redrobin

RedRobin rides the rails

Just arrived into the colonial cool of ffice:smarttags" />Colombo’s Galle Face Hotel looking (and smelling) like a vagrant. The reason for this is that I decided to spice up the end of my trip and instead of shelling out £50 for a taxi to the capital I opted for the 4 hour train ride from Matara to Colombo. What a laugh, a way to see the countryside and the people of Sri Lanka.  That was the idea.

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Buying a ticket was easy as I was greeted by a beaming smile and a “good morning” from the ticket agent. The trip cost a mere 155 rupees which is about 80p. The train was not at a platform but people were wandering across the tracks to get on (thus breaking the number 1 rule of the Trans Siberian Railway – NEVER cross the tracks). The train could best be described as rickety and I was struggling to understand the difference between 3rd and 2^nd class. Perhaps no goats allowed in 2^nd? Despite getting to the station half an hour before departure there were no seats to be had at all. A feeling of dread came over me as I contemplated the 4 hours ahead. However, the train was not that busy and so I grabbed a seat on the filthy carriage steps and settled in. This was the beginning of the filth-accumulation. The train left bang on time – ‘this is going to be great’ I thought. That feeling lasted until the train spluttered to a halt mere metres outside the station and then began reversing back into the station so the hoardes left on the platform could get on.

Suddenly the train was heaving. Not a problem to someone who has the best seat in the house – legs dangling, white knuckles holding on, being swatted by the odd palm frond, nature’s air conditioning. However, after an hour and we reached Galle dozens of people squuezed on and this became progressively more sardine-like at each stop. It was standing room only in the carriage, in the aisles, in the gangways, even on the steps. The smug expressions of those with seats at Matara were wiped off as they found their armrests and footwells commandeered. More filth as I leant against the walls of the carriage, peeling paint and grime rubbing on my skin and once beige trousers. Constant jostling for position and re-arranging of limbs which went on for 3 hours. This was an ordeal, even for someone who has once journied from London Euston to Glasgow in the luggage rack of a Virgin Train. I survived by achieving a zen-like state and triumphed for the final hour after some clever manouevering got me a seat on the steps – years of training on London’s Central Line proving effective. The approach to Colombo is along the seashore and I took in the noon sun and was cooled by splashing waves; no doubt picking up a pebble dashing of more filth.

A major panic at Colombo Fort train station as I was on the outside of the carriage and my rucksack on a rack in the middle. Using some frantic pointing I secured help to have it passed out the window to me. The 2 minute tuk-tuk ride from the station to my hotel cost more than the train journey. The staff at Galle Face Hotel looked shocked at my dishevelled state and it is in there interests (and the comfort of other guests) that they hurry up and get my room ready!

19.4.06 10:00