Sylvia's Journal

We spent all day in the clouds. This should not be so surprising given that we are at 7000 feet or thereabouts. While still in Kabul we would every night see the BBC weather map of the subcontinent and noted that this part of it was usually in the clouds. And so it was today. We learned, in the Ghum railway museum, from no less a person than Mark Twain, who was here some time ago, that weeks can go by like this.

We got up at 4 AM to make the trek up Tiger Hill to see, as promised by our travel agent and most guide books, the most spectacular sunrise on earth. With a lot of luck we would see all the highest peaks of the Himalayas in cotton candy colors.

The trek was by motorcar. Before we left I had this image of us standing on a tall outcrop all by ourselves. As it turned out we made our way up Tiger Hill with about 200 other cars (each with at least 5 people), all jostling to get to the top first and take up the choice spots on the lookout place. That place was also not quite as I had expected, with several large and ugly cell phone antenna structures and an ugly three story building where one could, for 300 rupees, buy entrance to a heated third floor for more comfortable viewing. So instead of the rosy peaks we watched Indians being tourists in their own country while the clouds passed right through our midst leaving us cold and clammy.

When it was clear that the sun wouldn’t be able to pierce the thick cloud cover the predictable mayhem ensued. All 200 cars tried to leave at the same time, some facing uphill, others down, on what was basically a one lane partially paved track (‘jeepable’ it is called here) up the mountain.

Rather than wait inside the car until the traffic jam dissolved (I couldn’t imagine how it ever could without divine intervention, but it did rather quickly), we decided to walk down and let our driver fend for himself – walking freely like that is such a treat for us and the moist cloud cover felt wonderful on our dried out skin.

On our way back to the hotel, for breakfast, we visited a spectacular monastery and got some basic education about Buddhism from our Buddhist guide, turned several prayer wheels sending wishes for peace in Afghanistan into the clouds.

After a hearty English breakfast we took the famous ‘Toy train’ of the Darjeeling-Himalayan Railway up to the town of Ghum, chugging along at 9 km/hour, if that. Halfway up the mountain we had to fill up on water to continue to generate steam. A large black cloud of coal smoke accompanied our ride and drifted into open windows along the line and enveloped newly washed clothes dangling on clotheslines; people turned their heads and smiled at us while hiding their mouths and noses behind scarves, sarees and facemasks.

Then it was lunch time. We have an hotel arrangement that includes all meals so we seem to be sitting down to eat a lot. In between our guide takes us places. After lunch it was the Himalayan Mountaineering Institute which is tucked away in a corner of the Darjeeling zoo. In the west we learned that Sir Hillary was the first to make it to the top of Mt. Everest but here it is the Sherpa, Tenzsing Norgay, whose name comes always first. We visited his memorial tomb and his glass encases gloves, boots, socks, crampons, coats, glasses and whatnot.

On the way back through the zoo we passed an enormous Bengal tiger, safely tucked away behind a moat and thick metal wire while someone’s radio played Evita’s melancholy song.

Back at the hotel a real English tea, complete with watercress sandwiches and scones with jam and cream, awaited us in one of the sitting rooms that was heated by a cozy coal fire. A young woman in an authentic English maid costume, as if we had stepped right onto an Agatha Christie movie set, served us tea. Cross-stitching my sampler felt exactly the right thing to do.

Promptly at 6 the tea service was discontinued and the bar opened for GTs, accompanied by snacks until it was time for dinner, beef Wellington with bread pudding and custard for dessert.

Once again we have to get up early, even earlier than yesterday because there are problems at the West Bengal-Sikkim border. Our guide told us that if we don’t get there by 6 AM we will not be able to pass until after 6 PM; so much for sleeping in and not having to love by a rigid schedule. Unhappiness with the statusquo is following us all the way from Afghanistan. Still we feel miles away from the stress of our adopted home, happy even in the clouds.