Perfect.

Written February 15th at Miraj Junction Railway Station.

What better time to reflect on train stations and night travel than at six am in Miraj? Arriving at four-thirty this morning walking on the footbridge over the tracks, I think to myself "perfect". And I don't think I'm being sarcastic.

We got on the bus in Mt. Abu at eight pm - the night bus to Ahmdevad. In our narrow seats, we ask enough questions and receive enough help from the passengers behind us - the bus will let us off near the train station. With a noon train to Mumbai, there will be enough time for chai, breakfast, and a walk to a few mosques.

How right we were - at two am we arrive. Needless to say, we are early. Luckily, a chai stall is open. With so much time, it seems worth finding a guest house. But, we don't really know where we are, so we do what we never ever do - trust a rickshaw driver to take us to a cheap guesthouse. Of course, where he takes us is full, no rooms. Going to the train station (blocks form where we originally were) and lacking the energy to argue with the overpriced and useless ride, we wander around the busy platforms. People are sleeping everywhere, or sitting huddled under shawls sipping chai. After a while, we sit down too. For hours we watch the world watch us, watch everyone pass the time. Finally, the sky brightens and we take to the streets to idle away what time is left.

The mosques were indeed beautiful.

By eleven-thirty we make it back to the station, exhausted. At least we have a reservation, we can lay down and sleep on the train all day.

Turns out we're on the local train (never trust the word "express"). One hundred stops between Ahmdevad and Mumbai means a very busy train. I'm in an upper side berth, which means I can lay down. But Jon, below, gets no rest. A lot of guys his age really want to talk to him; people sit on his feet, cram for an inch on the side, until he gets up. The flow of passengers slows down in the evening. We sleep.

Turns out local trains are never late. We pull into Mumbai dutifully at four am. At Dadar Station, we are told it is the last stop, even though our ticket says we go all the way to Mumbai Central. Working on the tracks, apparently. It doesn't take too long before a helpful soul tells us which suburban train to take from which platform. But we still need to kill time, get our couchsurf host's information. A taxi driver tells us which station to go to for internet cafes open at this terrible hour. Easy, the man says when we go to buy tickets - go back to Dadar Station and then transfer trains to CST. Platform One and then Three. We ride the train. For fourty-five minutes. Something is wrong. We are in the suburbs. We ride back. We are hungry. We walk around and - of course - discover another Platform Three. The other train line. After almost four hours, we make the fifteen minute journey.

Lesson - when arriving in a big city, have a metro map on hand.

So now, at Miraj at six am, we wait for our nine am connecting train. "Perfect".

The trains are only on time when you've scheduled time for them to be late.

(And, my thought this morning when we got into Begaluru before four thirty am, early when you'd prefer them to be just a little behind schedule.)