“Chai! Chai!” an early morning tea-seller yelled as he walked through the coaches of the train, carrying a huge tin pot of hot tea and small plastic glasses. I turned around on my bunk, drew the sheet up to my nose and tried to get some more sleep. So far, I had slept surprisingly well during my first night in an Indian train: the steady rattling of the rails worked like a lullaby for me; the berth, though not very large, was comfortable. Unfortunately, about four more chai vendors kept me from dozing back to sleep, praising their tea in loud voices. With a sigh, I turned around again and tried to glimpse through the train window: the breaking dawn transformed the sky into a symphony of red and violet. Soon the sun would be out — and this meant that we would reach Agra shortly. The train was supposed to arrive at 6 o’clock and, as opposed to buses, it is likely to keep its timetable. I hence waked José, and we started to open the padlocks from our backpacks, put the few things we had needed for the night back into them, and shoulder their usual weight. Not too soon for, shortly after, the train slowed down and, together with all our belongings, dropped us at Agra Fort.
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