Passage from India


Advertisement
India's flag
Asia » India » West Bengal » Kolkata
December 14th 2009
Published: January 7th 2010
Edit Blog Post

Photo 12Photo 12Photo 12

The fight for self-governance in Darjeeling
I have to confess I was a bit nervous about my 18 hour overnight bus ride from Kathmandu to the Indian border at Kakarvitta. I'd heard that the safety record on overnight buses was poor, but when my friend Ann told me that her sister had just been on a bus on the West Terai which had been ambushed and burnt out by Maoist rebels, it suddenly looked even less appealing! Still, I boarded the bus at 4pm and luckily had 3 Australian girls for company. We played a bit of chess, ate unhealthy snacks then slept for the rest of the journey. The only touch and go moment was when one of the rear tyres blew out... luckily not on a corner or next to a steep drop! We arrived at the border at 11am the next morning, and I made the long walk across a bridge to Panitanki, in India.

Having been so elated to leave India over a month before, I wasn't that keen to return, but I knew it would only be for 10 days and so the journey back wasn't too bad. The short bus ride to the nearby town of Siliguri was pleasant, helped
Photo 3Photo 3Photo 3

Kolkata's distinctive yellow taxis
by the conductor who guarded my big bag and pushed people aside to let me get off, but my plans went sour as soon as I tried to begin the next leg of my journey, north to the hill stations around Darjeeling. Due to a four-day strike, all transport to Sikkim, Darjeeling and the neighbouring hill stations of Kalimpong and Kurseong, had been suspended... blockaded by the gorkha people campaigning for a new Indian state of Gorkhaland. The strike was doubly annoying as I'd been planning to meet my friends from Sheffield, Kay and Steve (whom I'd last seen in Varanasi ahead of their trip through Bangladesh, and whom you may remember don't like their photo being taken - hence I still don't have one!), in Darjeeling or Kalimpong. Without an alternative, I booked into a hotel in Siliguri, but then managed to speak to Steve and learnt that they'd passed through Siliguri that morning and were now to the south in Malda. So the next morning I boarded a train to Malda... and in complete accordance with the laws of Sod, the gorkhas decided to lift the transport ban! I met Kay and Steve for dinner, and knowing now
Photo 10Photo 10Photo 10

The beautiful Victoria Memorial
that the ban had been lifted, we all decided to travel back to Darjeeling together.

So, two days later than planned, we arrived in Darjeeling courtesy of the quietest train journey any of us had ever had, and the bumpiest jeep journey that I'd ever had! All lovers of potholes and poorly designed rail crossings should make the journey from Siliguri to Darjeeling! Along the way, each village was decked out in the colours of the proposed Gorkhaland flag, and messages such as 'Gorkhaland is our democratic right' were scrawled onto every roadside surface. For that, the atmosphere wasn't in any way hostile, and kids still played games of badminton in the road. Having left Tibet and then Nepal, I was pleased to be travelling to warmer climbs, but sadly Darjeeling was just as cold... so the thermals came back out and the bottle of hot water went under the covers each night! Darjeeling is a smaller version of Shimla... the same dramatic setting, but with fewer notable landmarks and less order. During our time there, the mist came in every day so that we only glimpsed the sun and surrounding mountains occasionally. The eponymous tea plantations remained shrouded
Photo 9Photo 9Photo 9

Lions guard the old Vic
in mist, so my main impression of Darjeeling was of the town itself... messy and chaotic, but with that air of faded charm shared with Shimla. Annoyingly, my illness had returned, so we spent most of our time there trying to sort me out, deliberating over whether to buy two huge bronze dragons (and eventually deciding that I should buy a flat to put them in first!) and enjoying a daily routine of cereal with cold milk, butter toast and tasty porridge.

Once all our jobs had been accomplished, and after enjoying an amazing roast chicken with veg and gravy, we crammed ourselves into another share jeep and made the bumpy journey back down the hill to Siliguri, then boarded an overnight train (my last in India!) to Kolkata, my final destination. Based on my experiences of Mumbai and Delhi, I wasn't looking forward to Kolkata, but once the hotel touts had been despatched, I was pleasantly surprised. For some reason, the city has a more relaxed air. The streets are all tree-lined and less busy, and crumbling British-colonial buildings are scattered all about. The street hawkers are less aggressive, and the western food available around Sudder Street, the traveller hub, was half decent. So we spent a few days walking Kolkata's streets, stopping for chai (lal chai for Kay) and more chats with various people in urdu (I couldn't really partake in these conversations, and by now I'd got pretty abrupt with people trying to sell me things or get money from me!). The highlight of my time in Kolkata was a trip to the Victoria Memorial, the stupendous pile of British imperial might plonked slap bang in the middle of the Maidan, a huge green (though rubbish-strewn) expanse next to the Hooghly River. The Memorial is an immense and beautiful building, set amongst manicured gardens with reflecting ponds to each side. The grounds were buzzing with foreigners and Indians alike, and it felt surprisingly vital and well-loved despite its overt colonial links. The interior houses a number of interesting exhibitions... the best of which traces a history of Kolkata, with some great sketches of British Calcutta when only Fort William, a few Wren-like churches and grand administrative buildings existed.

My flight out of India was booked for the morning of Christmas Eve, so on my last day in Kolkata, with Kay and Steve safely on a bus to view the terracotta temples at Bishnapur, I bought a new pair of shoes, fixed a hole in my shorts and sold my India Lonely Planet. I can't say I'd enjoyed all my time in India, but I was definitely glad I'd taken the time to explore this vast country, and I think I'll look back on many parts of it with great affection. However, Nepal and Tibet would remain the highlight of the second leg of my trip. But now it's time to begin the third... a short hop, skip and jump to the east, in Vietnam.


Additional photos below
Photos: 17, Displayed: 17


Advertisement



7th January 2010

Hiya
Hey Jonathan I particularly liked Photo 16,i too have spent major part of my life in India and Nepal, and when we live "in" the place we become so fearless ,words like ambush ,Maoist,terror form part of our lives and we enjoy living with the day to day adventures. Funny that, I am sure my 3 year daughter will be totally surprised with the ways of life when she visits her mothers home country as a tourist. Nice reading your experiencw,hope you enjoy your Vietnam trip. Cheers Meena

Tot: 0.06s; Tpl: 0.012s; cc: 8; qc: 28; dbt: 0.0382s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1; ; mem: 1.1mb