The porter

So a fond farewell to Jaipur and Naresh – the train wobbled its way south via Ajmer (the holiest city in India for both Muslim and Hindu) and on to Chittorgarrh.  There we used to have to change trains onto a narrow gauge but the wide gauge has been installed so there was no let up in the almost continuous wobble 2" right and 2"left, 70-75 times a minute and believe me I counted it many times in the course of the 9 hour journey – longer than it took to fly from London to Delhi!  But for the first hour after we left the city I stood at the open door revelling in the breeze and aware that if the door slammed shut while I was holding onto it that when it was closed I should be outside holding on for dear life. Arriving at Udaipur one is besieged by porters with barrows – unlike the laid back ones in Jaipur who carried my luggage and then stayed with me till the train came and put me in my seat. The porter here put on my luggage and then piled a family’s luggage on top of it and then ran away as fast as he could through the crowds.  I caught up with him and found out his armband number and then happily met up with Yusuf who had come to meet me.  The porter crossed the tracks but I had to climb up and over so was happy not to carry my bags.  Yusuf brought me to the same guest house that I stayed in last time and I even have my old room back.  So now to bed in the hope that my liver has been thoroughly jiggled and perhaps the whole of my body toned.
the journey