Finding yourself alone in the middle of the night in an unknown land with no place to stay can be worrying. Even more so when a bunch of teenagers are hanging around you and no taxi is in sight...
When I landed in Bharatpur, India, it was much later than I had expected. Indian trains are surprising, incredible, exciting but not punctual
The station is deserted. While I usually struggle to fend off the tuk-tuks that assault passengers as they get off the train, tonight there are none. Empty, nothing, nada. It’s annoying because I don’t know where to sleep tonight. I thought I’d ask the drivers for information, it usually works. Fortunately I remember the name of a guesthouse recommended by another traveller I met in the previous city. An easy name to remember : “jungle house”.
Nobody around, except for a bunch of young boys doing the kakus on their mopeds, exactly like in France
They seem to find me very funny, they laugh loudly and point at me. I ask them with a smile and politeness if they know this providential hostel.
Apparently they do. I ask them if they can take me there. That’s the last straw. They roll around on the floor laughing. It’s like it’s the first time they’ve talked to a stranger. I don’t see what’s so funny about my request, but they find the situation hilarious.
One of the boys, bolder than the others, boasts: “Yes! yes, 500 rupees!“. Here, this sum represents an exorbitant price for a moped ride. And he continues to show of in front of his friends with a lot of jokes.
I am not a belligerent person. I really am. But there are limits
Arriving late, being lost, loaded, without a roof under which to shelter for the night, is a little worrying but there’s no need to panic. However, to find myself the target of scorn from five teenagers who make fun of me on top of everything else is too much. A rush of anger overcomes me. I throw my North Pole-machine gun look and launch a tirade straight out of an Avenger: “Very very funny, indeed, very funny! I’m tired, I’m a stranger and I’m lost. It’s late so… “(western silence). “You either help me or shut up! (in English: Shut up!)”. I get a bit more upset, “look at me, I just need help now! “.
I lift my huge bag, throw it on my back, like a cowboy leaving for far far away, with contempt and without a word.
I may have gone a bit too far there…
It’s having a stuning effect. Everyone calms down. They come closer and start to discuss firmly not about the price but about who will take me on his moped! Don’t panic, we share. I give my big bag to X and ride with Y. We start riding, riding, riding. After 10 minutes, I start to worry about the outcome of this adventure. The distance seems enormous. The Guesthouse should be closer to the town centre. We drive down a dusty road towards the plains and forests.
I can’t see any house lights. It is total darkness
Maybe it’s time to worry now, right? Maybe it’s time to panic. Maybe these boys are working for a gang? I curse myself. A tourist who falls right into their lap, who they can take to a quiet place to rob of a few items and money, I’m really too easy a prey. I’m going to get screwed like a fish!
I make an inventory of what I might lose: camera, computer, credit card, a little cash. I’ll survive without all that. I mentally line up arguments to get them to leave me my computer, I have all my photos in there.
I don’t really think they want to kill me, but you never know. I’m doing my best to stay calm as we’re still driving on a road in the middle of the fields, outside the city.
Let’s stay calm and prepare for the worst: what else can we do?
What interest would they have in chopping me up? No, no fear, they seem to be good boys. Very good boys. Nice guys. Sure.
And we’re still driving. It’s dark dark dark, I still have hope. So what can I do but wait for the final scene with who knows, the arrival of the cavalry?
The journey takes a few more kilometres and we finally arrive. Not much around, a few low huts, a couple of street lights but nothing like a town or village.
The boys get off their bikes and put the bag on my back. I say nothing and wait for the next part. The head rooster holds his arm out towards the light, like a Sioux “House! “.
In the distance, there is a house surrounded by trees that looks nothing like a Guesthouse
But if you get a little closer, yes, you can see the letters “ouse” on a piece of decrepit wall. That’s it, we have arrived at the Jungle House. I bow low, I say thank you five times. I walk with the most confident step towards the house, in the darkness. I can’t believe their benevolence, but above all, I’m surprised that I was worried like that.
When I think back to this story and to what sometimes happens in my 93 home country, I tell myself that the world outside France is definitely not as scary as we think!
Civilian militia armed with pitchforks and Kalashnikovs, a few cows and some strangers. No, seriously, nothing to panic about…
