Saturday 23rd February - Living a Lie

We have been at the Bull for so long that it has started to feel like home. The staff are excellent and we have forgiven the lack of a laundry list. If you come to Pondy it's worth having a look at it. Today's breakfast treats include a dosa. The packing was done last night so it is just the last minute things to go in the bag. The car arrives about 15 minutes early. Cheapskate D had ordered the Economy car which comes at 100 rupees less than the Luxury. In the event the Luxury model arrives and the driver's docket confirms the Economy price. Being a Yorkshireman definitely has an upside.

On the drive out of town we realise that Pondicherry is much, much bigger than the Heritage Town at its heart. The roads are busy with buses and two wheelers. Once we clear the built up area the road is four lanes with a double white line down the middle. Our driver spends most of the time on the wrong side of the white lines, at one point overtaking someone who was well over themselves. The horn of entitlement and flashed headlights of invincibility are employed constantly. According to t'interweb the distance from  Pondicherry Old Town to Vilapuram Junction is 40 km. About two thirds of the way we cross from the Union Territory into Tamil Nadu state. There are large notices reminding travellers that Out of State Liquor is prohibited and the road narrows to two lanes. Not only does it narrow but there are frequent chicanes to cramp the style of Pondicherry taxi drivers.

We arrive at Villupuram Junction in good time. The station looks to have been recently rebuilt and operates on the egalitarian principal of having only one waiting room, regardless of ticket class. This works for us as we are on Sleeper Class tickets for today's trip. After about half an hour our train appears on the board. It means a move over the footbridge to platform 4, where fortunately there are plenty of shady benches. A PA announcement suggests that the train will arrive 5 minutes early. What we lack is any indication of whereabouts coach S4 will be on the platform when the train stops. R uses her initiative and asks a lady carrying rolled up flags and a wad of computer print outs. She tells us we are in the right place.

 The train rolls in about ten minutes late and we have to walk about two coach lengths so not too bad. Our pair of side berths are unoccupied and we waste no time in dumping the bags on the upper, whilst reassembling the lower into two facing seats. The coach appears to have only the regulation allocation of inhabitants, so there is plenty of room for everybody. For the bulk of the five hour journey south we will be on the shady side of the train. We even have a phone charging socket on the wall between the windows in our bay, a first for us in Sleeper.

In a while the Travelling Ticket Inspector arrives, looks at our ticket and starts asking questions. He wants to see our passports and even after that looks at us doubtfully. He is quite right so to do. D has obtained these seats by deception. The Indian Railways booking system automatically allocates inside lower berths to anybody over 55 and to any single women over 45. To get the side berths D has had to enter lower ages, in this case 35, hence the doubts of the TTE. Doesn't he realise that the hardships of life in the West make us age prematurely?

After this awkward moment we settle down to enjoy the trip. Train 16127 rattles along at a decent place and doesn't have too many stops. There is the usual parade of vendors including one optimist who was certain that R would not be able to resist the lure of his novelty keyrings. Lots of baskets of fruit went up and down the train and we learn that there is no Tamil name for pineapples. It was about three hours before a chai vendor appeared. Further north this state of affairs would not be tolerated for much longer than three minutes. Our neighbours were mainly quiet and lacking in serious bad habits. Some of them just slept in the upper bunks.

South India flies by as we watch between the bars on the windows. Lots of lush paddies, some shaded by carefully planted palm trees, mixed with semi arid scrubland. In the distance we can see mountains. Settlements are fewer and further between than many other areas of India. For the final hour into Madurai the sun has moved round far enough to make the metal parts around the windows too hot to touch. The weather app says sunny, 37°C in Madurai this afternoon and we see no reason to argue.

Virtually our entire coach is disembarking at Madurai, so there is a queue to deboard. We head for the nearest overbridge to discover that the steps are boarded up. We have to retrace our steps and walk half the length of the train to the other bridge, which does at least have an escalator. After we cross the bridge to the East side of the station we discover that the escalator there is not functioning and we have to walk rather gingerly down it. This diversion has pretty much doubled how far we have to walk to our hotel.

It is stonkingly hot and we are relieved that we only have to cover a couple of hundred yards once we exit the station. The Madurai Residency has AC in reception and we are soon seated waiting for a room. It only takes a few minutes before a porter lifts our rucsac and we follow him to the lift, which is a strange triangular thing with a rear window overlooking the atrium which extends from the lobby up to the sixth floor. He then leads us through a maze of corridors to our room, small but perfectly serviceable. We pass several other lifts on the way. This hotel considers itself to be the best choice in Madurai for businessmen and proves it by providing a kit containing 3 paperclips, 3 rubber bands and 2 pins.

Flopping onto the beds we let the AC work it's magic. We have done nothing very physical today but are drained. Showers revive us and we head down to the lobby to suss out the bar. On asking for directions the uniformed doorman shows out of the front door, along the pavement and down the ramp into the basement car park. A discreet door at the bottom opens into the gloom. The bar itself is quite brightly lit and the barman seems genuinely delighted to see us. We have a beer and eat the complimentary crisps and microwaved peanuts while watching some kind of Tamil movie song and dance greatest hits collection on the huge television screen. Microwaved peanuts are pretty disgusting.

For supper we return to the lobby, take the lift up to the rooftop restaurant and are guided to a table in a niche overlooking a major intersection. It is a  surprise when we are offered beer, which does not appear on the menu, and which we had assumed was restricted to the dungeon. We have spring rolls followed by Spicy Shredded Lamb, Cauliflower kebab and Kashmiri Pulao rice. All delicious. No rocking to sleep required tonight.