Andhra Pradesh - 8th May, Saturday

The first eight hours of landscape passed me by in darkness and slumber as my mobile hotel hurtled south. By morning, the view could almost be one of English broad-leafed woodland, stretching for miles toward distant hills, with sliver-barked trees with fine drooping branches which could easily be silver birch, and the stature of others reminiscent of oak and elm. Some very British-looking pylons cut huge swathes through the scenery.
There are more palm trees here, and the wooded areas are thicker, but it is still mostly farmland. In one place, a man ploughs his field with an ox, while his neighbour drives a small but smart-looking (and by inference, fairly new) John Deere with a two furrow reversible plough. I still haven’t quite come to terms with the juxtapositions of these things. Rich/poor, old/new. In Rajasthan, a man who lives in a mud house, has a new JCB parked outside; a Delhi rickshaw driver in a vest and loincloth, texts on a camera-phone vastly superior in quality to my mobile.

Eventually the train crossed an area – the Deccan Plateau probably – where huge rounded rocks piled themselves on top of the hills and each other in gravity-defying arrangements. I can’t get over how smooth some of them are – perhaps it’s the effect of the sand-blasting.

Fly in the ointment? I travelled first class because the 2-, 3-tier classes were already booked. When you are about to leave the train, all those who have waited on you come round with a tray ……. except the poor old chaps in brown fatigues, who wash the floor and spray the curtains for mosquitoes, and empty the bins; they are no-where to be seen. I’m sure they need my money more than the purser in his clean company-issue shirt.