Day 6: Sikkim

A whole day of sightseeing in wonderful Sikkim. We stopped to look at some paddy fields, an idyllic scene.





We didn't see any other tourists, and everyone was really, really friendly.



We passed a lot of children walking to school. They start very young, three and a half, so there were some tiny little dots getting along the road in their uniforms with backpacks on. Really, really sweet!

It was a day of many monasteries. The first one was Rumtek, the biggest in Sikkim. I found the temple there a bit odd. Rumtek is the base of a reincarnated lama, the Karmapa Lama, who lives in Dharamsala (there's some controversy about whether he really is the reincarnation; another monk is also claimed to be the Karmapa. Read about it here. The Karmapa is head of the Black Hat sect. Anyway the odd part for me is that the main temple, a huge, wonderful space with gorgeous wall paintings, thousands of buddha images and hangings, has a great wall built at the back, right in front of the main statue of the Buddha. In front of the wall, facing the monks, is the throne of the Karmapa, with a big photo of him sitting in it. There's about two feet of space between the front of the altar and the wall - you have to squeeze in to see it. It's almost as if they are so obsessed with the idea of reincarnated holy men that they've discounted the holiest of all, the Buddha. You can't take photos in there, but it was very beautiful.

Skipping ahead a little, I asked our Bhutan guide about this thing of the importance of the lamas. He said that in Tibet the monks had focused too much on different sects and chosing lamas and had fallen out over differences. China had been able to take advantage of their lack of unity and take over. In Bhutan, however, although they have loads of reincarnated lamas there are no sects, and they focus more on Buddha and his teachings. Thus no-one had ever conquered them, because they were united.

Back to Rumtek: upstairs there was an elaborate gold stupa studded with coral and turquoise that has the ashes of the previous incarnation of the Karmapa in it. A little boy monk was minding the shop. There was a mat set up in a corner with a low table holding a scripture - long rectangular sheets threaded together between wooden covers - and he was supposed to be sitting there studying it. But he was listening to the radio, a little tranny plugged into the shonkiest bit of electrics, a fuse board fitted with sockets. Gurmay ticked him off for having it on too loud - he was flipping through the stations, wee tyke.













We also visited Enchey, a very old monastery that was damaged in an earthquake or a fire or both (it was all a bit vague) and is now being repaired, restored and expanded. It was fascinating seeing the work going on. Most was being done in very traditional ways, but some of the carving was in wet cement rather than wood, so as to be more fireproof I assume.





Another highlight of the day was a visit to a handcraft factory - we saw artisans at work painting, carving, weaving and sewing. The painting was really interesting, very detailed and beautiful thangkas or devotional images. We learned more about this in Bhutan.





A real treat awaited us at the hotel that evening. Unknown to us, Gurmay had organised a meal featuring local cuisine - including millet beer. Not quite sure if beer is the right word; to me it tasted more like sake. It's made from fermented millet - Gurmay told us the process and it all sounded like far too much work, involving kneading and proving mushed-up seeds - which is put in the bottom of a special hollow bamboo pot. You pour boiling water on this and leave it to work for five minutes or so. You then drink it through a special bamboo straw. This has a slit in the end so you don't end up with a mouthful of a mushed-up millet. It tasted quite potent and was very warming. You keep topping it up with boiling water, and eventually it doesn't taste alcoholic any more - that's when you're done.

I drank quite a lot but didn't feel drunk - though my face did go very red! Gurmay said the typical scene is a couple of farmers who've worked hard all day in the fields settling down around the fire with a couple of pots and sipping away on it until it's time for bed.

The menu highlight was fiddlehead ferns, which taste a bit like asparagus. There was also a spinach curry and some glass noodles - it was lovely.

Day 5: Darjeeling to Gangtok, Sikkim

I had no preconceptions about Sikkim before this trip, and being focused on Bhutan I hadn't read anything about it. So as our journey unfolded I was treated to a wonderful surprise. The tour was called "The Last Shangri-La", referring to Bhutan; Sikkim is equally paradisal in my view. I would love to revisit at more leisure - we spent just one night there.

The drive there took us steeply up past tea plantations that gave me renewed respect for tea-pickers.





The trees are Japanese cypress, also planted by the British. We passed one lovely clearing where lots of prayer flags had been erected. They are set up in particularly windy spots.



The road then plunged down to a river valley, the natural border between Darjeeling and Sikkim, where we were able to pick up speed because the road was better. It was maintained by the Border Roads Organisation (BRO) and funded by the army, our driver said. We certainly saw a lot of army traffic and big, smart-looking barracks (in Sikkim it was the Black Cat Division, whose motto is "Guts, Gumption, Glory").

The BRO has a wonderful way with signage. Not for them the dull "please drive safely". Some of my favourites: "Drive like hell and you will be there", "Driving faster can cause disaster", "Smile, it is contagious", "Always expect unexpected", "Be soft on my curves" and the sublime "The journey of life is long and the path unknown".

I also liked this bit of randomly misquoted poetry:



At one point we saw lorries carrying loads of men standing up coming down the hill to join the main road. Our driver said it was a funeral; and sure enough, further along the river bank dozens of cars and lorries were pulling up, and neatly dressed people getting out and walking out across the shingle. Down at the water's edge a group of men were building a pyre, stacking logs ready for the cremation. Eventually, after we passed the border post (Sikkim is part of India but has its own immigration rules) the road started a zigzagging climb again, mostly in good condition with some patches of monsoon washout. The crop was now rice rather than tea, lush paddies in terraces climbing the hills.



Gangtok, the capital of Sikkim, was another revelation. What a nice place! It was prosperous, relaxed, amiable. After lunch at the hotel we headed into town.







We were making for the market (if only Queensferry had such a good one):







The market building had a big roof terrace, where the dogs were all hanging out and the kids were playing.


Wonderful views from up there, and fresh snacks on offer:




Back at the hotel I wrote many, many postcards and we had a nice dinner - very old-fashioned, with solemn waiter service. Some people had problems with hot water in their rooms, but mine was fine and the shower was ferociously strong. Just the ticket after a hard day's travel.

Day 4: Darjeeling

An enormously long and action-packed day started insanely early: 3am I think. I was awake at 2am anyway, thanks to jetlag. After a quick cup of tea we piled into the jeeps and drove up to Tiger Hill to watch the sun rise. It's a popular spot - our cars were part of a stream of vehicles bumping up the road to the pavilion and viewing terrace. It had rained in the night and we'd worried that we might not have good views, but the clouds cleared and it was magic.

We could see Kanchenjunga quite clearly:



Most of the visitors were Indians, who are there to greet the sun - they weren't so interested in looking at the mountains.



And it was pretty amazing.



And speaking of mountains, here are a few more:


From left to right the peaks are: Lhotse, Everest and Makalu. With Kanchenjunga that's four of the world's five highest peaks visible from Tiger Hill.

We were thrilled - this is me with Lynda and Susan.


There were good views of Darjeeling from up there too:


After coming down the hill in another convoy of dozens of cars, we headed for Ghoom and our first Buddhist monastery, Yiga Cholang, a Tibetan Yellow Hat sect monastery.







The temple was dim and dusty and a bit shabby, but very atmospheric, with walls of scriptures (the picture above of the shelves; the texts are long sheets stacked between boards and wrapped in brocade) and a very beautiful Buddha. Gurmay gave a very interesting explanation of the imagery and rituals, and also the different sects in Tibet.



And then we had breakfast! Amazing how much you can pack in to the day when you get up early. Lovely buffet - breakfast was pretty much my favourite meal at most of the hotels! There was always something unexpected and delish. At the Mayfair there was a scrummy spicy egg dish.

The next excitement was a ride on the "Toy Train", the Himalayan Mountain Railway. This was a great thrill. We started at Darjeeling and rode the train up to Ghoom. It was wonderful seeing the little steam engine being stoked up ready for the trip, the boiler filled. The smell and sounds took me right back to my school days, getting the train to town every day.







And then we were off!


The narrow-gauge line goes along the street, so you go chuffing right past the shop fronts, the engine whistling constantly as it goes. It was so much fun! It's really only a tourist attraction these days, because it actually is quite slow. On the steep bits the engine was clearly struggling. There was a lovely spiral too, to get up a reeeeally steep bit.







At Ghoom we had a look round the railway museum, mildly interesting, then piled back into the cars for the next destination: the zoo. As zoos go it was superior - the enclosures were large and comfortable looking and there's a strong emphasis on conservation. The big stars were red pandas, cute bushy ginger critters, and sleek snow leopards and clouded leopards. We also saw a very bored-looking Himalayan brown bear, quite a character.

I took a lot of photos but none of them came out particularly well. It was overcast, I was tired... I got a lot of shots of very sharply focused fencing with vaguely animal-shaped blurs in the background.





Next to the zoo was the mountaineering institute, with an interesting exhibition about the Everest conquest - interesting because it focused on Sherpa Tensing, a local hero.

We were all properly knackered by now, and it was only lunchtime. So after lunch at the hotel and a bit of a rest (though I had less rest than the others; I managed to somehow trigger the combination lock on my suitcase but didn't know the number to unlock it and ended up having to force it open with my walking pole!), we set out on a little shopping expedition.

Some pics of the hotel:




The first stop was a tea shop, where we were supposed to have a tasting. But the shop was absolutely tiny and we were all jammed in. The temperature rose and the tea talk droned on... finally I begged to be allowed to buy some and went outside for a breather. I got some "Moon Drops" - silver tips apparently picked first thing in the morning when the dew is still on the bushes - and white tea, which is very rare and special and good for your health.

Afterwards the plan was to go back through the town shopping for postcards etc to the hotel, and then go out for dinner to a Tibetan restaurant. I headed off with Denis and Lynda, but they set such a cracking pace I soon fell behind. Merle and Des had mentioned a shop further up the hill where they were going to buy some shawls, so I looked for the place and found it, and waited there for them to catch me up. The shop was run by a Kashmiri family, very affable chaps with big moustaches. The walls were lined with shelves stacked with thousands of shawls in every imaginable colour and style. The salesmen sat on a slightly raised platform along one side and the customers on low chairs along the other.

Their sales technique was to pull down shawls at random, pull them out of their cellophane packet and spread them on the platform in front of you, dazing you with the variety. They'd spread out a few clearly inferior shawls, then suddenly whip out a dazzling one, an amazing piece of embroidery. The fun really started when Merle and Des arrived. Merle had seen a shawl she liked the day before; trouble was, the chaps had so many shawls they really couldn't remember them all, so they just kept pulling out more and more. "Is this it?" "No, no, it was darker." "How about this?" And so on. Finally they flung down one that was breath-taking. How much? The father pulled out his calculator. $12,000. "WHAT?!?" It was the most beautiful, sensational piece, embroidered all over with delicate flowers in exquisite detail, as perfect on the reverse as the front. A work of art, an heirloom. But crazily out of reach for mere tourists.

The show went on, and finally Merle and Des chose shawls. I bought two, one each for Pinky and Faye - silk, in very subtle colours in a paisley weave. Hope you like them, girls! I didn't get myself one though: I never wear that sort of thing, I never manage the kind of elegance you need. I loved looking at them though.

Gurmay arrived at the shop too in the end - the shawl seller was also the best money-changer in town and Gurmay needed to change some of our tip money (we each contributed £20 to a fund to cover all hotel tips and temple donations and so on - a real bargain!). The whole business of looking at shawls and drinking tea and paying for shawls and talking about shawls took so long it was too late to go back to the hotel. So Gurmay went back alone to fetch the others, and Des, Merle and I went to the restaurant to wait for everyone.

It turned out to be a really sweet little greasy-spoon cafe, with a few gingham-clad tables and a little kitchen visible through the hatch. While we waited I had a delicious lemon and honey tea, and once the others got there we tucked in to lovely plates of momos - Tibetan dumplings - and a really nice soup. The food was delicious and really tasted like home cooking.

While we were eating the rain started, complete with thunder and lightning. The worst of it was over by the time we left the restaurant, and we walked back to the hotel under our umbrellas in a refreshing downpour.

I slept really well that night!! Denis was keen to drag everyone off to the bar for a drink, but I slid out of that... I was too tired.

Day 3: Kolkata - Bagdogra - Darjeeling

After a brilliant breakfast - a vast buffet of all kinds of delicious grub, including baked yoghurt, fresh fruit and curries - we were back in the bus and back to the airport, this time for a quick flight to Bagdogra. There we met our guide, Gurmay, and the three drivers, Basanth, Sagar and Prasanta. Yes, three - we were travelling in three jeeps (well they weren't jeeps, strictly speaking, more "jeep-like"). Most of us were thrilled: cool! But some were less thrilled.

Fourteen people, three cars: that's five people in two of those cars. That means that two people have to sit in the middle. One of the couples, Mike and Judy, balked at this. They complained to Gurmay, demanded that the company pay for an extra vehicle so that everyone could ride in comfort. This of course was not possible: imagine the extra cost of a car plus a driver, plus the driver's food and accommodation. The answer was no. Possibly Gurmay shouldn't have told the rest of us, because it set up a bit of animosity that rippled on throughout the trip.

Anyway, on the first day we were blissfully unaware, and I happily sat in the middle of the back seat, not realising it was terribly uncomfortable (it wasn't). Gurmay, Merle and Susan were in the car too, and it was great, we had a fun trip. The road took us winding up through hairpin bens from the heat of the plains into the cool forested hills.





Halfway there we stopped for tea: our first sip of real Darjeeling.



Then up and up, through little towns lined with shops crammed with goods, people sitting out on verandahs, dogs running around. There were two types of dog: white fluffy pet dogs, and a bigger, sturdy-looking dogs, mostly gingery brown that seemed to be freelance. They jaunted around, seemingly healthy and confident, grubbing in middens for food or sleeping, sometimes on a mat, often in a pile of dogs.

Most of the people in and around Darjeeling are Nepali or Tibetan in origin. The population of Lepcha, the original inhabitants of Darjeeling and Sikkim, was small when the Brits arrived and planted tea, so they imported labour for the plantations. Everyone seems very relaxed and amiable.

Here's a quick bit of film I took driving through Margaret's Hope. The voice right at the end is that of Merle, an artist from New York and a great travel companion.






Darjeeling itself was wonderful, an eccentric guddle of buildings clinging to the slopes, with narrow streets packed with shops, a bigger, madder, more crowded version of the villages we'd driven through.

The hotel, the Mayfair, was grand, once the summer home of a maharaja and very comfortable. After checking in and having a late lunch, we headed out for a quick wander around the main shopping area. I'd forgotten to bring a fan, so stopped at a stall and bought one, helped by Denis, who enjoys bargaining. At one point a little child slipped his hand into mine. When I looked down, he was begging. A man coming up behind told him off, but he carried on tugging at my hand and pleading. The man gave him a biff in the head, not hard, and sent him packing. "He's from the plains, he's not from round here," he told me. That was the only time I came across begging in the hills - you can wander around freely and no-one bothers you. Some of the shop-keepers cry their wares, but nowhere nearly as aggressively as in say, Marakech. So walking down a shopping street is really enjoyable and relaxing.

After our excursion we had dinner and retired to bed. I did, anyway - I was tired out! And the room was very comfortable.

Day 2: Kolkata

We arrived at dawn and stepped off the plane into an oven ... bliss! I could feel the warmth reach my bones. I got to meet the rest of the party: Desiree, Merle, Susan, Mike, Judy, Christine, Duncan, Lynda and Denis. And we were whisked off to the hotel. I say whisked; in fact it was quite a long bus trip, past fields and farms at first, then developments of apartment blocks, commercial buildings and shopping centres springing up, then suburbs and finally the thronging, heaving city proper. People! People people people. Kolkata has a population of 14 million, and another 5 million commute in each day. The poorest live right on the street, sleeping, washing and eating in the open.

The hotel, by contrast, was
a chilly, gleaming marble palace, with uniformed flunkies hovering at every turn. A bus tour of the city had been organised for the afternoon so I rested until then.

When we set out on the tour it was overcast, and somehow lulled by the chill of the hotel I didn't take a hat or sunscreen with me. Later on I needed both! I had taken my umbrella, however, so used that for shade. Our guide was Shanti, your go-to man for facts, figures and history.



We were hauled around various monuments and churches and museums, but for me the best bit was driving down all the fascinating streets, seeing daily life.







Among the places we visited was Mother Teresa's mission, the Sisters of Charity. As we drove up to the street it's in, our way was partly blocked by a pray-in: dozens of Muslim men had unrolled their prayer mats in the street and a scowling imam was conducting Friday prayers. The atmosphere was simmering with hostility on all sides. Shanti was beside himself with outraged indignation: "Look at this! On your left! These men are blocking the road! What right do they have! As a Calcuttan I feel ashamed of this!"



The mission was very simple and we were greeted by a sweet Indonesian nun. We visited Mother Teresa's tomb, a plain marble plinth, and left after peering up some roped-off steps at what was her room. "God be with you," said the nun as we went.

Near the end of the tour we stopped by the river to look at some people launching idols. By this stage I was knackered, not having slept or eaten all day, so I stayed in the bus. It was apparently interesting but boisterous - someone was splashed and got upset.

Back at the hotel I was tempted to go to bed but pushed myself to stay up. A few of us ate in the hotel restaurant - delicious food; I had fish curry, yum. And so to bed... a very comfortable bed.

India/Bhutan tour - Day 1: to Kolkata

I should really start this travelogue with the few days leading up to my departure...

The flight left on Thursday but I had that whole week off, so I thought I'd have a very leisurely time packing and getting ready. No such luck. At the weekend Bertie went suddenly and quite dramatically lame: I came home from shopping and he didn't greet me at the door. He was upstairs standing on three legs looking very sorry for himself. I dosed him with some doggie painkiller I had to hand and he seemed not too bad the next day. But then on Sunday he went downhill again - the leg swelled alarmingly and he couldn't put any weight on it.



So on Monday I whisked him off to the vet, who took him in for an X-ray. Nothing was broken, happily, so it was a matter of antibiotics, painkillers and bed rest. I was pleased I was leaving him with a good dogminder rather than kennels or some poor benighted friend. Liz was unfazed by the news - she had an elderly lab staying who was also on "light duties", so at least he would have company for his recuperation.

Just when all this was sorted, and I was about to take Bertie to the dogminder, Faye texted her news: she was in hospital in Cornwall with a very painful gallstone! I spent a day phoning and texting and emailing to see how she was and let the rest of the family know. Finally I threw some clothes and stuff in a suitcase and was off to the airport to catch the plan to London.

And at Heathrow while waiting for my flight to Kolkata I got a text from Pinky saying SHE'd been in hospital too! Good grief.

The flight was overnight and very comfortable - I was lucky enough to have all three seats to myself and so could stretch out. The only glitch was that I'd picked the very last seat on the plane to be served dinner, so by the time they got to me they only had the vegetarian option left - moussaka! I said I wouldn't mind so much if it was something Indian ... and the steward whisked it away and came back with a delicious veg curry. Lovely.

:: googled!

I saw the Google car today but didn't get a photo of it. By the time I'd grappled my camera out and switched it to auto (it was set for night shots) and dragged Bertie away from an interesting bit of wall, it was gone. So when the UK's Google Street View eventually goes online there'll be a nice shot of me fiddlng with the camera. Sigh.