Our last day in Goa was spent saying goodbye to friends and packing our rucksacks. As our train wasn't until 10pm we should have had plenty of time to be orginised but, true to form, everything was a last minute dash. Early evening we went down to the beach for our last sunset, G & T and a bite to eat. Suddenly we realised the time had disappeared, as it so often does in Goa, so it was a mad dash back on the bike to the house for showers and last minute packing. Friends turned up at the house so by the time the taxi arrived we had to stuff what we could see into the rucksacks and hope we hadn't left anything. Nothing changes!
When we had travelled from Dheli to Goa we had booked 3 tier air conditioner seats, but this time we had booked 2 tier. It is the same as 3 tier except that, instead of 6 people sharing a comparment, it is only 4. However as we were on the right side of the train, because of space, it only has room for one bunk at the bottom and one at the top, so we had our own wee private compartment. It was a bit of a restless sleep overnight as it was not a fast direct train but stopped at many stations, with people getting on and off the train and in and out of beds.
These trains are not like the Rajdhani trains that we got from Dheli to Goa, where food is included in the price and served to you. So at six in the morning you are woken by people walking through the train, one selling tea, one selling coffee, one selling omlette, biryani, tomato soup etc. each of these people hollering about what they are selling. I sleep with ear plugs in India so I slept through some of it but Colin was woken when the hollering started. By the time I woke up Colin had already had breakfast. As you would expect from Colin he had not bought breakfast from the sellers on the train. He had waited until the train stopped at a station, jumped off the train, found a food stall that had the most amount of locals buying from it and bought himself an egg curry and Indian bread. At least he managed to get back on the train before it left the station which meant when I woke up I wasn't on an Indian train with 2 rucksacks and no Colin!
We arrived at Cochin and decided to get a rickshaw, rather than a taxi, for the 14k journey to the homestay, where we would be staying. Cochin is comprised of small Islands conected by brides and ferries. We were staying in Fort Cochin, which is the outermost Island. We chose this place to stay as it is quite tranquil, especially compared to the main town of Ernakulam where the train station is located.
It would have been helpful though if the rickshaw driver had told us that, once he crossed the bridge over into Fort Cochin, he didn't know his way around and certainly no clue as to where Heavenly Homestay was. This resulted in us having an unwanted tour of Fort Cochin, stopping other rickshaw drivers and pedestrians to try and get directions - one saying left, one saying right and one saying straight on! Finally we remembered that we had the telephone number for the homestay which we gave to the rickshaw driver. Then it was time for the white knuckle ride. Not, only was the driver constantly blowing his horn, whizzing around buses, cars, bike, cycles, pedestrian, dogs holes in the road etc, which is the normal way to drive in India (and the way that Colin rides the scooter), but he was doing it while speaking to the homestay on his mobile phone and trying to follow directions!
We surprisingly got there in one piece to a really warm welcom from Patrick the owner and I am sure that the pre-agreed price of the rickshaw couldn't have covered the amount of petrol used to find the homestay.
When we had travelled from Dheli to Goa we had booked 3 tier air conditioner seats, but this time we had booked 2 tier. It is the same as 3 tier except that, instead of 6 people sharing a comparment, it is only 4. However as we were on the right side of the train, because of space, it only has room for one bunk at the bottom and one at the top, so we had our own wee private compartment. It was a bit of a restless sleep overnight as it was not a fast direct train but stopped at many stations, with people getting on and off the train and in and out of beds.
These trains are not like the Rajdhani trains that we got from Dheli to Goa, where food is included in the price and served to you. So at six in the morning you are woken by people walking through the train, one selling tea, one selling coffee, one selling omlette, biryani, tomato soup etc. each of these people hollering about what they are selling. I sleep with ear plugs in India so I slept through some of it but Colin was woken when the hollering started. By the time I woke up Colin had already had breakfast. As you would expect from Colin he had not bought breakfast from the sellers on the train. He had waited until the train stopped at a station, jumped off the train, found a food stall that had the most amount of locals buying from it and bought himself an egg curry and Indian bread. At least he managed to get back on the train before it left the station which meant when I woke up I wasn't on an Indian train with 2 rucksacks and no Colin!
We arrived at Cochin and decided to get a rickshaw, rather than a taxi, for the 14k journey to the homestay, where we would be staying. Cochin is comprised of small Islands conected by brides and ferries. We were staying in Fort Cochin, which is the outermost Island. We chose this place to stay as it is quite tranquil, especially compared to the main town of Ernakulam where the train station is located.
It would have been helpful though if the rickshaw driver had told us that, once he crossed the bridge over into Fort Cochin, he didn't know his way around and certainly no clue as to where Heavenly Homestay was. This resulted in us having an unwanted tour of Fort Cochin, stopping other rickshaw drivers and pedestrians to try and get directions - one saying left, one saying right and one saying straight on! Finally we remembered that we had the telephone number for the homestay which we gave to the rickshaw driver. Then it was time for the white knuckle ride. Not, only was the driver constantly blowing his horn, whizzing around buses, cars, bike, cycles, pedestrian, dogs holes in the road etc, which is the normal way to drive in India (and the way that Colin rides the scooter), but he was doing it while speaking to the homestay on his mobile phone and trying to follow directions!
We surprisingly got there in one piece to a really warm welcom from Patrick the owner and I am sure that the pre-agreed price of the rickshaw couldn't have covered the amount of petrol used to find the homestay.
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