We left Chandipur early due to the unfriendly and unaccommodating 8am check-out time. In actual fact those adjectives nicely sum up the people working in the Asha Nivas guesthouse too. We proceeded to spend the entire day catching rickety, over-crowded, stifling hot, dirty buses from one staggeringly dilapidated town to the next. Along the way there wasn’t any semblance of tourist infrastructure to encourage us to stop and take in the sights. Baripada and Jashipur are both supposed to be jumping off points for Similipal National Park – not a chance. As we passed through and changed buses in Baripada we saw absolutely no evidence of tour operators, safari jeeps or even a grotty guesthouse so we decided to keep moving.
We pressed on to Jashipur as we’d found a lodge on the internet so thought that if all else failed we’d have somewhere to sleep for the night. In reality this ‘lodge’ was an almost disintegrating collection of buildings that resembled a refugee camp. Steve was immeasurably relieved that he hadn’t booked on-line as that would have meant paying Rs2500 a night up front. It wasn’t worth tuppence ha’penny! Unfortunately this was the one and only option in town so, even though it was already late afternoon, we were forced to move on. We tried to pay the man and arrange a taxi but failed due to; a breakdown in communication, another silly price quote and ultimately, a lack of vehicle. So we hopped on the most uncomfortable bus of the day to Jamshedpur where we’d re-join the rail line.
Once there the town didn’t inspire us to enquire about hotels and we couldn’t bare another rammed, dirty bus or train so set to work haggling for a taxi fare to Ranchi. This much larger conurbation was actually in our Lonely Planet so we knew there was a range of places to stay. We finally agreed on the inflated, though not wholly outrageous, fare of Rs2000 and slid into the back of the car feeling extremely despondent. However, we felt our fruitless, frustrating day was about to end; we’d be delivered to the door of the BNR Hotel where we’d be able to rest and adjust plans in comfort. Guess what? It didn’t quite pan out that way.
It was past 10pm by the time we arrived in Ranchi and the driver took us to the wrong hotel. Since we were there, we enquired about prices but it was way over our budget. Luckily our taxi was still around so we asked him to take us to the destination we’d arranged when establishing the price. He had the cheek to say that would be an extra Rs200 even though he was yet to fulfil his end of the bargain. Anyway, with kind assistance from the staff of the hotel whose drive we were parked in, we were finally driven to the BNR Hotel at no extra cost. We anticipated this being a bit of a treat, but an affordable one, as we knew the hotel had been converted from the old railway station and would ooze colonial charm. In actual fact the receptionists had their noses firmly stuck in the air and looked at us as if we’d just crawled out of the gutter. At US$100 a night it was way beyond even our splurge budget but that didn’t give the staff the right to treat us with such condescension.
There were heaps of hotels down Station Road but it took us two long, exasperating hours to finally secure a bed for the night. We walked in and out of every hotel down the strip to discover they fell in one of two categories; not allowed to permit foreigners or in the $100 a night price bracket. Nothing is ever that black and white and, while the above is basically true, we felt that some hotels wouldn’t admit us and others could have reduced their price. Considering the late hour and the fact that no more trains were due that night we were dismayed that the hotels stubbornly refused to compromise on the price. We wandered aimlessly up and down the street feeling exasperated and frantically trying to work out what our options were. Our underlying emotions were sadness and disappointment and we wondered aloud when Indians had lost their hospitality, friendliness and good grace.
At our wits end we decided to go and check out the train times but nothing would be leaving the station before 6am. We sat on a bench pondering our next move, including just hanging around on the platform, but the swarms of hungry mossies soon had us scurrying away. Besides which it would have been far too demoralising to join the legions of people already bedded down for the night. On re-emerging from the impromptu dormitory a tuc-tuc driver said he knew a place that accepted foreigners, was clean and only Rs1200. With no alternative in sight we jumped in but alarm bells were ringing when he demanded a silly price for taking us round the corner.
It transpired the room actually cost Rs2000 a night but having exhausted our options we had no choice other than to check in. As is Steve’s habit, he flicked through the TV channels and we were amazed to find the City v Wigan game. We were too wound up to sleep and watching City grind out a win helped to ease the tension. It was 2am before we extinguished the light at the end of a very long, wearisome day where we ended up in a town with nothing to offer. The Sikkim Alternative Plan was failing; we’d have to try and salvage something in the morning.
