I Ate Live Monkey Brain!…
My traveling companions started turning up ill as we spent our week in Darjeeling. I was staying at a different hotel, so it wasn’t like they were just down the hall…but still, if you walk for an hour in a place like Darjeeling, you’re bound to find your friends. I went over to Andy’s Guesthouse, where they were all staying, and found Ernesto prostate in bed, bundled up like an Eskimo. So much for Swedes being impervious to the cold.
Went back to the town square, Chowrasta, and bumped into the Germans en route. Tom said he was starting to feel crappy too. They were – as Germans will do – planning well ahead, and had been to the train station to look into ways to get to Delhi. The trains were full for days ahead; that made me worry a bit, as I had to get to Calcutta, and then to Delhi, by month’s end. I walked down to the train station and inquired about trains to Calcutta – and sure enough, I couldn’t get one for the days I wanted, I had to go three days out. Booked it and made a note to think about where to go after Darjeeling.
This country is getting way too crowded – there, I said it. I’m not arguing for extreme measures like forced sterilization, or Catholicism…but this country feels a bit more crowded every time I return, and you start to see the implications when you want to book a train or hotel room. And it’s not like the government is investing wisely in infrastructure – they’ve finally built some new national highways, but the airports and other major works are still woefully behind (China). India won’t get any more pleasant/liveable until this issue is tackled…
Took a walk up Observatory Hill, near Chowrasta. This place doesn’t offer great views – lots of tall trees in the way – but does have a cool little Hindu temple surrounded by scores of Buddhist prayer flags. And apparently adherents of both religions come to pray there. I like that…
Met everyone except Ernesto (still ill) for dinner that night at Glenary’s. The Germans, Tom and Steffi, are very well-traveling and we told travel tales for hours over dinner, then over drinks at Joey’s. There was, of course, the usual one-upmanship and minor braggadocio, which I naturally won.
The next morning, nursing a slight hangover, I thought about my next destination, and decided to visit the little state of Sikkim. The Germans were planning to go there, and I was in no real hurry to get to Calcutta. Walked over with them to get my Sikkim travel permit – many little Indian states require these. Tom and Steffi had already started the process and had the form, and I wrote my details on their form – strength in numbers (or is that guilt by association?). We had to visit two offices – Foreigner Registration and District Magistrate. The first went off smoothly – just 10 minutes there – but the second was closed. It was Good Friday, and Holi (Hindu), and the Prophet Mohammed’s birthday all in one. I think Holi was the deciding holiday, but in any event it was annoying to walk all the way to the District Magistrate’s office for nothing. And why was the first office open, the second closed?
Now we’d have to wait till Monday. We’d wanted to get going to Sikkim on Sunday. Oh well. Another day or so in Darjeeling wouldn’t be a hardship.
I moved over to Andy’s Guesthouse, as my place, Dekeling, was booked out. I was happy enough to move and be closer to my new friends. And Dekeling had pissed me off – my room was unbearably noisy in the morning, for one, it was over the breakfast room and it sounded like an ale house at 7:30 a.m. Also, there was construction going on in the front and I was constantly wading through gravel and concrete. You’ve gotta do maintenance, sure, but this was a little painful for guests. As I checked out they seemed penitent, and gave me a little Tibetan prayer shawl to say thanks. That was cool.
Andy’s is more basic, but perfectly fine. And there’s a great little rooftop viewing station. It was still cloudy and I couldn’t see Kanchenjunga – and wasn’t to see it during my stay in the north, except for a 5-minute stint at a nearby viewing area when the clouds cleared slightly.
Tibetans are all over Darjeeling. They had a couple protests and speeches while I was there. It’s odd – some of them walk around with Hindu tikkas on their foreheads. I wonder why – perhaps to fit in with the locals?
A very drunk fellow was being carried down the main drag – the Mall – by his friends. Reminded me of a few instances in Goa. I made a mental note to stick to beer up here.
Walked a ways out of town to see a prominent Buddhist gompa. The road became pretty steep…it started to rain…I had my little umbrella but was still wet with sweat as I reached the gompa. The gompa itself wasn’t particularly awesome, but it had a nice setting out on a small ridge. I checked it out for a bit, then walked back to town. En route I passed by a gang of monkeys. After a minute I heard shrieking and looked back – they were having it out and it got violent. Then some ran off and it was all over. We humans wouldn’t do that…
Nancy Pelosi, the US Speaker of the House of Representatives, was in Dharamshala for a couple days. The trip was planned a while back, so it wasn’t that she came over to protest the Chinese crackdown in Tibet. But she got loads of headlines here, and pissed off the Chinese more than such a trip ordinarily would have. When the Dems control all 3 branches of government (you read it here), what will they do re China? I hope the populist/rabble-rousing bullshit won’t carry through. I suspect it won’t – every candidate (Repubs too) go on about China during the elections, then do nothing once in office. I suspect that’s the best policy. Although tweaking their noses on the Olympics would feel very good…
That night, back at Joey’s with the Swedes. Ernesto had recovered by now. We had met for high tea at the Elgin Hotel, a pretty solid bit of England still existent in India. It was the height of the Holi holiday, which includes everyone going around rubbing colored chalk on each other. Not my favorite thing…but hard to avoid. Oh, and there’s a fair bit of drinking too. As closing time loomed, a bunch of hammered locals streamed into the bar and started annoying the barman, a high-strung guy in the best of times. Tempers flared…an ashtray got broken…this seemed to set off the barman. Things looked set to go off, but calm soon returned. I actually think our presence helped – the locals were a bit embarrassed to be acting so stupid in front of tourists. Eventually the bar closed and we walked home.
The holiday continued the next day, and I finally got into the spirit. Not because I wanted to, but because the chalk-dudes got me. I was walked back a viewing station, and 5-6 locals with chalk (they were completely covered in it) walked up to a couple other foreigners and gave them a gentle tikka on the forehead. Then they spotted me and came over. I could have run, but that would have been cowardly, so I submitted to my punishment. I said ‘just a tikka,’ the lead guy assented…but then smeared my head with a handful of chalk. I briefly considered breaking his neck, but was outnumbered so simply said something like ‘thanks asshole’ and walked on. Got quite a few stares as I ambled back to Andy’s to wash off. There was lots of hot water available, so I stood under the shower head for a while and got clean. And made a note to stay well clear of roving chalk-heads till Holi concluded…
Tom was getting worse, and spent an entire day in his room at Andy’s pretty much chained to the toilet. I wondered when I’d get so lucky. Seemed like a bug and not food poisoning. Went with Ernesto and Teresa down to the ‘mall’ near Joey’s to check out the ‘department store’ there. They went shopping for jeans – there was a ‘Levi’s Store’ there that seemed legit. As I walked around Big Bazaar I was semi-impressed – they had a huge range of stuff there, including lots of foreign foods and goods. Then I felt a shift in my intestines, and knew I’d need to see the man pretty soon. Told the Swedes I was heading back to Andy’s, and walked very briskly up the hill till I got to my room. I managed to avoid becoming ill, but was queasy then and for a day or so afterward. Lomodil and grapefruit seed extract seemed to get me through the worst of it.
Spent that night at Glenary’s and Joey’s, two of our favorite places. It was our last night in town – we were getting our Sikkim permits the next morning, all 5 of us, and then setting off for Gangtok, the capital, in the afternoon. That was the plan, anyway. Avoided getting too drunk that night – facing Indian bureaucrats with a hangover would be way too depressing.
The Germans told me they’d been sitting in Sonam’s Kitchen (best breakfasts in Asia – seriously) and watched a Westerner dressed entirely in Indian clothing try to negotiate the price of a candy from 4 rupees to 3 rupees. The store owner wouldn’t budge, and the Westerner finally walked out. Give me a break.
Got the Sikkim permits without much ado, and got into our shared jeep to Gangtok. We’d been in Darjeeling for a full week, and had spent it pretty much hanging out together. Good fun. I’m very much a solo traveler and generally enjoy my privacy, but the Swedes and Germans were great company and I was happy to spend a couple more days (that’s all I had before leaving for Calcutta) together in Sikkim.
We’d read about an Italian restaurant called, naturally enough, ‘Little Italy,’ in our guidebook. This place offered many dishes, including spaghetti with meatballs, which brought to mind (for me, at least) the old kid’s song ‘On Top of Spaghetti.’ I remembered the first few lines, then faltered, but a quick check on my handphone’s Internet brought the rest. I sang it a couple times en route to Gangtok – the Europeans seemed to like it.
We stopped just once, in a small town where the main biz seemed to be washing jeeps. We were supposed to stop for 10 minutes…we stayed there for more like 30, during which time the kid washing the vehicle covered every molecule, I swear. He did an incredibly thorough job – not something you often see in this country. Of course, he used the equivalent of a small lake of water to do it. I read somewhere that the average commercial carwash uses a fraction of the water that a guy washing his car at home uses. This came to mind as I watched water run down the road and into the ditches. I guess this part of India gets a good amount of water, but in Darjeeling there were the usual requests to be careful with it, so I wondered. Then we got back in the jeep and continued on.
Got into Sikkim – had to stop and get our passports stamped. Read more about Sikkim in my guidebook. The state used to be independent, until 1975 – but I suspect it was a dodgy independence which rested on the goodwill of India, and perhaps China. Now it’s one of the smallest Indian states, and abuts Tibet, Nepal and Bhutan, as well as West Bengal state – a handy if precarious location which ensures that some travelers stop there. I just wanted to see a new place – so did the Swedes. The Germans had a week or more, so were likely to do some minor trekking. One key benefit of visiting Sikkim is to get a closer look at Kanchenjunga…but it was still cloudy, and Gangtok isn’t the closest point, so more disappointment ensued.
Sikkim is a ‘recent acquisition’ of India’s, as I mentioned. One thing India has done to cement the bond is to pour money into the state, so you see lots of huge buildings and a degree of affluence that is surprising for such a backwater. We passed by a large noodle factory – Wai-Wai, and other large buildings. One had the initials ‘SMIT.’ We tried to come up with its meaning – Ernesto guessed ‘Sikkim Meatball Italian Trattoria.’ We obviously had meatballs on the brain and were set for a reckoning that night at Little Italy…
Got into Gangtok – checked into our hotel, Travel Lodge, a decent place with hot water and TV, but a bit musty. And it offers room service – I generally avoid these sorts of places. The rooms are small, there’s no real table for eating, so guess where people eat their food? I know how I eat – I’m generally neat and don’t get more than 5-6 pieces of food on my clothes…but watching Indians chow down with their hands, you’ve gotta think that 20% doesn’t wind up in their mouths.
Washed up and went out for dinner. We hadn’t had lunch that day, so were starving. As we walked down the hill – quite a ways – to Little Italy, it started to rain. We were short of umbrellas, but managed to only get 80% wet. The restaurant was a seriously long walk – about 30 minutes – and the locals weren’t that helpful about providing accurate directions/estimates of timing. Finally got there, hungry, wet and tired. Ordered some local beers – Dansberg Blue – and a huge amount of food. The meatballs were real beef – probably from water buffalo, not sure. They were done up with a spicy Indian-style sauce which wasn’t great, but I needed meat and was happy enough. And the pizzas were OK too – a bit sweet (welcome to India), but solid. We stayed there for hours, drinking and gorging. Then got a taxi back up the hill to the hotel.
Watched ‘Memoirs of a Geisha’ that night on HBO. Hadn’t really watched TV in ages, and I like this movie. Thought about my time in Japan – with rose-colored glasses. I wouldn’t mind a kilo or two of sushi. Maybe I’ll check in with my ex-colleague in Tokyo and see where he stands with getting a meeting with an old client of mine…he might need a bit of help??
Gangtok is a modest place. It’s set on a hillside, as is Darjeeling and many other hill-stations. When the weather is good, I hear the views are terrific – but we were a little early in the season and weren’t lucky. I had to head to the NJP train station a few hours south the next day, to board a train to Calcutta…the Swedes decided to share a jeep with me, and get on a train one day later to Jaipur. Rajasthan was their next destination. So it was just a short stint in Sikkim for us; the Germans decided to move to Pelling, to the west, the next morning, in hopes of getting a real view of the peaks.
Spent our only full day in Gangtok making travel plans and then walking around. Getting our jeeps and trains sorted took some time. Then we took a cab out to the viewing area of Ganesh Tok. Pretty good views of town and nearby hills, but not farther. Walked toward a famous gompa…got lost…ended up at a Hindu mandir (temple) instead…punted and caught a taxi back to town. Checked the Internet and saw that the Red Sox won their opener in Tokyo. Thought about tempura and udon noodles.
The Swedes – I doubt this technique qualifies as camera obscura, but it’s kind of unusual:
Had dinner that night at perhaps the poshest spot in Gangtok, Tangerine. Nice atmosphere and good food. It was our final night all together – in the morning we’d split up. Had quite a few beers and told a few more stories. I’d miss Tom and Steffi, we’d come together with them by chance at the NJP station and had spent the past 8 or so days with them. Exchanged contact info, a few hugs, and split up. I decided to walk off dinner on the town’s walking arcade, a very pleasant stretch lined with shops, hotels and restaurants, and thankfully no cars. Walking down this stretch, you forget you’re in a place like Sikkim. I walked to the end and started back – then felt a nasty rumbling in the belly. Oh no. I briefly recalled Lisa’s father’s diagnosis from a Goan doctor – he was perfectly healthy, but his pancreas couldn’t be observed because of some ‘bowel gas.’ I was a good mile from my hotel, and was totally exposed. I got going quickly, and despite a couple scary moments I made it back to my toilet and sat down in a high state of relief.
Was it the food from Tangerine? Perhaps – the ‘effect’ was rapid. I’d had the house special pork dish that night, as well as a very spicy masala papad – but I suspected that I’d caught a case of what Ernesto and Tom previously had, and probably hadn’t shaken yet. I downed some grapefruit seed extract and crossed my fingers.
As I fell asleep that night, I briefly worried about my permit situation. I was listed on a page along with the Germans, who had possession of the actual piece of paper. And they were taking off the next morning at 6:30 a.m. for Pelling. I had meant to photocopy the page, but had forgotten. Should I wake them now, and look for a place to Xerox the page. Nah…I went to sleep and decided to try my luck. My passport had been stamped and my permit details recorded on entry – I figured leaving Sikkim wouldn’t be a real issue.
Next morning, met the Swedes for breakfast before we checked out and got going to NJP (New Jalpaiguri, a major train station near the sizeable town of Siliguri). Ernesto looked awful – he was again ill, probably with a recurrence of the same thing he’d had back in Darjeeling. Maybe he and Tom were playing tag. I didn’t want to play…
I had only been to Calcutta very briefly, back in 1992, and wanted to spend a couple days seeing its sights. I don’t need to get into a lengthy history of the place, or its reputation – you already know it or can learn about it easily enough. Anyway, my plan was just a bit of sight-seeing before heading to Delhi on the 29th.
We got in our jeep to NJP. Teresa was also feeling weak – it was fortuitous that we had rented an entire jeep for ourselves and not gone in for the 10 passengers/jeep rent-a-seat deal. The Swedes slept for much of the trip while I looked out the window. At the Sikkim border stop we sailed right through – nothing checked. I was deeply pleased not to have woken the Germans in Gangtok. But as we drove onto the bridge separating Sikkim from West Bengal, we hit a snare. Loads of cops and soldiers – a full-blown Tibet anti-China rally on the far side. Something happened that caused a stir – and the cops made us move back, back onto the Sikkim side. We were stuck there for a few minutes – but weren’t in a real hurry, as my train wasn’t till that night, and the Swedes were spending that night at Siliguri. Still, the very state of motionless was a bit jarring and we wondered about our status and prospects.
Got moving again soon enough. Drove by the demonstration, saw a banner trashing the China Olympic Games. Fair enough. Still wasn’t sure what had held us up, beyond general protesting – later read that a Tibetan had tried to set himself on fire. The protest was not allowed into Sikkim, so it stayed on the West Bengal side. And for all I know, it’s still going on there.
Saw a bus plying between Siliguri and a town called ‘Mungpoo.’ One of the best town names I’ve come across…
At Siliguri, the Swedes disembarked. We were a bit sad as we said our goodbyes. Ernesto, Teresa and I had met on the Varanasi-NJP train nearly 10 days beforehand, and we’d spent lots of time together since. They’d overcome my usual cranky anti-social mien and we’d gotten surprisingly close. I felt badly that they were both feeling ill, and that we hadn’t talked that much on our ‘final ride.’ Still, I think we’ll stay in touch and I’d be happy to go see them in Stockholm at some point.
Proceeded to NJP station. I had to kill a few hours, and found the ‘upper class waiting room,’ where there was precisely one seat available. Parked myself there, and read my book – ‘A Fine Balance’ by Rohinton Mistry. I’d neglected the book a bit up north – friends and television both kept me away from it. I wanted to finish it while in India, then stock up on a few more books, so now cranked away. The woman sitting next to me was a real character – she ate a huge plate of rice and vegetables, and spoke to me in Hindi. Her daughter, a recently graduated doctor, translated. These two couldn’t have been more dissimilar. The woman finished her plate, then proceeded to belch 4-5 times over the next hour – the aroma was not pleasant. The daughter was far more polished and was good fun.
Time to board the train to Calcutta, an overnight trip. Found my berth easily enough. Thought about my time up north, in the Indian Himalaya…I’d spent 10 days up there and had enjoyed it immensely. The mountains are a superb part of India – as are the beaches. I’d also visited places like Rajasthan and Varanasi, and generally enjoyed them…but if I had to spend a stretch of time in the country, it would be in the mountains and beaches. Please don’t put a gun to my head and decide which of those two I prefer…
It was noticeably hotter down here on the plains – just that morning I’d rued the cold morning air and wanted some heat. Now I’d be getting what I wanted, and would probably miss the chilly air.
I watched a coolie load suitcases on his head, only cushioned by a wound-up rag. Incredible weight on his noggin. Looked over at the man in the berth across the aisle – he was reading ‘The Three Little Piggies.’ Either learning English, or previewing the book for his child. I settled into my berth and soon fell asleep.
Woke up a few hours before reaching Calcutta. I could carry on here, as I’ve now been in the city for a day, but I’ll leave it for next week. Big Indian cities deserve their own entry – this feels like a natural break point in my narrative. Over and out.
Tags: Travel
mbsloney
SOunds like you are winding down this leg of the travels. You heading back to the US soon?