So I'm back from India, but I wasn't able to find a cyber-cafe with adequate security, so I've waited until I returned home to post the rest of my trip. Almost all the public computers have pirated Windows operating systems (confirmed by a young Indian tech-savvy friend I made while travelling), so it's not the best place to do anything online that you deem important. [Do you think Bill Gates, with his new found spare time is searching the web for anecdotal evidence to start a WTO case against piracy? Let's hope curing world poverty is a higher priority.]
Last time I posted, I had just arrived in Darjeeling. So let me tell you all about how I arrived there. I took the Rajdhani Express train from Mumbai to Delhi (Uttar Pradesh State), and then another one from Delhi to New Jalpaiguri (West Bengal State). Rajdhani translates to "The Capital", and you can learn more about this wonderful train here. It's called The Capital because this train line emanates from Delhi, and goes to all the major cities. I travelled in AC First class, which was just wonderful. I was on this train three times, and each leg was about 20 hours, so you can see why first class, air-conditioned was the only way to go. The service was very good going from Mumbai to Delhi, below-average for Delhi to New Jalpaiguri, and good from New Jalpaiguri back to Delhi. Of course, since it was India that meant that the butler we had for our berth from Mumbai to Delhi was more than gracious with the collective tip of Rps 400 we gave (about $8 for 22 hours of first class service), and never solicited a tip from us, while the slacker butler we had from Delhi to New Jalpaiguri, who was the first person besides the swarms of begging children that I encountered to directly solicit money, complained repeatedly that the Rps 150 tip was meager for him and his porter. The butler and porter that I had on my return trip back to Delhi secured a private two-person berth for me, so I tipped them for both the service and the accomodations.
In any event, the food was really good. One of the best legacies of British Colonial rule in India is their extensive railway network. Yet another shame of the United States' marriage to the auto industry for the last 80 years: a developing nation like India with a GDP of less than 1/20th of ours has a far more reliable and comfortable rail network. You can get anywhere you'd want to go in India via train (thank Tricky Dick, and successive Detroit-beholden Administrations). For $370 I had reservations on five trains while in India totally approximately 70 hours and 7000 kms. In addition, as opposed to packaged junk food ala Amtrak's beverage/food car that you additionally have to pay for, on my three full-day, overnight journey's my fare included breakfast, lunch and dinner, as well as two snacks, and all the tea and bottled water I wanted. Lunch and dinner consisted of a traditional thali (multiple small dishes; photo attached) that included alloo gobi (potato and cauliflower in a spicy sauce), daal (a lentil dish), paneer masala (Indian cheese in spicy red sauce), whole wheat roti/chapati (indian-style pita bread), raw vegetables, pepper pickles. This was the vegetarian option, and there is a non-vegetarian option as well. Breakfast consisted of a masala omelette (eggs with red, green and jalapeno peppers), Indian corn flakes (forgettable), and something else I'm forgetting. We also had a mid-afternoon snack of a traditional Indian cheese and white bread sandwich, and ice cream for dessert. Indian Railways (which consists of separate sub-entities of Western, Northern and Central divisions) prepare the foods, and we pick it up fresh at certain stations along our journey. Some chefs are better than others, but all were at least above-average. Our butler on the Mumbai/Delhi route even brought us second helpings of anything we wanted! In fact, while I'm not complaining, there actually was too much food to eat. It seemed at times that we were in a food-eating contest.
On my Delhi-New Jalpaiguri route, I shared a berth with four people including an Indian Army officer and an American woman named Chonyi (not her given name). Chonyi and I decided that instead of wasting all the excess food, we would re-wrap any leftovers in the tin foil that covered each dish, or whatever we could find, and began giving the leftovers away to the ubiquitous, homeless, starving children that wandered the platforms at the train stations we stopped at. This was very rewarding to say the least, and something I kept up my entire trip. The look of love in their eyes from a stranger, especially a foreigner, was something I will never forget. Side note: India is NOT for the faint-at-heart. If you've had a chance to see Slumdog Millionaire, do so, it's accurate I'm told. Two things in particular are hard for most Westerners (or anyone with a heart): the poverty and the stray dogs. Both are ever-present. The malnutrition is rampant among both. The signs are everywhere. Hair that should be brown or black is reddish or rust-colored. The emaciated legs. The gaunt faces. Unforgettable. So many stray dogs, almost all of which are nearly identical in size: stunted around 24-30 inches tall from lack of adequate food. Unfortunately, Indian mafia force many children into begging (which is actually illegal in India), and so much of the money that they collect goes to someone else. It's a highly organized racket with most children on the train platforms holding the same tin plates with the same prayer book. Seriously, it's obvious they didn't purchase these themselves. So in order to avoid giving money that doesn't go to the needy, I gave the extra food. In addition, while waiting for a couple trains, I also purchased a dozen or so juice boxes (Rps 15 each, or $0.30), and passed them out. I recommend any traveller do the same. These kids need food, juice and water, not rupees.
I arrived in New Jalpaiguri (NJP) with Chonyi on a Wednesday around noon. Chonyi is probably in her upper 50's, and has two grown children. I don't know her given name, but I noticed the name on her bags didn't say Chonyi. Whatever, it's not important. What's important is her story. She's from San Francisco, but has spent the bulk of the last 15 years living a bohemian life trekking (almost entirely alone) through Central and Southeast Asia. She began in 1994. Some of her journey's included 3 months through Northeastern Pakistan, Kashmir, Nepal and Bhutan trekking alone from village to village, crossing borders (sometimes illegally), through some of the most rustic places on earth. She'll go months without seeing another English-speaking person. She was returning to India after 5 months of being back in the U.S. for some medical treatment, and some R n' R. She was travelling with two enormous duffel bags, and had decided to stay in Siliguri (next town north of NJP), but had no reservations anywhere. Let me describe Siliguri for you: Bogota, circa 1989. This place looked and felt rough. But it had a lot of activity going on. It's also the central location of an independence movement that many of the local hill towns are seeking; a new state called Gorkhaland. The people in this region aren't really Indian. They are an amalgam of Nepalese, Tibetan, Sikkh (former Kingdom, now Indian State of Sikkim), Chinese, and Bengali. And they have been lobbying peacefully, and at times violently for a new country. They have painted over many Indian government signs and replaced the wording with Gorkhaland. There were protests that turned violent in June 2008 that have had a marked affect on local tourism (the only road from NJP to the hill towns leading to the Nepal/Himalayan border, of which Darjeeling in the largest and most popular runs through Siliguri). We'll return to this saga later. Anyways, Chonyi's son, who lives in Austin, came over for a couple weeks, and befriended a local, who helped arrange for his mom to stay at a Buddhist monastery for 5 months. Pretty cool. He met us at the train station, and we all jumped into the SUV that my hotel had sent for me. After dropping them off (and getting to shake hands with my first Buddhist monks!), I was on my way solo again. We passed through the rest of Siliguri, and one of the Gorkhaland leaders (a woman, no less) was giving a passionate speech along the way near a statue of Darjeeling and National Hero, Sherpa Tenzing Norgay. We entered tea country, passed through an army base, and up into the Himalayan foothills. It's about a 50 mile drive to Darjeeling from NJP, but it takes about 2.5-3 hours because it's all one-lane each way (and sometimes less), switchbacks up the mountain. The pavement is potholed in many places. We passed through several other hill towns, and arrived in Darjeeling mid-afternoon. Wow. I mean, WOW! This place felt like another world. It's more Nepal, than India. The majority of the people are definitely not Indian descendants. Do you remember the place Harrison Ford met Karen Allen in the beginning of Raiders of the Lost Ark? Well, minus the blizzard and the Nazi's, that's what this town felt like. I checked into my hotel, and immediately wandered out to explore. First stop, the Dekevas Restaurant, which Frommer's had recommended as a great place for Tibetan food, especially their momos (Tibetan dumplings). I have to hand it to Frommer's on this one, while not always an entirely accurate description from my perspective (remember the reports are written by people, all of whom have different tastes), the reporter for this place was dead on. This was the best Tibetan food I had in Darjeeling. The vegetable soup and the vegetable fried rice were also amazing.
Other places I ate at in Darjeeling were Glenary's, a Darjeeling institution since 1935. It has a definite British theme, including a red, London telephone booth. They have a pub called The Buzz in the basement level, a bakery (with EXCELLENT pastries), internet cafe and diner on the main level, and a restaurant on the top level. Good food, good service, great views from the diner area. Order the Indian specialties at the upstairs restaurant. It was the best aloo gobi I had the entire trip. Unfortunately, these were the only two places I got to eat at during my trip. Lemon Grass (aka The Park), was closed for three weeks while the proprietors vacationed. But that's only a small part of the reason. The main reason was that on Friday morning, in that friendly town of Siliguri, the peaceful political protests again turned violent. Five killed, many people, including over a dozen police officers, hospitalized. I had eaten breakfast at Glenary's Friday morning, and walked the 2+ miles out of town to visit the Darjeeling zoo and the Himalayan Mountaineering Insitute (which share the same entrance). Both were very cool, and are must-see's when visiting the area. The zoo is the only place in the world that has been successful at breeding red pandas (see photo) as well as snow leopards.
The Mountaineering Institute was established in 1954 following Sherpa Tenzing Norgay and Sir Edmund Hillary's first ascent of Everest in 1953. Norgay lived in Darjeeling until his death in the late-80's. The Institute also included a separate Everest museum, which was waaaay cool. So much information, old and modern gear, etc. They are a well-respected climbing school, with Everest, as well as many other, ascents by their former pupils and staff. And you can understand why the Himalaya's are so important when you look at the photo of Mount Kanchenjunga, the 3rd tallest peak in the world behind Everest (29,029) and K2 (28,251), located about 50 miles north of town and sitting watch over Darjeeling. It tops out at 28,169 feet, and has 5 peaks! To give you some perspective, it lies above Darjeeling like Mt. Rainier does to Seattle. But Rainier is only 14,203 feet. So this has a surface elevation of almost twice that.
By the time I returned back to town it was early afternoon, and I noticed that many restaurants and shops were closing for business. Since it was a Friday afternoon, I thought maybe it was normal to cut out early. I stopped in Glenary's, had a quick lunch, but noticed the service was rushed, and they were closing the doors behind me. Still it didn't strike me as all that odd. This was a foreign land, and no one seemed to be at all agitated walking along the streets. I headed back to my hotel for a nap. I was greeted by a warm hello and a smile when I returned. I got up around 4pm to shower and grab some dinner (dinner usually is served from 4:30-8pm in Darjeeling. When the sun goes down, the town usually shuts down, with only a couple places open until 11pm). I headed out, and again, nothing said from the front desk. But as soon as I got outside I realized something was up. Nothing was open, and the crowds from Wednesday and Thursday nights were non-existent. There were two general stores still open, and after realizing that there were no other dinner options I headed over to one. I asked one of the employees why everything was closed, no answer, but his eyes scanned to the other employees. I asked another one, he motioned me closer. Uh oh. He asked if I'd heard about the protests in Siliguri earlier. I said no. He said they got out of hand, and the protesters closed the mountain road just north of Siliguri. Nothing in to the hill country (Darjeeling included). The road was open to people travelling out, but only until 6pm Friday. And as a sign of solidarity, the shop keepers and restaurant owners in Darjeeling were closed up after lunch as well. Alrighty!!! Here was my taste of everything my parents and some friends were concerned about before I left. Political unrest in India, about as common as the Mumbai smog. No panic on my part though. The employee said the protests never got violent in Darjeeling. I purchased some crackers and Oreo's, and a large bottle of water, and headed back to my hotel. However, Saturday morning I awoke to the sounds of protest on the streets outside my hotel. Oh boy. The morning paper was delivered with the front page reports of what had gone down Friday morning in Siliguri. Ok, now I was a little more concerned. First time in my life I was actually worried about my safety. Fortunately, the employee had been correct the night before, and nothing bad happened in Darjeeling. I was scheduled to depart Sunday morning at 8am, and the protesters called a truce as of midnight Saturday. So I confirmed the taxi ride back to NJP, and all was set. But still no restaurants or stores. Luckily the hotel's satellite tv worked fine. I ordered some tea, and chilled out, spending some time chatting with the British couple next door to me. However, I had my first illness Saturday. The packaged food from the general store had apparently expired (by about a year), but hey, I had no other options. I would up spending most of Saturday with a stomach illness. It passed by Sunday morning, but it wasn't pretty. I made it back to NJP, and onto the train for the return trip to Delhi.
This was so much more than just a vacation. It was an adventure. And this isn't a food blog, it's a travel-food blog. So I hope you're enjoying the ride. I know I did! I'll post Agra and Delhi in separate posts in the next few days. Until then, cheers.
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