Right, I've been home a week now and it's time I tried to summarise my trip, so here goes. South America is the most naturally beautiful place on earth. Geysers, fjords, lagoons, deserts, glaciers, mountains, waterfalls, beaches, moonscapes... It would keep any geographer happy for a lifetime. South East Asia is above all, fun. From partying all night in Saigon to drinking beer on the beach in Nha Trang and shopping in the night markets of Laos, there's nowhere better to kick back and put a smile on your face.
India is the biggest challenge of all, but also the biggest reward. As Lonely Planet so rightly put it, 'This extraordinary country has the ability to inspire, frustrate, thrill and confound all at once.' And it has changed my perspective on life. Without my permission. I didn't go on this trip to 'find myself,' I just wanted to be awed by the beauty of Iguazu falls, Angkor Wat and the Taj Mahal. To see the world and all it has to offer. To break out of my little bubble. But it did. And most of it comes down to India. So here's just a little bit of what I learnt...
Once you've seen the grace and serenity of Indian women you will forever know that it is possible to stay peaceful and positive whatever is going on around you. The external situation is irrelevant. Many families do not have any running water to wash their clothes or themselves in. They sleep on the road side, or in one room in a slum with twelve other family members. They have never known privacy, or silence. But they glide through insanely chaotic streets littered with potholes, shit, litter, dirt, noise, pollution with an elegance and beauty that is nothing short of remarkable. They are a lesson to us all in resilience and mastering your own state of mind.
Also, a simpler life with less money can actually be a happier and more rewarding one. You meet so many travellers who don't have much financially but are out there living life the way they want to, doing something that matters and makes them feel good, whether that's working for a charity or rescuing turtles on a beach in the Galapagos. You realise a different way of life is possible. You don't have to have a complicated, stressful 9-5 office job (if you don't want to) just because that is all you have ever known and believed to be acceptable. There are many people in India who have very very simple jobs and very little, but they are happy. And it makes them appreciate the small things. This came to be true of us too. Buying a cup of chai on the railway platform for 5 rupees was something we were grateful for, rather than just taking it for granted.
As an atheist (I still am) it would have surprised me so much to hear that I'm saying this, but we could learn an awful lot from Indian spirituality. I sometimes wonder if the pervading spiritual atmosphere is there as a coping mechanism because life is so chaotic and intense, but techniques like yoga, meditation, ritual and holy worship hold a hugely important place in daily life, and unlike here, India's atmosphere is very supportive of such practices. Whether you believe in god or not, whatever religion you are, the themes that run through yogic and meditative practice in India are inspiring. I think the most important ideas are a oneness with the world and everyone in it, so you treat everyone as you wish yourself to be treated, and it eases feelings of ego, jealousy, anger towards other people. At the very least it certainly makes you less judgemental of others. It stops you comparing yourself to anyone else, because you realise that everyone is the same inside. It's also about having a direct experience with yourself, and learning what really makes you happy, rather than defining who you are through other people's opinions or how much money you have, or how thin you are, or what shoes you're wearing. Finally, on a simpler level, as introduced to me by a teacher in Rishikesh, meditation is just wonderful for taking some time out to give your mind a BREAK, to stop it working overtime and be still and silent for fifteen minutes every day. The results can be astonishing.
And finally, possibly the most important thing is perspective. To actually think about what is important. Does this really matter? When you've seen people struggling day in day out to survive, the answer to that question is more often than not, no. And it's a great lesson, because once you've learnt it, not much can stress you out. When I stood in a cow pat in my flip flops in Varanasi I thought, oh well. When I got a fly in my drink, I fished it out and carried on drinking. When I got food poisoning for the third time it was no big deal.
And so, I will say goodbye with an Indian head waggle and some quotes I came across and loved while I was away...
'Live dangerously if you want to develop your personality.' Nietzsche
'Somewhere in the five or more millenia of its history the culture had decided to dispense with the casual, nonchalant glance. By the time I came to Bombay, the eye contact ranged from an ogling gaze to a gawping, goggle eyed stare.' Shantaram
'Enlightenment is freedom from delusion, selfishness, attachment, insensitivity, pride, arrogance, hostility, perturbation, envy and greed.' Meditation teacher
'Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined.' Henry David Thoreau
'In all its chaotic glory India is an eternal, and if you tune into its unique rhythm, curiously melodic work in progress.' Lonely Planet
'If the roots are taken care of the flowers will be taken care of automatically.'
'Fearlessness is the total presence of fear, with the courage to face it.'
'Surrender to all of life. Without accepting the mud there is no possibility of growing the lotus.' Osho
'It's the challenge of getting up close and personal with one of the planet's most confronting and intriguing countries, and quite possibly unravelling oneself along the way.' Lonely Planet
Thursday 15 April 2010
Mumbai II, India...
And so, after six months on the road, it was time to start the long journey home. We took the Konkankanya express from Goa and arrived back in Mumbai at 6am, and with the help of a friendly, commission-seeking Indian guy, found a bed in the (by Mumbai standards) pristine Sea Shore hotel in Colaba, near the Taj Palace Hotel and Gateway of India.
I hadn't been looking forward to going back to the city, but after a sleep we headed out into the 38 degree heat and I instantly fell back in love with Bombay. I still can't put my finger on what it is about this city, but it has worked magic on me. This time around it felt familiar, and even friendlier and I'm sure it's all about mindset but we just seemed to blend more. Probably because we were more relaxed, so everyone around us was more relaxed. We had an amazing lunch in the air conditioned and very fancy oasis of Basilico on Arthur Bunder Road, before picking up a couple of hookah pipes and finally heading to Fabindia for some last minute shopping. We spent the night cramming 6 months worth of shopping into our bulging backpacks, and mentally preparing to come home.
I think both of us felt ready. While we were away we only met 3 people who were travelling for a full year, the average time seemed to be two or three months, and if it was longer they had generally stayed put in one place and worked for a while. Most people thought six months of constantly being on the road was a long trip, and looking back I think they're right. The first two months were unbridled excitement, months three and four were harder because the homesickness had kicked in a little, and the last two months were incredible because India was so exciting everyday, and also probably because we knew we would be home soon, so we had to enjoy every last minute. We covered so much ground on this trip that I doubt I will feel the need to go away for such a long time again, maybe a month here and a month there. You can also always have too much of a good thing. Had we done a year I think I would have got to the point where if I'd seen the hanging gardens of Babylon I would've said, 'Hmm, yeah, quite nice.'
So, soon it was time for the cab to pick us up at 8am the next morning to take us to the airport, and we drove through the city streets saying a final goodbye to Bombay and watching all of India go by. The British colonial architecture and the crumbling, high rise blocks. The endless sprawl of Dharavi, the world's biggest slum (where Slumdog Millionaire was filmed), and the women who live there walking their immaculately dressed children to school. The sunny old tree lined streets of Colaba which feel like they could be in London. The stench of the docks and the markets and the beauty of Marine drive and Chowpatty beach. The bright lights of Bollywood and the cocktail bars and coffee shops. The Hindu offerings and the piles of litter. The ragpickers and holy sadhus. The lepers and the stray dogs. The businessmen and the glamorous young Indian girls in their salwar kameez and designer sunglasses. It's so strange to think that it's all still going on even when you're not there. It feels like it was another planet. And I miss it everyday.
I hadn't been looking forward to going back to the city, but after a sleep we headed out into the 38 degree heat and I instantly fell back in love with Bombay. I still can't put my finger on what it is about this city, but it has worked magic on me. This time around it felt familiar, and even friendlier and I'm sure it's all about mindset but we just seemed to blend more. Probably because we were more relaxed, so everyone around us was more relaxed. We had an amazing lunch in the air conditioned and very fancy oasis of Basilico on Arthur Bunder Road, before picking up a couple of hookah pipes and finally heading to Fabindia for some last minute shopping. We spent the night cramming 6 months worth of shopping into our bulging backpacks, and mentally preparing to come home.
I think both of us felt ready. While we were away we only met 3 people who were travelling for a full year, the average time seemed to be two or three months, and if it was longer they had generally stayed put in one place and worked for a while. Most people thought six months of constantly being on the road was a long trip, and looking back I think they're right. The first two months were unbridled excitement, months three and four were harder because the homesickness had kicked in a little, and the last two months were incredible because India was so exciting everyday, and also probably because we knew we would be home soon, so we had to enjoy every last minute. We covered so much ground on this trip that I doubt I will feel the need to go away for such a long time again, maybe a month here and a month there. You can also always have too much of a good thing. Had we done a year I think I would have got to the point where if I'd seen the hanging gardens of Babylon I would've said, 'Hmm, yeah, quite nice.'
So, soon it was time for the cab to pick us up at 8am the next morning to take us to the airport, and we drove through the city streets saying a final goodbye to Bombay and watching all of India go by. The British colonial architecture and the crumbling, high rise blocks. The endless sprawl of Dharavi, the world's biggest slum (where Slumdog Millionaire was filmed), and the women who live there walking their immaculately dressed children to school. The sunny old tree lined streets of Colaba which feel like they could be in London. The stench of the docks and the markets and the beauty of Marine drive and Chowpatty beach. The bright lights of Bollywood and the cocktail bars and coffee shops. The Hindu offerings and the piles of litter. The ragpickers and holy sadhus. The lepers and the stray dogs. The businessmen and the glamorous young Indian girls in their salwar kameez and designer sunglasses. It's so strange to think that it's all still going on even when you're not there. It feels like it was another planet. And I miss it everyday.
Kerala & Goa, India...
Talk about feeling like you're in a different country. The difference between Kerala and Goa in the South of India, and the big cities of the North, is like the difference between night and day. Not only does the pace of life slow down to something that is mildly familiar, but the infrastructure (especially in Kerala) is far more successful. It's cleaner, quieter, land and income are more equally distributed, and the state has health and education record is excellent in comparison to the rest of India. I call the south 'India lite.'
We spent the day on a canoe, and a houseboat lazily travelling down 900km of Keralan 'backwaters,' or inland rivers which have been used by locals since long before there were roads, and which they still ply today. Lazily floating along the shady, palm fringed inlets in a canoe, watching kids playing in the waters and women knee deep in the water scrubbing their clothes against the rocks, or making coir (rope from the fibre inside coconuts) was one of the most relaxing things I'd done in six months. We also took a houseboat out into the Arabian sea where we sailed over to the islands of Appeley and Kollam, and docked there to see traditional 'toddy tappers' extracting palm feni from flowers high up in coconut trees. It tasted fantastic, and apparently the longer you leave the liquid the more alcoholic it gets, so after 6 hours it is 3% and after 6 weeks it's 40%.
Next, we took an overnight train ride to Goa. We were ready to just kick back and relax, and had heard that Palolem was a pretty, chilled out beach so after an early cup of chai we hopped off the train in darkness at the little station of Canacona (at 5am, ouch). Instead of the usual insane crush of rickshaw drivers vying for our business there was one guy who said he knew some beach huts on stilts that had room, so we hopped in with another Indian guy and shared the 3km drive to Palolem beach.
It was still dark when we arrived, and not really knowing what our surroundings were (we just knew we could feel sand beneath our feet and hear the sea) we checked out our little wooden coco hut, which cost 350 rupees a nigh (£2.50 each). It had everything we needed. A bed, mosquito net, power point, bathroom and a little balcony out front. Then we took cold water showers and fell into exhausted sleep after the long journey, lulled by the sound sea.
When we woke up we strolled out of the hut and onto the perfect, palm tree shaded sandy crescent of Palolem beach which was our home for the next ten days. There's not much to say about those ten days other than that we spent most of our time sunbathing and playing beach sports (I literally AM the world champion at beach bat and ball) and shooting the breeze in the evenings, watching movies on the outdoor beach cinema, eating tandoori food and enjoying a glass (or two) of feni while gazing out to sea. Oh and watching the stars (we even saw shooting stars) from our blanket on the beach at night. They were so clear and made me feel so small and insignificant.
Sounds idyllic, and it was. Until two days before we were due to leave and I got my third and final bout of food poisoning in six months, which put me out of action for about a day and a half. Fortunately we'd picked up some antibiotics in Bangkok which helped me along. Horrible, but I was so used to getting sick by that point (and so shocked that it hadn't yet happened in India) that my first thought was a resigned 'Ok, here we go again. Just deal with it.' It's just one of the cons that you have to put up with if you want to travel.
On our final night we met a very nice couple from Cornwall who had been travelling for two and a half months in India and spent the evening chatting to them. They had decided against going to Northern India (as they thought it would be too hectic) and had stayed in Goa, Hampi and Kerala. They had flown everywhere, as they took the train once and found it too unsettling. And when they said that they were ready to go home and just looking forward to a normal life again, I wasn't surprised. To get the most out of India you have to hold your nose and dig right in, jump in the river, stay relaxed and let the flow carry you along, no matter how alien it seems to you. And just trust that everything will turn out ok. It was always more than ok for us.
We spent the day on a canoe, and a houseboat lazily travelling down 900km of Keralan 'backwaters,' or inland rivers which have been used by locals since long before there were roads, and which they still ply today. Lazily floating along the shady, palm fringed inlets in a canoe, watching kids playing in the waters and women knee deep in the water scrubbing their clothes against the rocks, or making coir (rope from the fibre inside coconuts) was one of the most relaxing things I'd done in six months. We also took a houseboat out into the Arabian sea where we sailed over to the islands of Appeley and Kollam, and docked there to see traditional 'toddy tappers' extracting palm feni from flowers high up in coconut trees. It tasted fantastic, and apparently the longer you leave the liquid the more alcoholic it gets, so after 6 hours it is 3% and after 6 weeks it's 40%.
Next, we took an overnight train ride to Goa. We were ready to just kick back and relax, and had heard that Palolem was a pretty, chilled out beach so after an early cup of chai we hopped off the train in darkness at the little station of Canacona (at 5am, ouch). Instead of the usual insane crush of rickshaw drivers vying for our business there was one guy who said he knew some beach huts on stilts that had room, so we hopped in with another Indian guy and shared the 3km drive to Palolem beach.
It was still dark when we arrived, and not really knowing what our surroundings were (we just knew we could feel sand beneath our feet and hear the sea) we checked out our little wooden coco hut, which cost 350 rupees a nigh (£2.50 each). It had everything we needed. A bed, mosquito net, power point, bathroom and a little balcony out front. Then we took cold water showers and fell into exhausted sleep after the long journey, lulled by the sound sea.
When we woke up we strolled out of the hut and onto the perfect, palm tree shaded sandy crescent of Palolem beach which was our home for the next ten days. There's not much to say about those ten days other than that we spent most of our time sunbathing and playing beach sports (I literally AM the world champion at beach bat and ball) and shooting the breeze in the evenings, watching movies on the outdoor beach cinema, eating tandoori food and enjoying a glass (or two) of feni while gazing out to sea. Oh and watching the stars (we even saw shooting stars) from our blanket on the beach at night. They were so clear and made me feel so small and insignificant.
Sounds idyllic, and it was. Until two days before we were due to leave and I got my third and final bout of food poisoning in six months, which put me out of action for about a day and a half. Fortunately we'd picked up some antibiotics in Bangkok which helped me along. Horrible, but I was so used to getting sick by that point (and so shocked that it hadn't yet happened in India) that my first thought was a resigned 'Ok, here we go again. Just deal with it.' It's just one of the cons that you have to put up with if you want to travel.
On our final night we met a very nice couple from Cornwall who had been travelling for two and a half months in India and spent the evening chatting to them. They had decided against going to Northern India (as they thought it would be too hectic) and had stayed in Goa, Hampi and Kerala. They had flown everywhere, as they took the train once and found it too unsettling. And when they said that they were ready to go home and just looking forward to a normal life again, I wasn't surprised. To get the most out of India you have to hold your nose and dig right in, jump in the river, stay relaxed and let the flow carry you along, no matter how alien it seems to you. And just trust that everything will turn out ok. It was always more than ok for us.
Wednesday 14 April 2010
Calcutta and the 3 day train journey...
...And the answer to how you get from the very northernmost tip of India to the very southernmost when you can't afford to fly is this. A three hour jeep ride back down from the Himalayan mountains to Siliguri. A tuk tuk from Siliguri to the train station at New Jaipalguri. A 10 hour train from New Jaipalguri to Calcutta. And finally... an epic 42 hour, 2 night, 3 day train journey all the way from Calcutta down the Eastern coast of India and then reaching Chennai and cutting across Tamil Nadu to Ernakulum station in Kochin, Kerala. So that's what we did! The Indian train network really is fantastic, you can travel to absolutely anywhere from anywhere in relative comfort, and by our standards, for an absolute steal. It's so huge and extensive in fact that it's actually the world's biggest employer.
We stopped in Calcutta for 2 days, staying in the Sudder Street area, and other than the accommodation in the city being very overpriced (you simply can't get a bed for less than 600 rupees, and that's going to be dodgy) I really liked this friendly city. Calcutta, or Kolkata as it's now officially known, is like a microcosm for the whole of India, in that the gap between rich and poor is in your face like nowhere else. In the city where Mother Theresa taught at St Mary's High School, families with tiny children live on the side of the road and wash themselves from buckets, ragpicking litter to survive and hand-pulled rickshaw wallahs still remain (they're apparently the best way to get around in the monsoon) sleeping under their vehicles. Meanwhile just round the corner are air conditioned stores and restaurants where rich young Bengali's meet for coffee, wear beautiful clothes and speak to each other in English. Watching the streets of Calcutta is more fascinating than any movie.
Soon enough it was time to board the train that would be our home for the next three days. Usually we take 'sleeper' trains which are the cheapest class of Indian train and comprise of 3 rows of beds opposite each other, while the bottom two fold down to seats for daytime use (so if you want to sleep you book the upper berth) so you agree to put the beds up when you're ready to sleep with whoever else is sharing your section. In sleeper class there are no luxuries, the flat 'beds' are blue plastic pads and I usually use a jumper as a pillow and a sarong as a sheet. The windows are barred so natural air flows in (there are fans too) and you get a great view of the surrounding countryside. It's also incredibly noisy. However, as we knew that we would be on the train for SUCH a long time, we decided to book a 3 AC carriage, which means there are still six of you in a section, but the temperature is controlled, it's much quieter and you get a bed roll to sleep on. Most of Indian overnight train journeys don't cost more than £5, and this trip cost us about £18 each. Not bad at all when you consider you're getting 2 nights 'accommodation.'
So we settled in to the ride, reading, sleeping, drinking endless cups of chai tea from the chai-wallahs, buying bananas through the bars, gazing out at the beautiful and changing countryside beyond the window, stretching our legs on the station platforms (and even watching men having a wash on the railway line, oh how jealous I was!) and getting to know the families around us, who, as always were incredibly friendly and interested in our lives and telling us about Indian culture. They also kept us very well fed, giving us biriyanis and endless Indian sweets. The length of the journey didn't seem to phase them at all. It's just simply what you do if you want to get from one place to another. The Indian resilience never fails to impress me. On the whole they have never known privacy, or peace and quiet, so if someone starts talking loudly at 4am it doesn't bother them at all. That's just life.
Another note about Indian trains is that, like in all of India, you can pretty much do what you want. There are no health and safety rules, so if you want to open the train door and sit on the step watching the world rush by with the wind in your hair, waving at the kids playing cricket or living by the side of the tracks, you can. And that was one of my absolute favourite things to do, especially when they saw a white person and screeched at their friends to come and look and they all smiled and waved. In the same way, if the homeless, or young children want to take the train they can hop on and off, as long as they're not taking up anyone's bed or seat. It's a very common theme in India. No one (i.e. the government) seems to be looking out for the people, but no one's stopping them either. If they want to sleep inside the train station, they can. They won't be moved on.
So it was quite a challenge, and one we thought would never end, but of course it did, and actually it was a fascinating experience. Stumbling out onto the platform at Kochin we flagged down a tuk tuk and found a bed in Ernakulum before booking a houseboat trip on Kerala's famous backwaters for the next morning, ordered room service, switched on the TV and collapsed into our first good night's sleep in 3 days.
We stopped in Calcutta for 2 days, staying in the Sudder Street area, and other than the accommodation in the city being very overpriced (you simply can't get a bed for less than 600 rupees, and that's going to be dodgy) I really liked this friendly city. Calcutta, or Kolkata as it's now officially known, is like a microcosm for the whole of India, in that the gap between rich and poor is in your face like nowhere else. In the city where Mother Theresa taught at St Mary's High School, families with tiny children live on the side of the road and wash themselves from buckets, ragpicking litter to survive and hand-pulled rickshaw wallahs still remain (they're apparently the best way to get around in the monsoon) sleeping under their vehicles. Meanwhile just round the corner are air conditioned stores and restaurants where rich young Bengali's meet for coffee, wear beautiful clothes and speak to each other in English. Watching the streets of Calcutta is more fascinating than any movie.
Soon enough it was time to board the train that would be our home for the next three days. Usually we take 'sleeper' trains which are the cheapest class of Indian train and comprise of 3 rows of beds opposite each other, while the bottom two fold down to seats for daytime use (so if you want to sleep you book the upper berth) so you agree to put the beds up when you're ready to sleep with whoever else is sharing your section. In sleeper class there are no luxuries, the flat 'beds' are blue plastic pads and I usually use a jumper as a pillow and a sarong as a sheet. The windows are barred so natural air flows in (there are fans too) and you get a great view of the surrounding countryside. It's also incredibly noisy. However, as we knew that we would be on the train for SUCH a long time, we decided to book a 3 AC carriage, which means there are still six of you in a section, but the temperature is controlled, it's much quieter and you get a bed roll to sleep on. Most of Indian overnight train journeys don't cost more than £5, and this trip cost us about £18 each. Not bad at all when you consider you're getting 2 nights 'accommodation.'
So we settled in to the ride, reading, sleeping, drinking endless cups of chai tea from the chai-wallahs, buying bananas through the bars, gazing out at the beautiful and changing countryside beyond the window, stretching our legs on the station platforms (and even watching men having a wash on the railway line, oh how jealous I was!) and getting to know the families around us, who, as always were incredibly friendly and interested in our lives and telling us about Indian culture. They also kept us very well fed, giving us biriyanis and endless Indian sweets. The length of the journey didn't seem to phase them at all. It's just simply what you do if you want to get from one place to another. The Indian resilience never fails to impress me. On the whole they have never known privacy, or peace and quiet, so if someone starts talking loudly at 4am it doesn't bother them at all. That's just life.
Another note about Indian trains is that, like in all of India, you can pretty much do what you want. There are no health and safety rules, so if you want to open the train door and sit on the step watching the world rush by with the wind in your hair, waving at the kids playing cricket or living by the side of the tracks, you can. And that was one of my absolute favourite things to do, especially when they saw a white person and screeched at their friends to come and look and they all smiled and waved. In the same way, if the homeless, or young children want to take the train they can hop on and off, as long as they're not taking up anyone's bed or seat. It's a very common theme in India. No one (i.e. the government) seems to be looking out for the people, but no one's stopping them either. If they want to sleep inside the train station, they can. They won't be moved on.
So it was quite a challenge, and one we thought would never end, but of course it did, and actually it was a fascinating experience. Stumbling out onto the platform at Kochin we flagged down a tuk tuk and found a bed in Ernakulum before booking a houseboat trip on Kerala's famous backwaters for the next morning, ordered room service, switched on the TV and collapsed into our first good night's sleep in 3 days.
Darjeeling, India...
Yearning for some fresh air and a break from the heat and chaos of Northern India we headed next to the Indian hill station of Darjeeling way up in the Himalayas. After catching an overnight train from Varanasi to the closest train station, New Jaipalguri we were faced with two choices to reach our final destination. 1) The incredibly scenic Himalayan railway or 'Toy train,' which costs 700 rupees and takes 8 hours to chug 88km up into the mountains on the world's narrowest track. Or 2) A bumpy, 3 hour white-knuckle shared jeep journey along narrow, winding, sheer-drop roads for 100 rupees. In desperate need of some sleep and a shower we opted for the jeep (you just listen out for men shouting 'Darjeeling, DarjEELING, DARJEEEEEELING!') and waited an hour or so for it to fill up before we were on our way.
The change that took place in those three hours was staggering. New Jaipalguri was hot, dirty and quintessentially Indian, while up in the mountains the air became cooler and fresher with every passing kilometre. Foreign tourists seemed to be non-existent, and the faces of the people changed entirely from dark skinned and Indian, to the pale and more 'Chinese' features of the Tibetan and Nepalese. Young school girls wore jeans and hoodies, and women threw chunky cardigans over their sarees and salwar suits to keep out the cold. The winding roads were clean and tidy, with pretty and immaculately manicured pastel-coloured houses lining them. Signs of 'We want Gorkhaland' and 'Welcome to Gorkhaland' are everywhere - Nepalese Gurkhas have been campaigning for a separate state of Gorkhaland since the 1980s.
After hiking (there are no tuk tuks up there) through the ridiculously steep, winding streets with our enormous packs, and adjusting to the thin air at such high altitude, all with the help of a very friendly 10 year old schoolboy, we finally found a bed on the sixth try, and enjoyed a hot shower and a nap before heading out. We had dinner at Danfay Munal, a little family run place that served excellent Tibetan momo's (dumplings) and much needed cockle-warming tea.
The next morning was the earliest (and possibly the coldest) start we've had in the last six months, but we couldn't miss it. Every morning at 4am jeeps leave for the 11km drive to Tiger Hill, where as the sun rises you can view a spectacular 250km of himalayan mountain range including the mighty Khangchendzonga, whose snowy peak looks over Darjeeling (I believe it's the fourth highest mountain in the world) as well as 20 other mountains including, on a clear day, Everest. Wrapped up in blankets and sipping sweet coffee we watched as the sky turned from pitch black and starry to a beautiful blazing blue offsetting the white peaks. It was so beautiful and felt like such a privilege to see it I even got a little choked up.
The rest of the day was spent checking out the toy train, eating and shopping for Darjeeling tea at 80-year-old family run tea experts Nathmulls (I'm now well versed in plantations, flushes, soil types, brews and flavours) where you can buy the champagne of teas (apparently it's the best tea in the world) for 1400 rupees. As a budget traveller I settled for a 500 rupee package, but it's still the best tea I've ever tasted. Unfortunately the Padmaja Naidu Himalayan Zoo, which houses India's only collection of Siberian tigers, was closed that day, so we set to the task of figuring out one of our biggest challenges yet... Working out how to get from the Himalayas, to our next stop, Kerala, the very Southernmost tip of India...
The change that took place in those three hours was staggering. New Jaipalguri was hot, dirty and quintessentially Indian, while up in the mountains the air became cooler and fresher with every passing kilometre. Foreign tourists seemed to be non-existent, and the faces of the people changed entirely from dark skinned and Indian, to the pale and more 'Chinese' features of the Tibetan and Nepalese. Young school girls wore jeans and hoodies, and women threw chunky cardigans over their sarees and salwar suits to keep out the cold. The winding roads were clean and tidy, with pretty and immaculately manicured pastel-coloured houses lining them. Signs of 'We want Gorkhaland' and 'Welcome to Gorkhaland' are everywhere - Nepalese Gurkhas have been campaigning for a separate state of Gorkhaland since the 1980s.
After hiking (there are no tuk tuks up there) through the ridiculously steep, winding streets with our enormous packs, and adjusting to the thin air at such high altitude, all with the help of a very friendly 10 year old schoolboy, we finally found a bed on the sixth try, and enjoyed a hot shower and a nap before heading out. We had dinner at Danfay Munal, a little family run place that served excellent Tibetan momo's (dumplings) and much needed cockle-warming tea.
The next morning was the earliest (and possibly the coldest) start we've had in the last six months, but we couldn't miss it. Every morning at 4am jeeps leave for the 11km drive to Tiger Hill, where as the sun rises you can view a spectacular 250km of himalayan mountain range including the mighty Khangchendzonga, whose snowy peak looks over Darjeeling (I believe it's the fourth highest mountain in the world) as well as 20 other mountains including, on a clear day, Everest. Wrapped up in blankets and sipping sweet coffee we watched as the sky turned from pitch black and starry to a beautiful blazing blue offsetting the white peaks. It was so beautiful and felt like such a privilege to see it I even got a little choked up.
The rest of the day was spent checking out the toy train, eating and shopping for Darjeeling tea at 80-year-old family run tea experts Nathmulls (I'm now well versed in plantations, flushes, soil types, brews and flavours) where you can buy the champagne of teas (apparently it's the best tea in the world) for 1400 rupees. As a budget traveller I settled for a 500 rupee package, but it's still the best tea I've ever tasted. Unfortunately the Padmaja Naidu Himalayan Zoo, which houses India's only collection of Siberian tigers, was closed that day, so we set to the task of figuring out one of our biggest challenges yet... Working out how to get from the Himalayas, to our next stop, Kerala, the very Southernmost tip of India...
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