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Wow, eleven hours on an overnight train, a rickshaw ride and three and a
half hours on a sharply inclining bus, and it's as if I'm in another
country, most definitely! It's soooo deliciously cool, infact so
cool that there's a constant precipitation in the air, there's no view
of the Himalayas cos of the mist, and my washing still hasn't dried
after three days. That must be why the British decided to build
their hill station here, not because of the ideal tea-growing
conditions or tactical military position, but just because you can
never ever stop finding something to remark on / complain about the
weather.
The clouds swirl about so fast that one minute you can see the big
hotel at the bottom of the hill, the next you get a glimpse of tiny
houses on zig zag roads perched on a steep verdant valley side, the
next nothing but sheer white mist right up to the diamond-pained
windows reflecting your wicker chair and silver engraved teaset.
There's even a red telephone box here, several churches and lots of
lovely houses with windowboxes and terracotta pots full of geraniums,
fusias, and other delicate looking blooms. The India I've been in
before is far too hot for such plants, and there didn't seem to be
much motivation for growing purely ornamental foliage anyway.
But then the majority of people here aren't Indian, they are originally
Tibetan or Nepalese, and apart from the many Indian tourists the whole
town is a much quieter, more smiley and a much less hassling place.
Infact when I staggered off the bus I really did want a pestering
rickshaw driver to take my heavy rucksacks off me, but instead I had to
trudge up the steep steep hills alone in this rarefied air after a 16
hours of travelling with very little sleep. Poor me! I'm
sure I had minor altitude sickness on the first day too, because at
2183m it's Darjeeling is twice as high as Ben Nevis, Britain's highest mountain (914.4m, apparently).
That was when I met one of my guardian angels I think, in the figure of
Nicola from Cardiff, who whisked me off the street ann offered to share
her overpriced hotel room as all the budget hotels in the guidebook
were full up. I don't know what I would have done if I'd carried
on further up the hill to be told repeatedly there was no room in the
inn! So we've been drinking lots of lovely Darjeeling tea,
discussing the faults, adn merits of Indian and British men, the
weather, and the antics of monkeys swinging from the Buddhist prayer
flags around the Buddhist and Hindu shrines.
Speaking of which, time for another cuppa I reckon, and maybe some of
those Tibetan momos, little boiled vegetable dumplings that look like
Cornish pasties...
Oh yes, and I have been trying to put some more photos on here for
ages, but what with extra uploading charges and a lack of cd drives it
hasn't yet happened. I've got over 600 to choose from now though,
some of them not that bad though I say so myself!!
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