A Tourist in Darjeeling

3-4 April 2018

receiving blessings at Mahakal Temple

For the same reasons that the British came here in the days of the Raj, tourists from other parts of India are here in droves. The temperature is much more acceptable than down on the plains although when the sun shines, it is very hot and I appreciated my sunhat on one of my days’ excursions.

Navigating is becoming easier than I thought it would, its pretty much a case of up and down, and although the lanes zig zag and twist and turn, there are innumerable shortcuts – steps and steep paths that cut the corners – relatively easy to follow to get back up from going lower.

Mahakal Temple

The biggest hazard is total lack of footpaths and the narrowness of the streets – there is the constant tooting of horns as vehicles pass pedestrians, parked vehicles, each other and any other hazards, animate or otherwise. I am particularly amused by the calls for divine assistance on the vehicles – especially the bigger taxi vehicles; Buddhist mantras, Hindi prayers and messages assuring the love of Jesus abound, interspersed with the odd random message – sometimes they are mixed. A Hindi prayer message across the top of the windscreen with Bob Marley below was an interesting combination.

Many vehicles have some sort of religious paraphernalia on the dashboard; my driver from

Darjeeling

Darjeeling had both a statue of Ganeesh and Buddha. To be sure to be sure, maybe.

There is a main “mall” area, Chowrasta, – an open paved area almost free of traffic – with plenty of seating around the edge and an open air stage and a huge broad screen TV which I have seen playing nature videos and football – the latter evidently very popular and many vehicles sport the name of the international or British soccer supported and I resisted, with little difficulty, offers to sell me woven bracelets with the name of my preferred group of men in tight shorts chasing a ball.

Narwang Gombu Sherpa
The first man to climb Everest twice

On the edge of the stage are a couple of opportunities to dress up in traditional Darjeeling attire for photo opportunities. These opportunities are rather ubiquitous at any spot where tourists might stop.

Also, along the path/road from Chowrasta which circles observatory hill and Mahakal Temple is a line of temporary, blue-tarpaulin clad, stalls which alternately sell hats and scarves, mainly knitted in thick acrylic yarn, or shawls – perhaps pashmina or cashmere, or perhaps mainly not. I was avoiding that temptation!

I guess that observatory hill is named for its views, but it’s a bit hard to tell with the current level of air pollution. It is, however, a rather peaceful place, with plenty of trees (and a sign warning about the monkeys) and the temple is rather a delight. A large sign on its approach warned that persons who have consumed meat or alcohol should not approach; since I had done neither in recent times, I had no problems in approaching! Though I have no doubt that the same attention is paid to this sign as is paid to many other signs by Indian visitors. “No smoking”, “keep silence”, “move in a clockwise direction”, “do not tease the animals” appear, like any traffic rules, to be purely advisory.

official building - police ?

The temple is Hindi, circled with Buddhist prayer wheels and the whole area is criss crossed with prayer flags. I dutifully removed my shoes and approached the shrine and made appropriate (I think) obeisances and was rewarded with the Hindi red mark to my forehead delivered by a man who looked to me remarkably Tibetan and dressed in the maroon monks’ robes of a Buddhist monk.

Perhaps the whole world could benefit a little from more such integrations.

There is a very strong Tibetan component to the population, with some of the older Tibetan ladies keeping their traditional dress. I found most I encountered to have very cheerful, friendly smiling faces.

As well as the older Tibetan ladies, there are the Indian ladies in their colouful variations of sari or salwar kameez, Buddhist monks in their burgundy robes, young men with their hair dyed startling shades of blonde, which translates to orange in their black hair and the standard range of western clothing.

140 year old wisteria in Botanical Gardens

School students in their uniforms can be seen before and after school. The boys are attired in long trousers, shirt and tie and jumper, sometimes with a blazer. There are colour variations, but fairly muted. The girl’s uniforms are much more varied: there are some who are decorously attired in trousers with their shirt and tie and blazer, others with pleated skirts in varied colours – white being the most impractical – with jumpers and/or blazers.

There is one school that appears to have a seriously tailored jacket and short, narrow skirts – a private school for girls, my driver told me – and did I like the uniform? I remarked that it was a bit on the sexy side for a school uniform and despite his tenuous grasp of the English language he had no trouble with that remark! There is at least one school where the girls are wearing long skirts, with some complicated pleats at the front, which I am pretty sure mimics one of the traditional costumes.

A particularly imposing school building is St Josephs at North Point. When my driver told me it was a school I immediately and correctly surmised that it was private. From the limited number and gender of those in the grounds, I also correctly surmised that it is an all-boys school.

At Botanical Gardens

Another feature of Darjeeling were the numerous water trucks – both tankers and those transporting half a dozen or so smaller tanks. While some houses have piped water, either in the house or somewhere close, there are properties that have to buy water. No wonder the hot water cylinder in my hotel bathroom was so miniscule that it required serious organization of self to get through washing my short hair and washing the rest of me before the hot water ran cold.

I think I got through the first 24 hours in Darjeeling without featuring in the holiday selfies of any other tourists - I was a bit worried that a national pastime might have been waning, but I need not have worried.

The street food looks and smells very tempting, but some of it appears to be precooked and other served with cut up onion and tomato or other goodies, which are kept somewhat fly free in a perfunctory manner, so I resisted. I did, however, succumb to brazier-roasted maize from one lady who had a cob on the hot coals as I watched. I figured I would not go far wrong with that.

Cactus at Botanical Gardens

I tried a couple of local restaurants – sticking with vegetarian as a food hygiene approach – and had a couple of delicious meals – one particularly wonderful dish of vegetable kofta at a restaurant recommend by a local shopkeeper. The waitress advised me that the dish would be a bit spicy – was that OK – I’d have been a bit upset if it wasn’t!

The hotel breakfast is less exciting – after I eventually interpreted the offer on the first morning, and declined it – fries and burger for breakfast – Yuk! I got cornflakes, toast and omelet. On my last morning I requested no toast – I was asked if I wanted the Indian breakfast of parathas with potato, and declined. I would settle for fruit, cornflakes and boiled eggs washed down with fairly bad coffee. I got the Indian breakfast in addition…

I decided that riding the “toy train” was a must which here – and it should be the steam train – though I am not sure that does much to mitigate the level of air pollution…

Rhododendron

The hotel could organise me a ticket, which was good, because initially I had no idea how to find the train station, but that became a bit of a saga too. Yes, they would go and get the ticket for me when the office opened at 8. Or maybe they would go now – 8:30am… it seems that there is no ticket for the 10am train, so it will need to be the 4pm train. Ok, I will come back for it, but 2 hours later he still had not gone…. Eventually it happened.

The Botanical Gardens promised a nice couple of hours, and that was a bit of a saga getting there. I thought I was looking for a supermarket – but evidently not, just the market – to descend the hill below and wind down more improbably steep and narrow roads – avoiding the ever-tooting cars – there is no such thing as a footpath – being directed down sets of steps to eventually find a large, solid locked gate – but a ticket office with someone loitering not far away.

Carrying impossibly large loads

The area is quite expansive and peaceful, with lots of signs warning people not to sit on the grass. In some ways I imagine it to be a little like the Darjeeling the British came to a century and a half ago. Large pine trees dominate but many others are planted also, and I noted one huge liquid amber, reminiscent of the one that grew in my Launceston garden many years ago.

I wandered around the pond, noting that its concrete walls provided no means of escape for a couple of exhausted looking frogs, one of which was being nibbled by tadpoles in between perfunctory attempts to kick its legs.

The Himalayan Railway "Toy Train"

I also investigated the herb garden and can share my new knowledge that at least one species of oxalis has medicinal properties; there is hope for our lawns and gardens my friends!

The orchid house had a wide range, many of which were yet to flower, but there were some rather delightful blooms, as there were also in the general glasshouse which included some particularly attractive cyclamen. A gigantic, 150 year old wisteria twisted its way out of one glass house and across a large frame – just starting to bloom, I imagine it would be stunning in full flower.

Picking out the small pieces of coal

A conversation with a young man led to a subsequent exchange of a puzzling nature. After we had said goodbye and were headed on our ways, he called to me and then asked a question. I had to get him to repeat the word he was using several times, but it seemed to be “weed”. Whether he was asking me if I could give him a cigarette of whether I wished to buy or sell an alternative smoking substance I am unsure, but the answer to any of those options was negative.

The buildings are crowded in, with every available space utilized – this being most evident on some of the hairpin corners where one wonders what use such a space, narrowing to a point, might be within the building. Buildings vary from the very solid to serious shanties. The steepness of the hills requires many to have incredibly tall (3-4 stories high) foundation supports to provide even the smallest of floor space footprints.

Magnolia in bloom: nature triumphs!

Below and above the town, the forest is still there – attractive pine trees interspersed with some rhododendron and magnolia. It is a relief to see this, despite the rampant development, use of many banks as rubbish dumps and high levels of pollution. With the rhododendron and magnolia blooming, it almost seems a triumph of nature over mankind. Thank goodness.

The Himalayan narrow gauge railway is quite an amazing feat of engineering. The 2’ track ascends more than 2000m over its 80 plus km length, using zig zag and loops to manage parts of the ascent. Diesel engines operate most of the services but vintage steam locomotives that look remarkably like Thomas the Tank Engine, power a few services – including the daily tourist runs between Darjeeling and Ghum (the highest part of the railway).

Sunset from the "Toy Train"

It was the steam engine run that rather appealed to me. Though I suspect my participation in this activity may have contributed somewhat to global warming – I was warned to change my cream shirt for one of darker hue – and my black trousers were approved colour – given the amount of soot that was on my seat when I returned from one short break at a station, it was sound advice.

The train is referred to at the “toy train” and the carriages certainly have seat sizes to match. I don’t think I am a particularly larger person, but the seat was barely wide enough to accommodate me and the slightly portly Indian gentleman beside me definitely made the seating cosy. Fortunately, on the trip from Darjeeling to Ghum, there were spare seats and he moved into one of these.

The crowd awaiting sunrise on Tiger Hill

Unfortunately the return trip was packed, and included some Scandinavian teenagers whose approach to life was “all about me” and who tried to exceed the noise level provided by the train, all while receiving indulgent parental smiles.

The train track runs beside the road, sometimes on the road, sometimes crossing the road and creating even more chaos for the vehicular traffic. There were sufficient bends (of course) for photo opportunities out of the window, and many onlookers were spotted photographing the train – or taking selfies with the train behind. I think I have officially not enjoyed any of my holiday, I don’t have a single selfie.

Sunrise over the Himalayas from Tiger Hill: Underwhelming

The train stopped to take on water, and then stopped at the Batasia Loop for 10 minutes. I had not realized that this was one of the loops and just looked at the gardens and war memorial, but did register that, as we passed across a bridge, a diesel loco was passing below. The following day I had a chance to look at this more closely.

The Batasia loop area was, as was every place that tourists in numbers might be, littered with vendors of assorted goods and opportunities to dress up in local costume for a photo. I was most amused, however, by the men with binoculars, fairly large instruments mounted 2 sets on very solid looking stands. 30 rupees a look. I am not sure why anyone might have wanted to do this on that day – the hills were obscured by cloud and pollution. Yes, Kanchenjunga is out there. Somewhere. I purchased a postcard.

Batasia Loop on the Himalaya Railway

Ghum station houses a small museum which had some interesting photos, exhibits and information about the railway. It was well worth a short visit. A tweenage Indian boy who was clearly a train enthusiast, filled me in on a few bits of information about the Batasia loop as I was reading some of the information.

I was intrigued, as I returned to the train from Ghum railway museum, to see a lady squatting beside the train lines – in particular beside the pile of ash discarded from the steam engine. She was sorting through that still smoking heap, flicking out the small pieces of unburned coal, which she duly collected up and took away. Whether for resale or fuel for her home, who knows? I guess gleaning anything of value from what has been discarded is important in a country that has some people so poor!

Bhutia Monastery

I had decided that sunrise from Tiger Hill was a must-do, and was very tempted when rising at 3:30am to attempt the same noise level as my neighbouring Indian guests had the previous morning but I don’t think I am capable of that much noise – besides, I had noone to shout at. The hotel had told me 4am departure but the taxi driver had in mind 4:30am. Damn! That was an extra half hour in bed I might have had.

Orchids at the Bhutia Monastery

There was a stream of vehicles headed for Tiger Hill, most of them 4 wheel drives of the larger nature, packed to the gunnels with passengers – the share taxi concept being alive and well and the more people you can pack in the more money the driver earns, though I believe there is a regulated maximum number.

My driver attempted to overtake many of these, presumably with the intent of being able to find a closer parking place. In the end I did have to walk a few hundred metres up the road before turning to follow the crowd and scramble up a track to the view point.

Markhor

A few squillion people already occupied this space and I decided to join some who were perched on a half finished building – assisted up to a ledge by a gentleman offering a convenient hand and another warning me of a long iron projection that looked capable of either ripping my jacket to shreds or positively disemboweling the careless. I found a place and was soon joined by a young couple who stood directly in front of me – I did tap on the shoulder and point this out to them, which resulted in my view being restored.

Sad Snow Leopard

A few ladies in saris also climbed up and sat on the edge then a man wanted to come up and come past and the ladies were fairly resistant to moving – there was not much room to safely move. I hear the man use the word “compromise” a number of times, but for him I am pretty sure it meant, “do what I want!”

There was thick cloud in the direction that I presumed Kanchenjunga to be, along with the pollution haze, and I wondered if we would see anything. In due course, the sun did rise, and vaguely silhouetted a peak before disappearing into a thick cloud bank above. As sunrise over one of the world’s highest peak went, it was underwhelming.

Tenzin Norgay

I navigated my way through the crowd back down to where my driver was parked waiting to take me via Batasia Loop to the Bhutia monastery. The main temple is gorgeous, but as monks were at prayer and there was a curtain across the entrance, I did not go in. This did not deter a number of other male tourists though – but I have already remarked that signs do not impact much on them either!

A trip to the Japanese temple and peace pagoda was also included in my day tour and this was a rather lovely place, though I am not sure that the main place of worship is really a good place for an extended family group to be loudly organizing group photos.

Red Panda

I had said that I was not interested in a visit to the zoo – reviews accurately painted it as a rather depressing place with large animals caged in small enclosures with little opportunity to hide from noisy tourists. Enclosures were mainly bare. The only animal that had, what I considered to be adequate space and a reasonably pleasant environment for it was the Red Panda.

Dress Ups at the Tea Garden

The zoo did, however, include the Himalayan Institute – a museum covering the history of exploration of the Himalayas and a tribute to those who had both succeeded and failed in conquering peaks as well as those who had disappeared in the attempts. That was well worth a visit.

The natural history museum, also within the zoo grounds, was less inspiring. A large collection of stuffed animals and birds (I think the sign suggested that the collection housed around 80% of the known bird species) was actually quite depressing.

Tourists trying their (lack of) skills
on Tenzin Rock

A visit to a tea garden was a little underwhelming. Tea plantations cover many of the hills around Darjeeling and I have vaguely expected something similar to my Thai experience, with a centre with interpretation of the process, opportunities to sample, and obviously buy. No, the visit was just to an area of cultivation, to walk among the tea bushes, have the opportunity to play dress ups or buy souveniers, and return to the road, which was lined with 20 or so makeshift “shops” all selling identical and limited ranges of packet tea.

Scary roadside repairs

The peace pagoda

The day tour was to include a trip on the cable car, but since the operators had apparently not paid their taxes, this was not an option.

There was a short detour via Tenzin rock – reputedly the place where Sherpa Tenzin practiced his rock climbing skills.

school uniform

Azalea at Chunnu Summer Falls

The finale for the day was a visit to the “rock garden” at Chunnu Summer Falls. A long zig-zag descent on a road of incredible steepness and dubious quality from the town into the valley (and a much warmer climate) took us past more tea plantations – often with large clumps of lemongrass along the road edge – these are used for flavouring the tea.

Daisy at Chunnu Summer Falls

The rock garden is a rather delightful spot (supplemented, of course, by the makeshift stores etc) with a series of waterfalls surrounded by gardens, walkways, sitting areas and occupied by Indian tourists taking selfies or photos of their wives/girlfriends in front of various features. However, the paths take one further up the hill to more small waterfalls, and far fewer tourists.

The gardens were colourful with azaleas and other lovely plants, including some prolific white rock orchids.

The return journey included the particularly scary sight of mechanical repairs to vehicles performed on the roadside. Remembering that the road is barely wide enough for 2 vehicles, the sight of someone working on a vehicle parked along the edge – sometimes semi prostrate on the ground - did rather defy belief.

Chunnu Summer Falls

Another constant presence among everything else is those who are carrying improbably large loads – some are presumably quite light – judging from the printing on the boxes, but others are unwieldy – as in the case of some carrying large sheets of building materials – or very heavy – as in the case of one young man seen carrying 2 bags of cement.

magnolia

orchid

Chunnu Summer Falls

Chunnu Summer Falls

I had decided on my last evening in Darjeeling to visit the Planters’ Club. It took me all 3 days to actually locate it, and then a bit of to and fro to actually find the entrance – only to find that it was not only closed for renovations but the entire building, except for a separate lounge, had been gutted. So much for either the afternoon cup of tea or g&t in the faded but semi-salubrious surroundings of this establishment.