Time warp

We spent another full day, 11 hours, to get from our New Delhi hotel to the Windamere hotel in Darjeeling. We first flew to the capital of Assam, then to Bagdogra. Once more we had something draped around our neck, this time the cream colored scarves that the Nepalese give to travellers, for good luck.

From Bagdogra we wound our way to Darjeeling over poorly maintained roads from 500 feet to 7000 ft along hair raising hairpins at a snail’s pace. Halfway through the trip we stopped at a tea house to have a cup of Darjeeling and some cheese pakoras.

During the final ascent we followed the narrow gauge tracks of the Darjeeling railway, passing the third highest railways station in the world. We shared the narrow and potholed road with the tracks that ran right in front of houses and shops. A W/L sign wherever the track crossed a village or town meant ‘Whistle and Listen’ and at each crossing there was a handpainted sign with the a child’s drawing of a locomotive and the words ‘stop, look and go.’

We were told that the 3 hour road trip, by train, would take about 9 hours. Unfortunately the main road (as well as the train tracks) have been blocked for over a year since a landslide and the West Bengal government has other urgent roadwork elsewhere in the state. That’s one of the reasons the Aswanese and Sikkimese want to secede.

We are now in Gorkhaland (or Gurkhaland) and the main language is essentially Nepalese even though we are in India. Our guide and driver are ghurkas. In Afghanistan we know the ghurkas as the folks who guard the American embassy and who I greet with a palm-pressing ‘namaste’ each time we enter the place. We flew back with many of them to Delhi, on home leave to Nepal.

Here at the Windamere hotel we found ourselves in a time warp. We had cocktails in what could have been a Victorian living room, with pictures of dead local and British folks, including the former (and last) king of Sikkim and his American bride, a marriage, we were told didn’t last long, with offspring, two kids, who have disappeared from sight, according to our guide.

After our cocktails we had a pre-fixe dinner in the very Victorian dining room with music to match. We could have pretended we were in another era. White gloved turbaned waiters with wide cumberbands (in modern Afghanistan the Dari word for seatbelt is ‘kamrband.’) noiselessly served us our three-course dinner (non-veg) which we enhanced with a glass of wine.

And now we are in our lovely room with flowery curtains, a fire in the fireplace, old wooden furniture and a tiny clawfooted bathtub in the old fashioned bathroom.
Outside our room are camellia bushes, potted English daisies, bright red geraniums, flowering lantennas and other signs of an English garden tradition. Because it is dark we haven’t seen the view but given how the chairs on the veranda are lined up we expect it to be spectacular. Our guide will come and pick us up at 4:30 AM to see the sunrise over the Himalayas.