Round the World Journal
by Matt Donath
Oct 9. We walk over a lovely broad river basin into India. The river weaves drunkenly from bank to distant bank. A parade of bicycle rickshaws pass us by.
The Indian customs official is a bit dour, but the immigration officer is probably the friendliest I've ever met. We spend 20 minutes chatting with him.
The rest of the day is tortuously arduous. First, we have a crushing, breakneck, stop-and-jolt ride into Siliguri. There we are introduced to the endless queues for Indian rail tickets. I have flashbacks to China, but the queues here are more orderly (not saying much) and move even slower. We stand in lines for many, mind-numbing hours. Finally, we endure a treacherous three-hour bus ride up to Darjeeling. When I can avoid looking down at the mere millimeters that separate us from plummeting off a road in dire need of repair, I am treated to marvelous views.
We arrive in Darjeeling on a beautifully cool, crisp night. Climbing up the crowded, twisting streets, we lodge at the Aliment Guesthouse (highly recommended).
Oct 10. October should be a time for clear skies and perfect views in Darjeeling. Unfortunately, the weather has been highly unusual, with lingering monsoon conditions. Doesn't matter much as I'm not feeling well and have fevers at night.
So, we stroll around town a bit, passing the Chowrasta with its pony rides, and visit the "Woolen Expo." Here we see jumpers and other woolen products from all over India.
"Uncle," the Aliment owner, explains why the roads around Darjeeling are perpetually in a bad state of repair. Corrupt contractors grab the money and do minimal work. He says the government is starting to hire foreign contractors. A British company recently built the solidly constructed bridge to Kakarbitta we walked over.
We talk with a guy at the Tourist Information Office. After telling us that no, there are no ATM machines anywhere in this region of India, he expounds: "In the US, you are flying. In Bombay, they are running. In Calcutta, they are walking. Here in Darjeeling, we are sleeping."
Not everyone in Darjeeling is sleeping though. All night we hear chanting ("hare Krishna"), music, and cymbal banging.
Oct 11. Continuing to recover from various ailments, we spend the day researching trekking in the Singalila Range. The Aliment is the best place to do this as they have an extensive library and a good Guest Comment Book.
{BTW, If a reader is headed for the Aliment, could you please print out a copy of my notes for Annapurna and Singalila (next chapter) and drop it off there? I'd like to contribute to their trekking resources. Thanks!}
Oct 12. Just below the busy streets of the city, we stroll through the small but relatively peaceful Lloyd Botanical Gardens. The shrill sounds of cicadas and toy train whistles compete with each other, but here we find lebensraum, so precious to a foreigner in India. The lovely flowers partially mask miles of barbed wire fences. Ancient trees are helpfully labeled. The seemingly perpetual clouds graciously lift just enough to offer a view of the cascading valleys below.
After walking out of one place that didn't even serve tea (!) we have a proper Darjeeling tea at Glenary's, munching cucumber sandwiches while working out the complicated details of upcoming train travels. Then we lunch at the family run Dekeva's on their momos, bhalay bread and green tea. When the friendly Tibetans see that I like hot sauce on the momos, they bring out a considerably hotter version.
Oct 13-15. I'm sick with flu-like symptoms. I sleep a lot. I read India history books and Tintin comics. In one Tintin episode, his dog Snowy snaps at a bullying "sacred cow" in India. An enraged Hindu sees this and ties the poor pup to an altar, in preparations for sacrificing the infidel dog to Shiva! Fortunately, Snowy is rescued.
Hey, how come Tintin never gets sick while traveling the world?
One of my sick day tasks is to remove the staples from the wad of 100 rupee notes Sybil picked up at the bank. India has a bizarre currency situation, with few large or small denomination bills. Consequently, you have to carry large wads of 100 rupee notes and many people can't make small change. Since small bills haven't been printed for years, any you see are on the verge of disintegration.
Insanely, in order to transport all the 100 rupee notes, the banks use huge staples to wad them together in groups of one hundred. Our wad had about 8 staples through it from either side. Worse, the staples get bent and twisted into each other, creating a Chinese puzzle when you attempt to remove them. The task is greatly complicated by the fact that many of the bills have been stapled together so many times that large holes form in them. When the holes get too large no one will accept the bill!
We do get out to explore the active markets near the base of the ridge. The tiny chai stalls entice us in for tea and samosas. At the wholesale produce market, workers shovel ginger and potatoes into huge gunny sacks. A row of tailors working busily at antique machines catches Sybil's eye.
One day, while walking around the Observatory Hill, we find the ruins of British garden parks. Deserted now, they are representative of the deteriorating state of this beautifully scenic area. Plagued by water shortages, electricity outages, poor roads and generally crumbling infrastructure, Darjeeling somehow manages to maintain its hill station charm. We perambulate a locked and ruined greenhouse, relishing the lush quiet space around us. Yes, I think the trees and the hills are the saving grace of this town.
Oct 16. Feeling a bit more energetic today, we strike further afield. A morning ramble along winding dirt paths eventually leads us to the Peace Pagoda. Built by Japanese Buddhists in the 70's, tasteful sculptures depicting scenes from the Buddha's life surround a large stupa. Monks chant and bang drums in a slow hypnotizing rhythm.
Our afternoon jaunt leads us to the opposite end of town, down by the Happy Valley Tea Plantation. After a short tour of their factory (fabulous smells!) we stroll through beautiful hills covered with tea plants. The walking around here is great!
We climb up towards the zoo but find it closed. The Chief Minister is in town. The army is out in full force to maintain security. So, we stop for tea and momos at the Hot Stimulating Cafi. Say hello to Kiran Rumba there for us - sorry we couldn't make it back there.