Kundalika River Camp, 9am
~ less than 3 hours sleep and sharing
breakfast with colleagues…
At 1am this morning,
mid-flight to Mumbai, my greatest fear was that I had left my iPod on the seat
at the boarding gate. I spent a solid thirty minutes digging, reshuffling and
searching through bags, travel wallets, money belts and whatnot on my desperate
quest to find my bloody iPod. Why did music have to get so damn small? Alas, those
kinds of concerns were nothing compared to the sleepless twelve hours of
overnight transit we’ve just endured.
We arrived
into Mumbai at 3.30am local time, or 2am Dubai time, after a 3-hour flight. It’s
not a long journey, but it’s tough to do at that time of night. With barely any
sleep, we shepherded the kids through passport control, customs and baggage
collections to finally meet our tour operator. Then, with seventeen hungry
teens in tow, we clambered aboard a bus for a four hour journey straight out of
the city to the Kundalika River Camp, our destination for the night. The lack
of sleep was completely exhausting – bleary eyed teens curled up in the corner
of a seat or roamed around aimlessly, chatting, yelling and twitching from
being overtired. We were fed semi-melted cheese sandwiches, barely touched by
the discerning-Dubaians, and cries of desperation began to grow as every
scheduled bathroom stop was closed at 5am in a city that really doesn’t get up
until ten. We couldn’t sleep, we couldn’t eat, and we couldn’t drink. This was
getting tough and our packs weren’t even on our backs yet.
The sun
began to rise over Mumbai as we reached less urban areas. Golden flickers of
sunlight cast themselves across the greenery and fields of vegetation. Oh, how
beautiful it was to be in a country once more where things grew naturally.
Gentle rays began to peek through the windows, in between curtains, lighting up
the faces of exhausted, sleeping youths. We were all cold on the bus, but didn’t
complain, well experienced with the humidity we were about to succumb to
outside. The city itself seemed so calm in the eerie, early hours: cleaner and
more developed than Kathmandu, less invasive and overwhelming that Bangkok.
There was no culture shock yet – just peace.
We’ve gathered
to eat a simple breakfast, where I’m forced to be very selective, sticking to a
samosa and black tea. Once more, I’m cautious about what I eat after the chicken
momo-gate scandal, and am desperate for at least an hour of sleep. Apart from
outbursts of bad language, the kids are well behaved and eager to find out what’s
happening next. There’s kayaking, a flying fox session and some orienteering
training this afternoon, but nothing is going to start until they hit the
pillow for just a while. We all need rest; we’re so out of fuel…
