Tuesday, July 2 and Wednesday, July 3, 1929
Luckily our customs officer friend evidently returned to Calcutta on another train for we saw nothing of him. We didn’t miss being dirty when we landed at the North Station and were plenty glad to get scrubbed up at the Y. I washed all clothes and got everything mended.
One of these hot, cloudy, sultry days when you sweat all day long just because you indulged in four cups or so of tea for breakfast. I finally got my hundred berries dwindled by a little over 5 rupees due to a joy ride to Delhi and back. At that I got a lot for the exchange and original amount was Rs 275/8/0. As a rule we get from Rs 270 to 272.
Visited the American Vice Consul and found that both Mort and Frank were S.O.L. as their British visas had just expired and new ones cost ten clinkers per.
(Next trip to India, apply to Supt. RR for concession, if 2 or more in party, to travel 1st, 2nd, or intermediate at half or a third of regular prices.)
We said our adieus at four and an hour later I was rolling out of Howrah Station reading a bloody pirate story. The European compartment was very small, consisting of but two benches nearly the width of the car, but the four of us managed to get a little sleep. One was a boy of perhaps 21 or 22 who was returning to school in Madras where his uncle is superintendent. The second was near 20 and going to Madras on business. The third was possibly 32, a Eurasian who had studied in the Colorado School of Mines and is now working in customs near Calcutta. He had traveled the Dutch East Indies with a cricket team, was a decent sort of a chap, but didn’t impress me much.
Five minutes after leaving Howrah, mud villages and green pools half-hidden by palm and banana groves, were slipping by. The country had a decidedly tropical appearance, and was very flat. The next day a long line of cone-shaped mountains appeared on our right and were to continue down to the southernmost tip of India. All day we sped down this low coastal plain, in places well-cultivated, in others barren, sandy and cactus-grown. We passed over the second-largest bridge in India, the Godavara(?) Bridge, 9,096 feet in length, and a number of other good-sized rivers.
Late in the afternoon we had the bad fortune to stop at a station where an Anglo-Indian woman and three kids piled in on us with an incredible amount of baggage and junk of all kinds. Had a terrible time even getting ourselves into our 2×4 after this and couldn’t even open the door, but had to pile through the window if we wished to get out. No sooner in than the mob pulled everything out and commenced eating. After much trouble, we four boys fixed up about 3/5 of the car with baggage and pillows so the woman could sleep, but first the latter had to haul out more food and have another meal. Our end was at least large enough to sit up in, but the wood benches weren’t particularly soft. Such an enervating ride. Jute mills, then Madras looked pretty good the next morning.