Pokhara
Me and not that many others here in the launch neighborhood of Annapurna treks. Lakeside Pokhara a strip so purely tuned into the every need, forgotten clothing item, yearning to reach back to home, to refill post trek, and chill of each backpacker, that I can't imagine having an independent whim, or course of action, here. In that way it's wonderful, but in that way I think (just yet) I prefer Sikkim's un-evolved trek status.
Pokhara - second city of Nepal, nested amongst mountains 10 times its height (it's at 2,700, all around peaks above 26,000' - none of which I could see today), has a pretty lake alongside of which most of the things touristic are perched, a few other dusty roads that head to "Damside", to the market, an airport (my arrival point) and not a lot else. Backpackers are granted a guilt free stop without cultural obligations. Town's modern, building's dull - and all that fake North Face gear is cool, the knit socks colorful, and the jewelry's not so very heavy to fit in the pack. If all of Bangkok were Kho San Road, or all of Kathmandu Thamel.
Flight tomorrow early, again on Cosmic Air, for Jomsom. Jomsom ends the flying portion of this short trip, and I start to move on the ground. I'll actually have just two nights in tea house/lodges and 3 days trekking but already feel glad for this brief intro to Nepal trekking. Just being here, seeing the development, set up of Pokhara, gives me a good balance vs. what I saw in Sikkim.
So, quiet this end till Thursday - but love and good karma sent out everywhere from the trail.
C
Sunday, February 27, 2005
Without Boots
Up there with forgetting a passport or plane ticket, forgetting one's hiking boots as one prepares to fly to an Annapurna circuit start point ranks up there. My Dansko clogs - house shoes - had lulled my feet right out the door, right past my boots in the hallway. Look at all the other good trekkers on my flight - collapsible-aluminum walking sticks, North Face tip-to-toe and sturdy hiking boots. Me in clogs.
And trekkers abroad are a critical lot. Lots of eying - fleece (check), yellow pack (a bit small but North Face so check), stretchy, resilient-looking pants that appear sporty (check), yellow thread round wrist (some head-nod to Buddhism which is a big, though vague, check). Then they look down...I tuck my feet in shame.
UPDATE: Bought over-priced, under-padded hiking boots in Pokhara - sort of no-name, no-technology boots. You can buy everything in Pokhara, you can even rent a lot of things but not hiking boots if you have size 6 feet.
And trekkers abroad are a critical lot. Lots of eying - fleece (check), yellow pack (a bit small but North Face so check), stretchy, resilient-looking pants that appear sporty (check), yellow thread round wrist (some head-nod to Buddhism which is a big, though vague, check). Then they look down...I tuck my feet in shame.
UPDATE: Bought over-priced, under-padded hiking boots in Pokhara - sort of no-name, no-technology boots. You can buy everything in Pokhara, you can even rent a lot of things but not hiking boots if you have size 6 feet.
Oasis in the valley: coming into Kagbeni
"Kublai: I do not know how you have time to visit all the countries you describe to me. It seems to me you have never moved from this garden."
Calvino, Invisible Cities.
Saturday, February 26, 2005
Nepal's Okay
Khatamandu, Nina's Apartment (not a cafe at all)
Was one of just two foreigners on my Indian Air flight here. Tail end of low season but still, can't be good or normal for Nepal's tourism. Nina and boyfriend Lobsang met at quiet airport and transition from solo travel to well-looked-after house guest made with ease. Have my own bedroom, an 8 minute shower's worth of hot water, internet on Nina's laptop, filtered water on tap in the kitchen and access to Nina's thorough library of travel books. Also, advice and perfectly tailored travel plans via her travel agents around the corner from the palace. Highly recommend Nina's - plus, no other backpackers and not yet listed in LP.
Calm all around - only signs of tension are the blue camouflaged (invisible in where??) armed police with enormous guns all around the city. And the lack of tourists where I assume there were once many. Because it's a calmer, cleaner and emptier city than Calcutta, and this my first visit, Kathmandu appears in deceptively excellent shape to me. I'd have declared Calcutta the emergency region...
But then you hear the stories. Went to a friend of Nina's birthday last night, lots of development people previously stationed in the outlying regions now in the city, waiting. Not sure how long they'd be stuck in Kathmandu, when they could return safely to abandoned rural posts. I couldn't book a flight to Pokhara today because, with the Maoists blocking all the roads, airlines are swamped with all who would previously have traveled by road.
The Annapurna trek-segment starts tomorrow with night in Pokhara. Monday AM flight to Jomsom and then a three day tea-house trek from there. Nina says it's one of the very few truly safe pockets in the country right now. There and close in to Everest. Apparently, Nepalis in those regions well enough off economically via tourism, and I guess attentions from high up, that they've spurned the Maoists for the time being - not let them in to meddle, and so remain pockets (beautiful ones) of calm.
So- I'm safe, Nina and friends are safe, but the mood is anxious. Even the very old timers - dug in from Peace Corp postings in the '60's, or harvesting pot since the '70's -- are getting nervous, wondering how far the collapse will go. Such a shame - this really does seem like a remarkable place. Mad I've left it till now to get here. Those very familiar with the country report how much it's changed and none say for the better. Kathmandu continues to get crowded, the narrow roads fill, as the rest of the country flees from desperate and economically impossible regions and lives.
Much love from Kathmandu to all still checking in. Bars are still open (amazing jazz bar - serves momos and music fantastic: http://www.kathmandujazzfestival.com/), prices for prayer flags and Tibetan tea bowls in Thamel are negotiable and the best hotels have all halved and quartered their rates. And it's warm during the days in the Kali Gandaki valley, and nights are fleece weight.
C
Was one of just two foreigners on my Indian Air flight here. Tail end of low season but still, can't be good or normal for Nepal's tourism. Nina and boyfriend Lobsang met at quiet airport and transition from solo travel to well-looked-after house guest made with ease. Have my own bedroom, an 8 minute shower's worth of hot water, internet on Nina's laptop, filtered water on tap in the kitchen and access to Nina's thorough library of travel books. Also, advice and perfectly tailored travel plans via her travel agents around the corner from the palace. Highly recommend Nina's - plus, no other backpackers and not yet listed in LP.
Calm all around - only signs of tension are the blue camouflaged (invisible in where??) armed police with enormous guns all around the city. And the lack of tourists where I assume there were once many. Because it's a calmer, cleaner and emptier city than Calcutta, and this my first visit, Kathmandu appears in deceptively excellent shape to me. I'd have declared Calcutta the emergency region...
But then you hear the stories. Went to a friend of Nina's birthday last night, lots of development people previously stationed in the outlying regions now in the city, waiting. Not sure how long they'd be stuck in Kathmandu, when they could return safely to abandoned rural posts. I couldn't book a flight to Pokhara today because, with the Maoists blocking all the roads, airlines are swamped with all who would previously have traveled by road.
The Annapurna trek-segment starts tomorrow with night in Pokhara. Monday AM flight to Jomsom and then a three day tea-house trek from there. Nina says it's one of the very few truly safe pockets in the country right now. There and close in to Everest. Apparently, Nepalis in those regions well enough off economically via tourism, and I guess attentions from high up, that they've spurned the Maoists for the time being - not let them in to meddle, and so remain pockets (beautiful ones) of calm.
So- I'm safe, Nina and friends are safe, but the mood is anxious. Even the very old timers - dug in from Peace Corp postings in the '60's, or harvesting pot since the '70's -- are getting nervous, wondering how far the collapse will go. Such a shame - this really does seem like a remarkable place. Mad I've left it till now to get here. Those very familiar with the country report how much it's changed and none say for the better. Kathmandu continues to get crowded, the narrow roads fill, as the rest of the country flees from desperate and economically impossible regions and lives.
Much love from Kathmandu to all still checking in. Bars are still open (amazing jazz bar - serves momos and music fantastic: http://www.kathmandujazzfestival.com/), prices for prayer flags and Tibetan tea bowls in Thamel are negotiable and the best hotels have all halved and quartered their rates. And it's warm during the days in the Kali Gandaki valley, and nights are fleece weight.
C
Backwards Looking
"'And why are ruins beautiful?' he asked.
'And what is beauty? Is it the cloak of God.'"
Ackerly, Hindoo Holiday
Friday, February 25, 2005
Thursday, February 24, 2005
Northern prayer flags, Yumthang Valley Sikkim
"Be ahead of all departure, as if it were
behind you like the winter that's just passed.
for among winters there's one so endlessly winter
that, wintering out, your heart will really last.
Be dead forever in Euydice - rise gain, singing
more, praising more, rise into pure harmony.
be here among us the vanishing in the realm of entropy,
be a ringing glass that shatters as it rings.
Be - and at the same time know the implication
of non-being, the endless round of your inner vibration,
so you can fulfill it fully just this once.
To nature's whole supply of speechless, dumb,
and used up things, the unspeakable sums,
rejoicing, add yourself and nullify the count."
Rilke, "Sonnet 13"
The Descent
Left Darjeeling yesterday afternoon, miserably fortified by a horrendous pot of coffee on the deck of the Windamere. Did have a good gawk at hotel's prominently arrayed colonial-era invites, Agha Khan bar chits, elaborate seating plans and b&w photos of ladies smoking cigars.
Road down to the plains a journey through the clouds. Cows appear and fade away. A monk emerges from a gray puff. As we descend into Ghoom, the Toy Train's steam mixes with the mist and for a few seconds we're entirely engulfed.
The outer edge of visibility is the distance markers appearing at the road's edge: Kurseong 27, Siliguri 62 (pause).
Darjeeling, I understant, 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 a journey through the clouds. Cows appear and fade away. A monk emerges from a gray puff. As we descend into Ghoom, the Toy Train's steam mixes with the mist and for a few seconds we're entirely engulfed.
The outer edge of visibility is the distance markers appearing at the road's edge: Kurseong 27, Siliguri 62 (pause).
Darjeeling, I understant, 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
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
Silence Broken, Darjeeling
DARJEELING- Glennary's Cafe
Internet + Sikkim = maybe yes/perhaps not sort of thing. Yesterday was a no - not anywhere in town, not in the offices - reason? No idea - no one else did either.
Got a brief call into R in the eve from Princess Hope's cell on her driveway. R with coffee, briefcase and in elevator, and my end of the connection vague but still, nice to make contact.
But, returned to the mostly on-line world of Darjeeling a few hours back. For a treat, checked into the Windamere. Which will be nicely balanced by a second class, non AC seat (not sleeper) to Calcutta tomorrow night. One night of Brit Raj hangover - fire lit in the room at 5:30, high tea.
madame, your goodname?
You are bachelor?
What country you are coming from?
Will revel in the Victorian room, air the socks by the fire, recharge laptop and cameras, take a BATH in a clawfoot tub and prepare for a night on the Uttar Banga. From Calcutta station to airport - then Nepal! Nina's planning a trek Jomson-Kagbeni-Muktinath-Jomson (new to me). Have been so focused on Sikkim will need to read up on Nepal pronto.
Pooped from arrival but energy returning via emails from R (fantastic ones), coffee and thrill of reaching out to the world again, newspapers...
Last night, three Bengali couples also at the Potala Hotel, invited me - via management - to a party they were throwing in a windowless room on the ground floor. Tore myself from bed and Nat Geo Mummies show thinking I might be in for some fun, food, good times.
Three sober couples, jiggle dancing to Bollywood toons dj-ed by a hotel staff member. And me. 20 mins in - neither food, beer, nor talk of a larger group - I bowed and thank you'd my way back to my bed.
Little Hope came round the hotel at 5:30 this morning to walk me around the hill top Palace and royal Temple.
Little Hope is a bit of a rockstar for Gangtok's old-timers taking their own constitionals. They remember her father the king, she's named for her mother the queen. She carries her lineage with real grace, greets her well-wishers even as she remembers her childhood to me.
We encountered Mr. Dong en route, advisor to Sikkim's Tourism Minister. LH did a gracious intro but I was bleary and not at all sure what one asks a sub-tourism minister. Whether to take the attack - why so many permits!? why such crappy roads! why do you let horrendous pink cement buildings be built on top of century-old cottages!!? Or take the gentle route and praise this little land, his precarious dominion, this India-ruled slip of a state where his power could only be dwindling. Did neither well and I think Mr Dong left a little baffled, but promising to personally look into permits for the northwest when I return though cautioning, "Indian bureaucracy nothing like the British version".
Little H and I parted ways at the head of the toe path down to Tibet Road. Inauspiciously (it seemed to me), we stopped at the gaping back of open meat truck, a fellow making a delivery of 5 cow carcases.
My Jeep companions to Darjeeling an annoying foursome of Bengali tourists. Nattering on cell phones in tattling voices, they took half an hour for our ten min breakfast stop. Soon enough swept up in the views so faded them out. My very first front seat perspective on the route have entirely different impressions of the journey. Must report front vs. way-back-seat versions of the trip.
Love to all reading this, special big hug to R.
C
Internet + Sikkim = maybe yes/perhaps not sort of thing. Yesterday was a no - not anywhere in town, not in the offices - reason? No idea - no one else did either.
Got a brief call into R in the eve from Princess Hope's cell on her driveway. R with coffee, briefcase and in elevator, and my end of the connection vague but still, nice to make contact.
But, returned to the mostly on-line world of Darjeeling a few hours back. For a treat, checked into the Windamere. Which will be nicely balanced by a second class, non AC seat (not sleeper) to Calcutta tomorrow night. One night of Brit Raj hangover - fire lit in the room at 5:30, high tea.
madame, your goodname?
You are bachelor?
What country you are coming from?
Will revel in the Victorian room, air the socks by the fire, recharge laptop and cameras, take a BATH in a clawfoot tub and prepare for a night on the Uttar Banga. From Calcutta station to airport - then Nepal! Nina's planning a trek Jomson-Kagbeni-Muktinath-Jomson (new to me). Have been so focused on Sikkim will need to read up on Nepal pronto.
Pooped from arrival but energy returning via emails from R (fantastic ones), coffee and thrill of reaching out to the world again, newspapers...
Last night, three Bengali couples also at the Potala Hotel, invited me - via management - to a party they were throwing in a windowless room on the ground floor. Tore myself from bed and Nat Geo Mummies show thinking I might be in for some fun, food, good times.
Three sober couples, jiggle dancing to Bollywood toons dj-ed by a hotel staff member. And me. 20 mins in - neither food, beer, nor talk of a larger group - I bowed and thank you'd my way back to my bed.
Little Hope came round the hotel at 5:30 this morning to walk me around the hill top Palace and royal Temple.
Little Hope is a bit of a rockstar for Gangtok's old-timers taking their own constitionals. They remember her father the king, she's named for her mother the queen. She carries her lineage with real grace, greets her well-wishers even as she remembers her childhood to me.
We encountered Mr. Dong en route, advisor to Sikkim's Tourism Minister. LH did a gracious intro but I was bleary and not at all sure what one asks a sub-tourism minister. Whether to take the attack - why so many permits!? why such crappy roads! why do you let horrendous pink cement buildings be built on top of century-old cottages!!? Or take the gentle route and praise this little land, his precarious dominion, this India-ruled slip of a state where his power could only be dwindling. Did neither well and I think Mr Dong left a little baffled, but promising to personally look into permits for the northwest when I return though cautioning, "Indian bureaucracy nothing like the British version".
Little H and I parted ways at the head of the toe path down to Tibet Road. Inauspiciously (it seemed to me), we stopped at the gaping back of open meat truck, a fellow making a delivery of 5 cow carcases.
My Jeep companions to Darjeeling an annoying foursome of Bengali tourists. Nattering on cell phones in tattling voices, they took half an hour for our ten min breakfast stop. Soon enough swept up in the views so faded them out. My very first front seat perspective on the route have entirely different impressions of the journey. Must report front vs. way-back-seat versions of the trip.
Love to all reading this, special big hug to R.
C
The Uttar Banga
DARJEELING
The Uttar Banga out of NJP at 8:15 this eve. No matter how hot the shower this morning, how cozy the room with coal fire in the grate, how decadent having the hotel fellow place a hot water bottle under the bed covers and (not sure why) flush my toilet, all that was the Windamere will seem very far away on the Uttar Banga this eve. Will perch atop my pack and suitcase, parcel out pee breaks and hope for morning to come, with arrival at Calcutta's Sealdah station.
Fell asleep reading up on Nepal's Maoist rebels last night. Dry but feel obliged to have the gist of things - an understanding of the group that's brought a land to its knees and, indirectly, tourism to a near stand-still.
Will have, I hope, slightly better observed and informed observations in a matter of days...
Next from Nepal.
Love to all from Darjeeling. last call for tea requests.
C
The Uttar Banga out of NJP at 8:15 this eve. No matter how hot the shower this morning, how cozy the room with coal fire in the grate, how decadent having the hotel fellow place a hot water bottle under the bed covers and (not sure why) flush my toilet, all that was the Windamere will seem very far away on the Uttar Banga this eve. Will perch atop my pack and suitcase, parcel out pee breaks and hope for morning to come, with arrival at Calcutta's Sealdah station.
Fell asleep reading up on Nepal's Maoist rebels last night. Dry but feel obliged to have the gist of things - an understanding of the group that's brought a land to its knees and, indirectly, tourism to a near stand-still.
Will have, I hope, slightly better observed and informed observations in a matter of days...
Next from Nepal.
Love to all from Darjeeling. last call for tea requests.
C
2nd AC
Calcutta Int'l Airport - the Sify Cafe (now a card-carrying member)
Clearly too pampered till now. Windamere with its hot water bottle tradition lulled me, muffled my road smarts. No call for my whinging about a second class train seat, and no need for upgrade. The Uttar Banga, while the least romantic of the three trains that leave NJP for Calcutta every eve (the romancers: The Darjeeling Mail and the Kanchenjunga Express), it may be the least intimidating.
Once it revealed the secret of which of the nameless, numberless identical sleeper cars was my S1, all fell into place and there was no call whatsoever for me to lash myself and bag to the seat. In the berth opposite mine: a grandmother whose son came prepared her bed, switched off her reading light. Below a chubby lady happy more than happy to stow my case beneath her seat. Across the train aisle, a form that slept the entire journey finish beneath an embroidered Kashmiri shawl. The conductor made a pointof checking in one me. Head propped on my daypack, reading Indian Travelers Tales, I fell right back in love with India.
For all the good vibes, sleep did not just tip toe in. My berth was in the compartment's social neighborhood of smoke breaks, morning throat clearings, ladies with their with toothpasted-toothbrushes, chattering bathroom queues and, intermittently, the chai/coffee wallahs. The stations themselves - save for the vendors who boarded at them - were quiet in the morning, only birdsong.
And so we came into Sealdah.
C
Clearly too pampered till now. Windamere with its hot water bottle tradition lulled me, muffled my road smarts. No call for my whinging about a second class train seat, and no need for upgrade. The Uttar Banga, while the least romantic of the three trains that leave NJP for Calcutta every eve (the romancers: The Darjeeling Mail and the Kanchenjunga Express), it may be the least intimidating.
Once it revealed the secret of which of the nameless, numberless identical sleeper cars was my S1, all fell into place and there was no call whatsoever for me to lash myself and bag to the seat. In the berth opposite mine: a grandmother whose son came prepared her bed, switched off her reading light. Below a chubby lady happy more than happy to stow my case beneath her seat. Across the train aisle, a form that slept the entire journey finish beneath an embroidered Kashmiri shawl. The conductor made a pointof checking in one me. Head propped on my daypack, reading Indian Travelers Tales, I fell right back in love with India.
For all the good vibes, sleep did not just tip toe in. My berth was in the compartment's social neighborhood of smoke breaks, morning throat clearings, ladies with their with toothpasted-toothbrushes, chattering bathroom queues and, intermittently, the chai/coffee wallahs. The stations themselves - save for the vendors who boarded at them - were quiet in the morning, only birdsong.
And so we came into Sealdah.
C
Sunday, February 20, 2005
Saturday, February 19, 2005
Tomorrow, Lachung
And today, again, it's gangtok
But the cafe is new and since there's no electricity (I'm on generator? - not clear) there's no music either, nor are there people and i just discovered there's also no coffee. Electricity in Gangtok seems a touch and go thing, best not to be depended on.
Plans are coming together - pow wow with little Hope and husband Yepla (sp?) on the roof terrace of their Maruti jeep dealership yesterday sorted it out - it's north I go, tomorrow. Hope's office has a view out over the valley and the day, like day before and today, utterly clear. In fact, since I started carrying the white silk scarf (khada) that the Rimpoche in Yuksom blessed, the weather's gotten better by the day. Karmic coincidence or global weather pattern?
Today was a local monastery tour with a little van to myself and the sky ever clear. Once you descend from Gangtok (driver in save-petrol mode so we actually coasted down) you pass briefly across the valley floor and then climb again. And looking back towards the (not pretty) city you see...the range itself. Almost becoming common place to have the crazy Himalayan snow tops as backdrop to the day.
So can check off Rumtek and another monastery one I can't pronounce or find mention of in my guidebook. Me and the Bengali tourists were out today. I photographed the monks and a giddy posse of Indian teen girls took turns photographing me in their midst.
Rumtek - which has been the scene of controversy and gunfire for the past few years - a dispute between the Tibetans and the Bhutanese, each claiming there's is the true Karmapa. Passport required to enter, barbed wire ringing the complex and Indian military posted everywhere - and a metal detector as you pass into the main area. Creepy - saps the peace & ruffles the zen. That and the first monk I sighted was clipping his toenails. You just want a little decorum - recommend not visiting during their mid-day break. They were - to the shuttebag westerner - most un-monastic.
Neither monastery has the magic of the ones in the west. Both can be approached by road and I now realize that I had those other, more remote ghumpas, to myself. Lucky.
Plan is HATCHED for next stretch. Tomorrow go by hired jeep to Lachung in the north - the "Switzerland of the East" as it's billed. Next day some trekking around Yumthang, dip in a hot spring, Lachung again for the night then back here and onto Darjeeling the next day, and Kathmandu the one after that (Feb. 25). The trip north's costing more than i've spend in country to date but photos of the area look amazing so pretty sure the Rs.6,600 is worth it.
Assume there'll be no internet up there so silence and blog-peace for a few days.
Also - photos up so far all from past trips (sorry, sorta cheating) as haven't gotten my latest online yet. To be worked on.
Please send comments or queries if you're reading - dig out those Sikkim question.
Love to all,
c
But the cafe is new and since there's no electricity (I'm on generator? - not clear) there's no music either, nor are there people and i just discovered there's also no coffee. Electricity in Gangtok seems a touch and go thing, best not to be depended on.
Plans are coming together - pow wow with little Hope and husband Yepla (sp?) on the roof terrace of their Maruti jeep dealership yesterday sorted it out - it's north I go, tomorrow. Hope's office has a view out over the valley and the day, like day before and today, utterly clear. In fact, since I started carrying the white silk scarf (khada) that the Rimpoche in Yuksom blessed, the weather's gotten better by the day. Karmic coincidence or global weather pattern?
Today was a local monastery tour with a little van to myself and the sky ever clear. Once you descend from Gangtok (driver in save-petrol mode so we actually coasted down) you pass briefly across the valley floor and then climb again. And looking back towards the (not pretty) city you see...the range itself. Almost becoming common place to have the crazy Himalayan snow tops as backdrop to the day.
So can check off Rumtek and another monastery one I can't pronounce or find mention of in my guidebook. Me and the Bengali tourists were out today. I photographed the monks and a giddy posse of Indian teen girls took turns photographing me in their midst.
Rumtek - which has been the scene of controversy and gunfire for the past few years - a dispute between the Tibetans and the Bhutanese, each claiming there's is the true Karmapa. Passport required to enter, barbed wire ringing the complex and Indian military posted everywhere - and a metal detector as you pass into the main area. Creepy - saps the peace & ruffles the zen. That and the first monk I sighted was clipping his toenails. You just want a little decorum - recommend not visiting during their mid-day break. They were - to the shuttebag westerner - most un-monastic.
Neither monastery has the magic of the ones in the west. Both can be approached by road and I now realize that I had those other, more remote ghumpas, to myself. Lucky.
Plan is HATCHED for next stretch. Tomorrow go by hired jeep to Lachung in the north - the "Switzerland of the East" as it's billed. Next day some trekking around Yumthang, dip in a hot spring, Lachung again for the night then back here and onto Darjeeling the next day, and Kathmandu the one after that (Feb. 25). The trip north's costing more than i've spend in country to date but photos of the area look amazing so pretty sure the Rs.6,600 is worth it.
Assume there'll be no internet up there so silence and blog-peace for a few days.
Also - photos up so far all from past trips (sorry, sorta cheating) as haven't gotten my latest online yet. To be worked on.
Please send comments or queries if you're reading - dig out those Sikkim question.
Love to all,
c
Friday, February 18, 2005
Thursday, February 17, 2005
Morning internet raga, again
Gangtok, Sikkim
Same cafe, same om sari namuna ma, jai jai sari namuna nama and stifling incense. Must be working its raga magic, I keep coming back.
Of course these words mean something but in a blissful haze of not knowing the language itself can be its own mood.
Downgraded from the swank (Sikkim-swank = one step and a hot water bottle down from Darjeeling swank, which in turn is...) Tashi Delek Hotel to the ambitiously named Potala Hotel. It's no Potala (for the Potala's sake) but they're attentive, I get BBC and Star World (Outback Joe last night), hot water and a toilet that mostly flushes. Washed unmentionables and a shirt in a bucket. Two bucket dumps to clear the water.
The manager visited shortly check in. I'd written Traveler under "Occupation" in the sign-in book (the Indians signed in above me had written "Office Worker") and management had leaped to assume that I meant travel writer. I let it lie but asked that he "do nothing special for me".
Lonely Planet all powerful in this country. They can make a place. Their longest Gangtok listing in "Places to Stay-Budget" - the Modern Central Lodge - is chock-a-block with every LP toting tourist. Identical hotels on the same block sit mostly empty. A cycle of course, backpackers feel comfy with other packers - and so you adhere to the LP logic that when "popular" is used in a description, your kind will flock.
I flocked too but the top of the line room($3.50) had a shared bath, no tv. Am neither fish nor fowl to the epic travelers on budgets of $10 a day or those who book the Tashi delek ($50+) without a thought. Like my luggage - straddling the two worlds with a rolling suitcase in hand and pack on my back.
Today is the day to figure out future days. Change Khatmandu ticket, look into treks. And first, to have a coffee and true breakfast, not just biscuits.
Love to all
C
Same cafe, same om sari namuna ma, jai jai sari namuna nama and stifling incense. Must be working its raga magic, I keep coming back.
Of course these words mean something but in a blissful haze of not knowing the language itself can be its own mood.
Downgraded from the swank (Sikkim-swank = one step and a hot water bottle down from Darjeeling swank, which in turn is...) Tashi Delek Hotel to the ambitiously named Potala Hotel. It's no Potala (for the Potala's sake) but they're attentive, I get BBC and Star World (Outback Joe last night), hot water and a toilet that mostly flushes. Washed unmentionables and a shirt in a bucket. Two bucket dumps to clear the water.
The manager visited shortly check in. I'd written Traveler under "Occupation" in the sign-in book (the Indians signed in above me had written "Office Worker") and management had leaped to assume that I meant travel writer. I let it lie but asked that he "do nothing special for me".
Lonely Planet all powerful in this country. They can make a place. Their longest Gangtok listing in "Places to Stay-Budget" - the Modern Central Lodge - is chock-a-block with every LP toting tourist. Identical hotels on the same block sit mostly empty. A cycle of course, backpackers feel comfy with other packers - and so you adhere to the LP logic that when "popular" is used in a description, your kind will flock.
I flocked too but the top of the line room($3.50) had a shared bath, no tv. Am neither fish nor fowl to the epic travelers on budgets of $10 a day or those who book the Tashi delek ($50+) without a thought. Like my luggage - straddling the two worlds with a rolling suitcase in hand and pack on my back.
Today is the day to figure out future days. Change Khatmandu ticket, look into treks. And first, to have a coffee and true breakfast, not just biscuits.
Love to all
C
Immortal Snows
chortens, pass to Yumthang
They now profess Buddhism and are generally very devotional,
although they worshipped the spirits of the mountains, rivers and forests,
a natural outcome of their surroundings...
everything would tend to foster such beliefs
in a country where the mighty snows appear immortal,
the raging torrents irresistible...
and where even the melencholy cry of the bird
is pitched in a minor key,
all must encourage such beliefs
and leave a deep impression on the character
of the people who live amidst it.
J. Claude White,
Sikkim and Bhutan: Twenty-One Years on the North-East Fronteir 1887-1908
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
Sikkimese archers
Gangtok, Sikkim (again)
Nice but hard on posting that there are still parts of the world without internet cafes. Or, with internet cafes (2 of the towns) but with no actual internet, or just not for the last four days they insisted.
Feels like all movement since last Friday's morning departure - for the police picnic by the Teesta. The picnic an orgy of huge cauldrons of food, whisky and beers that kept being topped off. All of a sudden we'd killed 6 hours by the river (ended in dancing and songs) and everyone stumbled about trying to identify drivers within identical police Gypsy jeeps. Blue police lights a-flashing (the officers drunk and so keen to impress authority on the tiny houses passed) we made off in a jagged line on the hairy one lane roads - splitting with the gourp when they headed north to gangtok, we south to Jorethang.
One flat tire en route and a case of Sikkimese Dansberg beer in the back. Felt like college (not mine but what I imagine) except there was a princess sitting next to me, and we were passing the beer up to a high-up police guy in the backseat, and we were in Sikkim.
Amazingly arrived at Jorethang mostly okay, picked at some chicken curry, had another beer (for the night) and crashed in what I think were police barrack rooms for the night.
Jorethang a trading border town, as unpretty as a place can be while still being located smack in the Himalayan foothills. "More Indian" said Little Hope, "than the rest of Sikkim". And Kelly - Little Hope's son, kept asking when we'd "return to Sikkim". I wondered the same into our second day.
There for the 6th Annual Ministers Gold Cup Archery tournament, which LH's husband was chairman of (for?) and a competitor in. Took place in a dusty central field, with sandbags shaped into a platform and arrow-stopping backboards at both ends and a tin-sided Canteen, just behind the army parachute viewing pavilion, on the long side. The men (in 18 teams and a round-robin scheme) took turns shooting arrows - amazingly (and to my eye, not visibly) from one end of the 100+ meter field to a tiny target on the other. There was a somewhat confusing scoring plan, a lot of whooping and since you had to either stand at the shooters end, stand at the shot- at end, or stand in the middle and see little of the arrow's arc - there was not too much action really.
Photographed dutifully though, squatted and tried all sides to look like a pro, but photos pretty dull. Some of the men in the traditional Sikkimese "Kho" dress but most had the arms of the top tied around their waste, sneakers and jeans. We always long for the ethnic...this was not the place.
Hope and I with kids retired to the canteen for beers, then to a friends house for a rest and National Geographic channel (have now seen Secrets of the Inca Mummies twice), then to a restaurant for more food and beers, then back to the friends house...A day of waiting, killing time and beers. Not my best day in Sikkim, and felt like a wasted one but for the fact I can tell of an archery tournament.
Sikkimese Archery:
- A traditional sport. Competitions taking place in the farmer's fallow times - between harvest and next planting - when the fields are bare for the match.
- A friendly rivalry between small towns - accompanied by drink (chung - a millet, sake-like drink - more on this to come) and lots of food.
- Traditionally bent bamboo bows and arrows - the latter tipped in a rough iron point fashioned by village blacksmith.
- Cure for an arrow wound: heat end of offending arrow and soughter wound shut.
There's a lot more to report where this came from but must figure out lodging for tonight and map the next few days. Up in the air whether I'll stay with itinerary and soon be off to Nepal and move around dates and try to trek up north.
Stay tuned.
All best to devoted readers, if you're still there.
C
Nice but hard on posting that there are still parts of the world without internet cafes. Or, with internet cafes (2 of the towns) but with no actual internet, or just not for the last four days they insisted.
Feels like all movement since last Friday's morning departure - for the police picnic by the Teesta. The picnic an orgy of huge cauldrons of food, whisky and beers that kept being topped off. All of a sudden we'd killed 6 hours by the river (ended in dancing and songs) and everyone stumbled about trying to identify drivers within identical police Gypsy jeeps. Blue police lights a-flashing (the officers drunk and so keen to impress authority on the tiny houses passed) we made off in a jagged line on the hairy one lane roads - splitting with the gourp when they headed north to gangtok, we south to Jorethang.
One flat tire en route and a case of Sikkimese Dansberg beer in the back. Felt like college (not mine but what I imagine) except there was a princess sitting next to me, and we were passing the beer up to a high-up police guy in the backseat, and we were in Sikkim.
Amazingly arrived at Jorethang mostly okay, picked at some chicken curry, had another beer (for the night) and crashed in what I think were police barrack rooms for the night.
Jorethang a trading border town, as unpretty as a place can be while still being located smack in the Himalayan foothills. "More Indian" said Little Hope, "than the rest of Sikkim". And Kelly - Little Hope's son, kept asking when we'd "return to Sikkim". I wondered the same into our second day.
There for the 6th Annual Ministers Gold Cup Archery tournament, which LH's husband was chairman of (for?) and a competitor in. Took place in a dusty central field, with sandbags shaped into a platform and arrow-stopping backboards at both ends and a tin-sided Canteen, just behind the army parachute viewing pavilion, on the long side. The men (in 18 teams and a round-robin scheme) took turns shooting arrows - amazingly (and to my eye, not visibly) from one end of the 100+ meter field to a tiny target on the other. There was a somewhat confusing scoring plan, a lot of whooping and since you had to either stand at the shooters end, stand at the shot- at end, or stand in the middle and see little of the arrow's arc - there was not too much action really.
Photographed dutifully though, squatted and tried all sides to look like a pro, but photos pretty dull. Some of the men in the traditional Sikkimese "Kho" dress but most had the arms of the top tied around their waste, sneakers and jeans. We always long for the ethnic...this was not the place.
Hope and I with kids retired to the canteen for beers, then to a friends house for a rest and National Geographic channel (have now seen Secrets of the Inca Mummies twice), then to a restaurant for more food and beers, then back to the friends house...A day of waiting, killing time and beers. Not my best day in Sikkim, and felt like a wasted one but for the fact I can tell of an archery tournament.
Sikkimese Archery:
- A traditional sport. Competitions taking place in the farmer's fallow times - between harvest and next planting - when the fields are bare for the match.
- A friendly rivalry between small towns - accompanied by drink (chung - a millet, sake-like drink - more on this to come) and lots of food.
- Traditionally bent bamboo bows and arrows - the latter tipped in a rough iron point fashioned by village blacksmith.
- Cure for an arrow wound: heat end of offending arrow and soughter wound shut.
There's a lot more to report where this came from but must figure out lodging for tonight and map the next few days. Up in the air whether I'll stay with itinerary and soon be off to Nepal and move around dates and try to trek up north.
Stay tuned.
All best to devoted readers, if you're still there.
C
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
Saturday, February 12, 2005
The world like home
"One never reaches home...
But where paths that have an affinity for each other intersect
the whole world looks like home,
for a time."
Hesse, Damien
Friday, February 11, 2005
Thursday, February 10, 2005
Hills reached : Darjeeling is cold
Possibly my room could be colder, but then I would cry. I love the Main Old Belleview and will be everloyal, but christ does it need a makeover that includes insulation, central heating, lined curtains and quilts that have been dried and aired since the last monsoon. Reached late this afternoon, went for a (strong) beer at Glenary's with Ali (Aussie girl here to work with Mercy Corp met in Calcutta) and then we retired to our rooms for a rest.
Rather, a corpse pose beneath the doubled damp quilts - kept the tv onto the one channel coming in - UK vs. Pakistan cricket - so there'd be another form of warmth being given off in the room and dozed.
Now, not revived but very much layered, in the Belleview (from their literature: "Not to be confused with the Main Old Belleview" - but literally steps away) doing emails. They've kept their door propped open. Donning mittens and dopey condom hat and heading down the hill go to Joey's - the Gurkha pub - for a beer to warm.
More from a hopefully warmer me tomorrow.
Love to all on Losar, out with the year of the monkey and in with the year of the bird (and wood?)
C
Rather, a corpse pose beneath the doubled damp quilts - kept the tv onto the one channel coming in - UK vs. Pakistan cricket - so there'd be another form of warmth being given off in the room and dozed.
Now, not revived but very much layered, in the Belleview (from their literature: "Not to be confused with the Main Old Belleview" - but literally steps away) doing emails. They've kept their door propped open. Donning mittens and dopey condom hat and heading down the hill go to Joey's - the Gurkha pub - for a beer to warm.
More from a hopefully warmer me tomorrow.
Love to all on Losar, out with the year of the monkey and in with the year of the bird (and wood?)
C
Chilled
DARJEELING
Brown toast, Darjeeling still socked-in (soqued? sock-ed?) despite a night sky that boded better things and I'm soon off to Sikkim. Can only clear as I descend down through the tea into the valley, the riverbed of the Teesta and then spiral up again to Gangtok.
Further proof that this place is cold and ever-damp. The puddle from yesterday's shower remains, unchanged on my bathroom floor this morning. Yesterday's towel remains cold damp and my washcloth needed a ziploc to pack amongst other things.
Now do you believe? And during the monsoon I imagine what's wet stays wet for the duration.
Spoke to little Hope in gangtok (Hope Cooke's daughter) yesterday and all is set for my arrival. She's arranged to have my Sikkim permit waiting in Rongpo (the border) so should be a smooth trip up. And she's booked me into the fanciest hotel in town. Just one night- will air and dry and shave and clean and then go back to chillier quarters I think. And then begin to trek...
Had an amazing day here yesterday- walks out to the viewing points, up and around past the Governor's House, down past the market, toured through the Windermere Hotel and admired the framed bar chits of famous guests, black and white photos and hissing coal fires. Lots of photos with new camera (which is fun and makes a lovely professional click-shhhh noise, and is fast) and picked up 4 books at the Oxford Bookstore. One written, I think, by the Indian rep to Gangtok who Hope depicts in an iffy-light in Time Change. He (Mr. Das) also mentions Hope, critically but somewhat benevolently in his book. Also a Tagore, a basic Buddhism book and another dry Brit traveler's tales from the thirties- his trip via darjeeling up to Tibet- with no one's express permission. Must study up on Buddhism once and for all - been casting about in vagueness and tumbled terms and have to nail the positions of Buddha's hands.
Okay - need to get my ride and start the next leg. Pictures soon- they're being amassed but not yet transferred.
Love to all,
C
Brown toast, Darjeeling still socked-in (soqued? sock-ed?) despite a night sky that boded better things and I'm soon off to Sikkim. Can only clear as I descend down through the tea into the valley, the riverbed of the Teesta and then spiral up again to Gangtok.
Further proof that this place is cold and ever-damp. The puddle from yesterday's shower remains, unchanged on my bathroom floor this morning. Yesterday's towel remains cold damp and my washcloth needed a ziploc to pack amongst other things.
Now do you believe? And during the monsoon I imagine what's wet stays wet for the duration.
Spoke to little Hope in gangtok (Hope Cooke's daughter) yesterday and all is set for my arrival. She's arranged to have my Sikkim permit waiting in Rongpo (the border) so should be a smooth trip up. And she's booked me into the fanciest hotel in town. Just one night- will air and dry and shave and clean and then go back to chillier quarters I think. And then begin to trek...
Had an amazing day here yesterday- walks out to the viewing points, up and around past the Governor's House, down past the market, toured through the Windermere Hotel and admired the framed bar chits of famous guests, black and white photos and hissing coal fires. Lots of photos with new camera (which is fun and makes a lovely professional click-shhhh noise, and is fast) and picked up 4 books at the Oxford Bookstore. One written, I think, by the Indian rep to Gangtok who Hope depicts in an iffy-light in Time Change. He (Mr. Das) also mentions Hope, critically but somewhat benevolently in his book. Also a Tagore, a basic Buddhism book and another dry Brit traveler's tales from the thirties- his trip via darjeeling up to Tibet- with no one's express permission. Must study up on Buddhism once and for all - been casting about in vagueness and tumbled terms and have to nail the positions of Buddha's hands.
Okay - need to get my ride and start the next leg. Pictures soon- they're being amassed but not yet transferred.
Love to all,
C
Tourism and Food, Gangtok, Sikkim
A state-run tourist bureau with a smattering of literature, a restaurant with a smattering of menu items - in one central location
Gangtok by jeep
MG Marg, Gangtok - Sikkim
Suffocating in a haze of incense and - om sari namunama, jai jai sari namuna namuna (man's voice) - om sari namunama, jai jai sari namuna namun (response by women's chorus) - sitar - flute - repeat.
Almost Valentine's in Gangtok. Could be in any Halmark-touched town: shop windows in hearts and cupids, but here stealing the visual thunder of paan stands and the chicken vendor.
Arrived Gangtok yesterday afternoon - five jolty hours coming via the sole one means of reaching this hill bound capital: jeep. My size, singleness and retiring demeanor placed me at the way back beside a tiny (also meek) Nepalese fellow. Two large Aussies with matching rat's tail braids had the entire middle seat (I believe they paid extra) and then three more beside driver in the front. We added /lost 10-12 more en route.
The ride - dramatically up and south from Darjeeling – backtracks to Ghoom (2nd highest hill station in the world), and then descends in sharp swoops to the Teesta, cross, and begins the climb. Stopped at the border station of Rangpo for Sikkim permit - much easier than the previous hassle of getting in Darjeeling with stamps and carbons.
Weathered the ride but queasy. Others didn't fare well. Nepali seat mate spent half of ride with head out the back window and other half with hankie clenched to his mouth and a look of grim expectancy. When the little that was in him had gone, he sent long strands of phlegm aloft behind us which our driver stopped to wipe off. Nothing of the incident - the sounds, the residue - was mentioned. We maintained a collective, detached, silence.
Drive spectacular - even muffled in clouds. Particularly gorgeous for kms 17 - 12 before the Teesta and then 20 miles after the bridge. The road follows the river - still clean and vivid blue with snow water - and the valleys begin.
After Rangpo things go awry. India has pumped so much money into Sikkim (Gangtok's population has gone from 8,000 to 80,000 since in '75) that the once remote kingdom is now littered with cement. By the riverside: squat luxury apartment dwellings of 5 stories. On the right slope: still bamboo-sided and thatched huts.
It's unsettling. You wonder what development hell you've gotten into, if the valleys are morphing into a Himalayan Cancun. There's no visible effort to integrate the structures into the environment - they're flung along the valley like so many cement building blocks.
There's a stretch of visual peace before Gangtok's urban sprawl looms. Not a pretty city despite its setting, and with none of Darjeeling's charm. Whatever architecture is left from 30+ years back (when still a kingdom) has been dwarfed by new buildings vying for views. The city looks and feels much more Indian that Darjeeling - even though 75% of its population is Nepali and it's proximity to Nepal, Tibet and Bhutan would suggest otherwise.
Little Hope booked me a hotel closed for seasonal renovation Tashi Delek It was the luxury hotel bar none in the late '70's. It's now faded and garish - murals and red upholstery. But built into the hillside it does have layer upon layer of unobstructed views. When Blaine Trump, Sandy Pittman and Martha Stewart "came for a trek" in the late 90's, they turned their patrician noses up at the Tashi, but ultimately returned to stay.
Had a massive eat, debrief and vodka-7Up-soda glass after glass marathon with Little Hope and her husband. Learned more than my mind can yet make sense of – Sikkim not an simple topic, not sure where an article on it would start.
Tomorrow leave with Hope and family for a police picnic, then an archery tournament – flying blind.
Assume I'll report from the road but, if not, will check back in in a few days with stories.
Love to all from Gangtok.
C
Suffocating in a haze of incense and - om sari namunama, jai jai sari namuna namuna (man's voice) - om sari namunama, jai jai sari namuna namun (response by women's chorus) - sitar - flute - repeat.
Almost Valentine's in Gangtok. Could be in any Halmark-touched town: shop windows in hearts and cupids, but here stealing the visual thunder of paan stands and the chicken vendor.
Arrived Gangtok yesterday afternoon - five jolty hours coming via the sole one means of reaching this hill bound capital: jeep. My size, singleness and retiring demeanor placed me at the way back beside a tiny (also meek) Nepalese fellow. Two large Aussies with matching rat's tail braids had the entire middle seat (I believe they paid extra) and then three more beside driver in the front. We added /lost 10-12 more en route.
The ride - dramatically up and south from Darjeeling – backtracks to Ghoom (2nd highest hill station in the world), and then descends in sharp swoops to the Teesta, cross, and begins the climb. Stopped at the border station of Rangpo for Sikkim permit - much easier than the previous hassle of getting in Darjeeling with stamps and carbons.
Weathered the ride but queasy. Others didn't fare well. Nepali seat mate spent half of ride with head out the back window and other half with hankie clenched to his mouth and a look of grim expectancy. When the little that was in him had gone, he sent long strands of phlegm aloft behind us which our driver stopped to wipe off. Nothing of the incident - the sounds, the residue - was mentioned. We maintained a collective, detached, silence.
Drive spectacular - even muffled in clouds. Particularly gorgeous for kms 17 - 12 before the Teesta and then 20 miles after the bridge. The road follows the river - still clean and vivid blue with snow water - and the valleys begin.
After Rangpo things go awry. India has pumped so much money into Sikkim (Gangtok's population has gone from 8,000 to 80,000 since in '75) that the once remote kingdom is now littered with cement. By the riverside: squat luxury apartment dwellings of 5 stories. On the right slope: still bamboo-sided and thatched huts.
It's unsettling. You wonder what development hell you've gotten into, if the valleys are morphing into a Himalayan Cancun. There's no visible effort to integrate the structures into the environment - they're flung along the valley like so many cement building blocks.
There's a stretch of visual peace before Gangtok's urban sprawl looms. Not a pretty city despite its setting, and with none of Darjeeling's charm. Whatever architecture is left from 30+ years back (when still a kingdom) has been dwarfed by new buildings vying for views. The city looks and feels much more Indian that Darjeeling - even though 75% of its population is Nepali and it's proximity to Nepal, Tibet and Bhutan would suggest otherwise.
Little Hope booked me a hotel closed for seasonal renovation Tashi Delek It was the luxury hotel bar none in the late '70's. It's now faded and garish - murals and red upholstery. But built into the hillside it does have layer upon layer of unobstructed views. When Blaine Trump, Sandy Pittman and Martha Stewart "came for a trek" in the late 90's, they turned their patrician noses up at the Tashi, but ultimately returned to stay.
Had a massive eat, debrief and vodka-7Up-soda glass after glass marathon with Little Hope and her husband. Learned more than my mind can yet make sense of – Sikkim not an simple topic, not sure where an article on it would start.
Tomorrow leave with Hope and family for a police picnic, then an archery tournament – flying blind.
Assume I'll report from the road but, if not, will check back in in a few days with stories.
Love to all from Gangtok.
C
Wednesday, February 9, 2005
Happy Losar 2/9
In DARJEELING, Glennary's downstairs pastry area (CRASH by DM playing and clouds, which were dense fog earlier, starting to lift. It's cozy in here, the coffee’s strong and I'm warming.)
Was grumpy and cold last night, sorry if the post reflected chilled fingers and grim anticipation of a chilly night neath musty covers.
Woke within the hot water window this morning so had a shower. Steamed up the room, all the mirrors and even the windows along the veranda - two rooms separated. Let the run off fall into the plastic bucket - suds and all - in case there's nothing with warmth later, can at least wash hands it what was once.
Not great fun emerging from the water into the see-your-breath air of the bedroom in a thin towel, but all well now with a few layers on, scarf roped around neck (still smelling like perfume, nice reminder of home) and coffee and porridge now in me. The cold outside it only a few degrees change from the room temp so now just fine.
To report - only change at the Main Olde Belleview is the Newfoundland-like couple (actually a Tibetan breed) who reside at the top of the stairs all day and, moved into a cement enclosure around 6 in the eve, bark thought the night, have had a litter of 6 puppies. Recently I think. Had assumed they were brother and sister - and they may well be - but they've mated now and the puppies look just fine so there you are. They're very cute, mom's protective, and if it were no small matter bringing one of the litter to New York...
Had a short and quiet night last night. Ali and I went for a hot toddy at Joey's (only pub in town, run by Ghurka Joey with pension money from the Brits), shared a jaffle and feeling sort of spacy/whoozy called it a very small night and went to burrow. I bedded down in two upper layers of long underwear, pajama bottoms, socks and warmed my space beneath the blankets with breath. Fell asleep easily, dreaming of Sikkim.
News from the world seems good. Nepal's Royal coup is softening at the edges - internet restored and heard from Nina in Kathmandu. She reports that life for the non-politico, non-NGO circles has remained relatively normal for the last 6 days - albeit with little info of perceptions outside the valley. She also assures that trekking routes should be unaffected. Good news - will keep plans to go there in two weeks.
Also, from The Statesman newspaper (Calcutta), the North Bengal and Sikkim supplement report:
No Action to be Taken Against Professor in Siliguri - "The police are still hesitant to take action against Mr. Joylal Ray, Secretary of Jote Junior High School, for whose alleged lengthy pep talk on morals and discipline at least 20 students of the school, including 8 girls, fell ill."
No mention of length of the talk.
50th Anniversary of the Summit of Kanchenjunga - celebrated at the Indian Museum in Calcutta.
Asked about the summitting in May, 1955, (the team stopped 5 feet short of the top – retaining its “viginity” in respect of the mountain’s holiness, maintained by the lamas of Sikkim), Norman Hardie said: "What made our work easy was the absence of television cameras and sponsorships".
North Bengal Wild Elephant Census in April
The census - to update numbers last taken in 2002 (a count of 292) will be collected by 306 census teams, 1,200 forest personnel, 11 NGO's and "Fifty captive elephants will also be mobilized for the census."
"Silk farmers in Masimpur accuse a contingent of local villagers of stealing mulberry leaves each night to feed cattle."
Still no word from my contact in Gangtok so may spend one more night here and head to Gangtok early tomorrow morning (via Rongpo to get my permit). Or may motivate and get myself there today. Stay tuned.
Love to all from D,
C
Tuesday, February 8, 2005
Monday, February 7, 2005
Sudder Street, Calcutta
My last cafe check-in was ACed in Bangkok and now I'm on Sudder Street, at the top of a narrow spiral staircase in what really doesn't qualify as a second floor . Wedged to my left is a mother daughter team scanning "Hindi matrimonials" (.com? .org?) a suitable boy - stand-off on PhD/income vs. Bollywood looks.
Arrived last night.
Another complete re-immersion in India, this time a little easier coming into a city I knew, even if that city is the unknowable, and sometimes unthinkable, Calcutta.
It's a hassle extricating from the airport: the inevitability of lining up twice - first for for rupees then the pre-paid taxi, to be brusquely done with customs (one Johnnie Walker Red over the 2 scotch limit) then bang into a group of Japanese boys exhibiting no group think at all - one by one changing yen to rupees. The arrival hall has one money changer and he prepares carbons for each hand writ receipt and recounts each rupee stack in the rupee counting machine. The Japanese are not anxious (nor do they decide to pool funds), so I reorganize my wallet and investigate my visa stamps and shake out into India time.
Outside the airport door and India begins: the clamor for my pre-paid taxi chit, and the clustering of men with opinions. Calcutta is tidier than I remembered - fewer carrion hawks and tempered sense of imminent collapse.
Almost too easy to check-in at the Fairlawn - I've foregone the arrival battle and the grim-settling in of a lower-budget hotel. That said, I am given an airless, windowless chamber behind a curtain off the main dining room. That it's soaring and large does not make it seem like a bargain at $60 a night. On either side are also single women . I think we're been assembled for easy observation - that we don't get up to unseemly, single-foreign-women behavior... Fairlawn requires full board so the dining room is active. It's hard to feel private, or watch the BBC at any audible level, when I can hear the rattle of tea cups.
The Fairlawn's website trumpeted modernizations. I haven't seen any but don't mind so much - there's comfort in the hotel's cluttered sameness, the royal portraits clipped and pasted onto board and framed, plastic plants and the entry garlanded by plastic vines hung with peaches, pears and grapes. The downstairs is a shimmering kelly green and the upstairs done in browns. The stairwell is layered in celebrity guest shots: Merchant and Ivory et al. The Fairlawn family appears to hold out hope that if they can just keep the Fairlawn as it is, serve meals on time and make friends of each guest, then history might just be stopped for a few decades more. Emerging from the polka-dotted stucco walls of the hotel, out from under the man made greenery, into the tumult of Sudder Street is a disconnect. Surely there was a time when you could step out and into a carriage, swing round to the Governor's House rather than - uninvited - hoofing it around the corner to wait in line for the museum.
Now must go for a nap.
C amidst an era past
Saturday, February 5, 2005
Silom Road, Bangkok
Bangkok, Silom - back on the road
Now can write in earnest. Doesn't feel like much of a travel blog when the "from a cafe" is an upper west side Starbucks, or my living room. Even this cafe - World Cafe in Bangkok - is not precisely Thai (a chain) but I imagine my settings spiral down soon enough and so won't begrudge a last go at emails with milk coffee, AC and cinnamon buns.
Arrived at 1am last night not having booked a hotel so spent another mess of minutes finding a place on Silom for around $50. Found Tower Inn Hotel - popular with western men who were up and milling around the front desk when I arrived. (We are an easy walk to Pathpong.)
The westerners in the city seem on edge this weekend and found out the cause by eavesdropping this morning: elections are going on and for the sake of voter clarity, no alcohol is being sold. India did the same thing I recall - I recall resenting democracy there too. If US adopted the same measures? More blue states had we been sober? the opposite?
"Bloody dry Bangkok, mate," said the Aussie who seems unaccustomed to 9AM, "can you believe it, bloody dry."
Very few signs or mentions of the tsunami - I'd thought it might be more NYC post 9/11. There's a poster with a photo of the king's son as you come off the expressway to Silom that seems tsunami-linked and a CARE donation box at the cash register in 7/11. Otherwise, zip.
I'll be in Calcutta this afternoon and so begin the India portion of the journey.
Missing R (sipping ginger tea and watching Killing Fields on his couch) and friends.
Love from Bangkok,
C
Now can write in earnest. Doesn't feel like much of a travel blog when the "from a cafe" is an upper west side Starbucks, or my living room. Even this cafe - World Cafe in Bangkok - is not precisely Thai (a chain) but I imagine my settings spiral down soon enough and so won't begrudge a last go at emails with milk coffee, AC and cinnamon buns.
Arrived at 1am last night not having booked a hotel so spent another mess of minutes finding a place on Silom for around $50. Found Tower Inn Hotel - popular with western men who were up and milling around the front desk when I arrived. (We are an easy walk to Pathpong.)
The westerners in the city seem on edge this weekend and found out the cause by eavesdropping this morning: elections are going on and for the sake of voter clarity, no alcohol is being sold. India did the same thing I recall - I recall resenting democracy there too. If US adopted the same measures? More blue states had we been sober? the opposite?
"Bloody dry Bangkok, mate," said the Aussie who seems unaccustomed to 9AM, "can you believe it, bloody dry."
Very few signs or mentions of the tsunami - I'd thought it might be more NYC post 9/11. There's a poster with a photo of the king's son as you come off the expressway to Silom that seems tsunami-linked and a CARE donation box at the cash register in 7/11. Otherwise, zip.
I'll be in Calcutta this afternoon and so begin the India portion of the journey.
Missing R (sipping ginger tea and watching Killing Fields on his couch) and friends.
Love from Bangkok,
C
Tuesday, February 1, 2005
Visa for Nepal
And now I have my Nepal visa. The timing for my trip may be the worst possible in the beleaguered country's 10 years of not ideal travel times.
Since 2001 there's been unrest, and Nepal's tourism has spiraled, but today it hit a new low with NPR reporting: "Nepal's King Gyanendra sacked the government, declared a state of emergency and assumed power on Tuesday, saying the leadership had failed to hold polls or restore peace amid an escalating civil war with Maoist rebels."
India is worried and sending a “strongly worded” document to the King that his drastic move would further antagonism between royalty, the political parties on one side -- Maoists on the other. In London, the Nepalese Ambassador was summoned so Brits could “convey their concern.” International flights into Kathmandu are being rerouted.
The friendly front desk security at 820 Second Ave was worried when he saw my sign in. No one else had signed-in for “Nepal, Floor 17” on the the page. Plenty of Liberias, a smattering for Peru but the threadbare office of Nepal's Mission to the UN was empty. A younger version of yesterday's man behind the counter acknowledged that things were not at their best in his homeland and with sad head wiggles murmured that "politics is silly business." He would commit neither pro or anti my upcoming visit.
I have a Nepal Immigration Tourist Entry Visa (6 months), dated Feb 01 2005.
And I have no idea if it's either wise, or even feasible, to go there.
C - kathmandu-weighing
Since 2001 there's been unrest, and Nepal's tourism has spiraled, but today it hit a new low with NPR reporting: "Nepal's King Gyanendra sacked the government, declared a state of emergency and assumed power on Tuesday, saying the leadership had failed to hold polls or restore peace amid an escalating civil war with Maoist rebels."
India is worried and sending a “strongly worded” document to the King that his drastic move would further antagonism between royalty, the political parties on one side -- Maoists on the other. In London, the Nepalese Ambassador was summoned so Brits could “convey their concern.” International flights into Kathmandu are being rerouted.
The friendly front desk security at 820 Second Ave was worried when he saw my sign in. No one else had signed-in for “Nepal, Floor 17” on the the page. Plenty of Liberias, a smattering for Peru but the threadbare office of Nepal's Mission to the UN was empty. A younger version of yesterday's man behind the counter acknowledged that things were not at their best in his homeland and with sad head wiggles murmured that "politics is silly business." He would commit neither pro or anti my upcoming visit.
I have a Nepal Immigration Tourist Entry Visa (6 months), dated Feb 01 2005.
And I have no idea if it's either wise, or even feasible, to go there.
C - kathmandu-weighing
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