24 Hours

The following list typifies my average travel day. Having just finished my third of such days, I am seeing this pattern.

22:00 — Wrapping up at the bar, my travel buddies and I exchange e-mail addresses and handshake/hugs. I’m a bit buzzed because I had to throw down drinks to use up all of my local currency, which has no value. That’s because the next city won’t take it and the local currency exchanges are closed. I’m exhausted from the long day and look forward to the train’s bunk. But I’ll miss these guys. Good friends are tough to come by.

23:00 — The train is pulling away from the track and my heart is racing. The fear of a total catastrophe due to my lack of plans coupled with the excitement of repeating my last trip’s success produces a feeling that is as fine as any drug I have ever taken. I have tapped a vein by getting on this train.

00:00 — My cabin mate speaks English and loves to talk about America. He knows that Americans don’t visit this part of the world and he is curious as to what brings me this way. I give him one of the extra beers I bought and he lets me have some of his chips.

01:00 — I say goodnight to my friend and lay in my cabin’s bunk. A quick journal entry and I fall asleep.

03:00 — Border crossing, passport control. Because I washed my passport in my pants years ago, the authorities think that it might be fake. They give me a hard time and threaten to expel me from the train. I show them my California driver’s license and pantomime the reason for my passport’s condition with a laugh and smile. They don’t smile back but they give me my stamped passport.

05:00 — Train stops at intermediate destination. I jump out of bed thinking that its mine before being corrected by the conductor.

07:00 — I jump out of bed again because I was supposed to arrive at 06:30 and I think I’ve slept to an unknown destination. The conductor, who is absolutely sick of my false alarms, tells me that he’ll knock on my door when we arrive. I don’t believe him.

08:00 — I can’t sleep because I’m certain that I’ll miss my stop so I try reading.

09:00 — We arrive, a couple of hours late. The border crossing took longer than expected (longer than the train people expected but since they are all late it is exactly how long I expected) and now I’ve got to find a place to stay. A backpacker getting of the train offers to take me to his hostel.

10:00 — Dude’s hostel is full but the manager helps me find another.

11:00 — I’ve checked into my own hostel but can’t get in a bed until 13:00. I am incredibly fucking tired.

13:00 — I’ve got a bed, have taken a shower and shaved. I need money and food bad since I haven’t eaten in almost 20 hours.

14:00 — It took me 30 minutes to find an ATM and I was forced to eat McDonald’s before passing out. It was either that or the salted mystery meat. I’ll try that meat tomorrow.

15:00 — A nap will do me right at this time so I am heading back to the hostel. Once I walk in, there are two or three guys sitting in the reception area drinking beers and smoking cigs. I join in on the former and exchange some stories. One of them knows a cool site that we absolutely must see right now.

16:00 — This thing is certainly like nothing I’ve seen before and I’m glad I came out for it. But now the beers are wearing off and everyone wants to hit a pub.

18:00 — We’re all a little loopy from the frenetic drinking pace. Someone mentions this place at which we can order an entire meal for about $2 and have this particular item that is better there than any place in the city. We’re off again.

19:00 — Man, the dinner is good.

20:00 — Dinner complete, we’re heading back to the hostel to pick up some other people that wanted to join us for the night. We buy beers on the way back and frontload in the hostel.

21:00 — Someone knows of a club that is raging even on Sunday nights and we’re all ready to have some fun. Now our small group has doubled in size and everyone is ready for some excitement. More beers show up and we kill them all.

22:00 — As we leave the hostel for our two-mile walk to the club I’m reflecting on the fortunes of the day. Twelve hours ago I didn’t even know these guys but I’m immediately drawn to them for their adventuresome spirits and good-natured humor. I can imagine any one of them being a good friend of mine back in the states. Good friends are tough to come by.