The Descent
Left Darjeeling yesterday afternoon. Had a horrendous pot of coffee on the deck of the Windamere and a gawk at their proudly arrayed colonial-era invites. The Agha Khan's bar chits, seating plans and b&w photos of ladies smoking cigars.
Road down to the plains as socked in as I've ever seen. Cows appear and fade away. A monk emerges from a cloud. As we descend into Ghoom, the Toy Train's steam mixes with the mist and for a few seconds we're entirely engulfed.
It's chilly - the ladies are wrapped and huddle around open fires, the kids are bundles. Nothing is visible beyond the brush and cement markers edging the 1-1/2 lane road, and the distance markers: Kurseong 27, Siliguri 62.
Darjeeling, I see now, is appealing for what it doesn't encourage. It's chilly so you want to be inside. There's no central heating so you'll want a fire. And if the insides are chilled...It's a napping, fireside, sipping tea evolving into hot toddies sort of town. With an excellent bookstore and the occasional great view.
Down through the inane signs
HURRY BURRY SPOILES THE CURRY
LOOKING FOR SURVIVAL, DO NOT BELIEVE IN FAST ARRIVAL
GENTLEMEN PLAY, NOT FLY
And then the welcomes from the tea estates: Margaret's Hope down through TAZO.
The NJP Station is less intimidating than those of larger Indian cities. The beggars are smaller, less aggressive and familiar from arrival, the waiting room is open to the air, the army's present (there's a big base nearby) so there's a sense of security with the tall, natty MPs striding about. The passengers - waiting, arriving, departing - seem more families than sketchy individuals. More bedrolls than baskets of live chickens and jute sacks.
One sobering note, left of snack counter, a big sign:
DO NOT CONSUME ANY EATABLES OFFERED BY STRANGERS
THE TEA/COFFEE BOUGHT FROM VENDORS MAY EVEN BE DRUGGED
It's almost a relief to be back on the plains, or is it the return to heat? Or maybe just too long at high altitudes. Everything seems more relaxed and, in an India manner, straightforward. Which is odd, as there's nothing remotely A to B in India. Maybe it was the Princess Hope pressures (how to behave with royalty is new), bafflement at the allegiances and tensions within the Sikkimese population, confusion with which of the monasteries was supporting which reincarnation, making sure to circle clockwise, and trying hard to make the monks smile.
And I was cold most of the time. Almost never entirely naked until the warmth of my Windamere room.
Back up shortly, Nepal next.
Love to all,
C
Road down to the plains as socked in as I've ever seen. Cows appear and fade away. A monk emerges from a cloud. As we descend into Ghoom, the Toy Train's steam mixes with the mist and for a few seconds we're entirely engulfed.
It's chilly - the ladies are wrapped and huddle around open fires, the kids are bundles. Nothing is visible beyond the brush and cement markers edging the 1-1/2 lane road, and the distance markers: Kurseong 27, Siliguri 62.
Darjeeling, I see now, is appealing for what it doesn't encourage. It's chilly so you want to be inside. There's no central heating so you'll want a fire. And if the insides are chilled...It's a napping, fireside, sipping tea evolving into hot toddies sort of town. With an excellent bookstore and the occasional great view.
Down through the inane signs
HURRY BURRY SPOILES THE CURRY
LOOKING FOR SURVIVAL, DO NOT BELIEVE IN FAST ARRIVAL
GENTLEMEN PLAY, NOT FLY
And then the welcomes from the tea estates: Margaret's Hope down through TAZO.
The NJP Station is less intimidating than those of larger Indian cities. The beggars are smaller, less aggressive and familiar from arrival, the waiting room is open to the air, the army's present (there's a big base nearby) so there's a sense of security with the tall, natty MPs striding about. The passengers - waiting, arriving, departing - seem more families than sketchy individuals. More bedrolls than baskets of live chickens and jute sacks.
One sobering note, left of snack counter, a big sign:
DO NOT CONSUME ANY EATABLES OFFERED BY STRANGERS
THE TEA/COFFEE BOUGHT FROM VENDORS MAY EVEN BE DRUGGED
It's almost a relief to be back on the plains, or is it the return to heat? Or maybe just too long at high altitudes. Everything seems more relaxed and, in an India manner, straightforward. Which is odd, as there's nothing remotely A to B in India. Maybe it was the Princess Hope pressures (how to behave with royalty is new), bafflement at the allegiances and tensions within the Sikkimese population, confusion with which of the monasteries was supporting which reincarnation, making sure to circle clockwise, and trying hard to make the monks smile.
And I was cold most of the time. Almost never entirely naked until the warmth of my Windamere room.
Back up shortly, Nepal next.
Love to all,
C
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