.

I dashed toward it, my mind filled with visions of me having to leap through the doors as the train sped away. I should have known better. This is India. The departure was delayed by 45 minutes.

As I write this entry, I'm on my way to Jaipur, stretched out in a sleeper car. Forget planes. Trains are the only way to travel. A new Couchsurfer and new city awaits.