I stepped out of Chennai airport one travel pack short of uneventful - one travel pack lighter than I left home with - but at least I had my Rough Guide on me, and three peanut butter sandwiches. Whatever you do, kids, make sure you keep your Rough Guide and peanut butter sandwiches in your hand-carry.
It's the perfect opposite of quiet and desolate out here in the village, but such is the pace and complexity of life that if the airline loses your bag, it's possible to survive with just one set of clothes. For a few days, I've washed the same shirt and underwear each night and slept naked, and wearing them the next day, crisp after a hot, dry night. It's wonderful and strange how quickly a human being can adapt to living in different worlds. After a few days, I'm at ease walking through the village, unconsciously dodging cow-pats and ducking through narrow alleys, grinning at shouting smiling playing children and bewildered looking adults.
From Chennai airport, it is a fifteen kilometre rickshaw-coaster ride to Egmore station, a gorgeous, deep red, Old-World magical steam-powered fairytale building on the front, and a hefty vaulted roof over the grimiest gorgeous, Old-World magical steam-powered fairytale train station in the history of rail travel in the back.
The first hint of dawn came at 4am as the station began to fill up. Despite being the only vellai karan at the station, I was ignored for the most part, although I did receive stares and one invitation from a priest to convert to Christianity. We read the first seven days of Genesis and he distilled "why God exists" into just one sentence for me: " God created everything, so how can there be no God?"
It's the perfect opposite of quiet and desolate out here in the village, but such is the pace and complexity of life that if the airline loses your bag, it's possible to survive with just one set of clothes. For a few days, I've washed the same shirt and underwear each night and slept naked, and wearing them the next day, crisp after a hot, dry night. It's wonderful and strange how quickly a human being can adapt to living in different worlds. After a few days, I'm at ease walking through the village, unconsciously dodging cow-pats and ducking through narrow alleys, grinning at shouting smiling playing children and bewildered looking adults.
From Chennai airport, it is a fifteen kilometre rickshaw-coaster ride to Egmore station, a gorgeous, deep red, Old-World magical steam-powered fairytale building on the front, and a hefty vaulted roof over the grimiest gorgeous, Old-World magical steam-powered fairytale train station in the history of rail travel in the back.
The first hint of dawn came at 4am as the station began to fill up. Despite being the only vellai karan at the station, I was ignored for the most part, although I did receive stares and one invitation from a priest to convert to Christianity. We read the first seven days of Genesis and he distilled "why God exists" into just one sentence for me: " God created everything, so how can there be no God?"
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