After another 12 hour over night train (back in sleeper class this time), and a squished four hour 'shared jeep' ride with nine other people, we get to Darjeeling. The entire place is balanced on the side of a ridge 2200m up in the Himalayas. The streets winds back and forth on each other getting higher and higher and it is very misty. All the roads are very very steep and whilst looking for a room for the night I make slow progress up the paths and steps, often being over taken by little old men carrying loads of bricks/water/planks of wood and gas tanks on their backs and supported by a strap around their forehead. We reach a viewing point which looks out into a big chasm of mist and apparently the Himalayas behind it. Despite the mist I can tell there is a big drop of nothing-ness below. I don't take any pictures because there is nothing to see and because i'm so tired that, if I take my rucksack off to get my camera, I won't be able to get it on again.
Our hotel room feels damp, but the owenr assures us that it is just cold. Either way Alex and I both wake up the next morning with horrible colds, which develop over the next couple of days into fevers and I get a cough. We assume that this is something to do with the sudden climate and altitude change. The next day, despite our ailments (and ironically our hostel is called the 'Aliment'), we power on and explore the area by foot as there don't seem to be any rickshaws - it is probably too steep for them.
A 8km round walk takes us to the Himalayan Mountaineering Institut (HMI - which is a combined ticket with the Darjeeling zoo) and the 'Happy Valley Tea Plantation'. At the HMI, as well as learning about all the sucessful and unsuccessful attempts to climb Everest, we are persuaded to get dressed up in traditional Tibetan dress. Although there are lots of Indian and Nepalese tourists trying the clothes on, everyone seems to find white people wearing them to be particularly funny - there is a crowd of people watching and pointing from the balcony and lots of people want their pictures with us. As usual they all point and whisper, until one brave person comes and asks 'one photo please?', and this encourages everyone else to crowd around for a photo too. They all ask 'what is your good country?' and 'your good name?'. I don't mind all this too much, but upwards of around ten people and I get a bit tired of it.
The zoo has deer, various birds, red pandas, wolves and even leopards and a tiger - 'all in their natural environment'. I don't quite agree, although the enclosures could be worse. Although it is fascinating to see a leopard up close, I don't stay for long or take any pictures - there is not much joy or challenge in taking pictures of a caged animal.
The Happy Valley Tea Plantation grows Darjeeling tea for Harrods. We are given a tour of the factory and told by the tea shop lady that, of the 84 tea plantations in Darjeeling, Happy Valley is the best - "Why you ask? - (we hadn't asked) - Because it is happy!". Although not a huge tea drinker I try an obligatory cup of Darjeeling tea. It tastes like tea. We also meet a small boy on the estate, who asks all about our families, tells us about his and takes delight in 'brushing' our hair. He is seven and has exceptional English.
It is getting dark and beginning to rain by the time struggle back to our hotel up steep winding roads and long flights of steps. I put on all my clothes, crawl into my sleeping bag liner, duvet and blanket and, still shivering with the beginning of a fever, fall asleep without dinner at 7pm.
The next day we get a taxi to the next town, called 'Ghoom', and visit a Gompa (monastery). There is a group of young novice monks playing marbles in the yard and we sit and watch. They don't seem to mind us being there, but they don't pay much attention to us either. I was hoping to catch the toy train back to Darjeeling, but when I ask the station manager about tickets for the steam train I get the usual and infuriating answer of 'its not possible madam'. He says that the trains are all desiel, despite my instance that we passed the steam train on the way. I do manage to get some pictures of the disused engine in the museum.
We reluctantly get a taxi back to Darjeeling and, before heading back to our hostel, stop at 'Gleanry's' tea shop for cakes and hot chocolate. Because it is Easter weekend there are lots of families having tea and hot crossed buns - the children (in their school uniforms) being told to 'sit up straight' and 'no, three cakes is quite enough'. There are lots of home made Easter eggs and this, combined with the cool weather, makes Darjeeling feel a bit like spring at home.
Our hotel room feels damp, but the owenr assures us that it is just cold. Either way Alex and I both wake up the next morning with horrible colds, which develop over the next couple of days into fevers and I get a cough. We assume that this is something to do with the sudden climate and altitude change. The next day, despite our ailments (and ironically our hostel is called the 'Aliment'), we power on and explore the area by foot as there don't seem to be any rickshaws - it is probably too steep for them.
A 8km round walk takes us to the Himalayan Mountaineering Institut (HMI - which is a combined ticket with the Darjeeling zoo) and the 'Happy Valley Tea Plantation'. At the HMI, as well as learning about all the sucessful and unsuccessful attempts to climb Everest, we are persuaded to get dressed up in traditional Tibetan dress. Although there are lots of Indian and Nepalese tourists trying the clothes on, everyone seems to find white people wearing them to be particularly funny - there is a crowd of people watching and pointing from the balcony and lots of people want their pictures with us. As usual they all point and whisper, until one brave person comes and asks 'one photo please?', and this encourages everyone else to crowd around for a photo too. They all ask 'what is your good country?' and 'your good name?'. I don't mind all this too much, but upwards of around ten people and I get a bit tired of it.
The Happy Valley Tea Plantation grows Darjeeling tea for Harrods. We are given a tour of the factory and told by the tea shop lady that, of the 84 tea plantations in Darjeeling, Happy Valley is the best - "Why you ask? - (we hadn't asked) - Because it is happy!". Although not a huge tea drinker I try an obligatory cup of Darjeeling tea. It tastes like tea. We also meet a small boy on the estate, who asks all about our families, tells us about his and takes delight in 'brushing' our hair. He is seven and has exceptional English.
It is getting dark and beginning to rain by the time struggle back to our hotel up steep winding roads and long flights of steps. I put on all my clothes, crawl into my sleeping bag liner, duvet and blanket and, still shivering with the beginning of a fever, fall asleep without dinner at 7pm.
The next day we get a taxi to the next town, called 'Ghoom', and visit a Gompa (monastery). There is a group of young novice monks playing marbles in the yard and we sit and watch. They don't seem to mind us being there, but they don't pay much attention to us either. I was hoping to catch the toy train back to Darjeeling, but when I ask the station manager about tickets for the steam train I get the usual and infuriating answer of 'its not possible madam'. He says that the trains are all desiel, despite my instance that we passed the steam train on the way. I do manage to get some pictures of the disused engine in the museum.
We reluctantly get a taxi back to Darjeeling and, before heading back to our hostel, stop at 'Gleanry's' tea shop for cakes and hot chocolate. Because it is Easter weekend there are lots of families having tea and hot crossed buns - the children (in their school uniforms) being told to 'sit up straight' and 'no, three cakes is quite enough'. There are lots of home made Easter eggs and this, combined with the cool weather, makes Darjeeling feel a bit like spring at home.
No comments:
Post a Comment