Written Tue 05th Mar, 2002 in Darjeeling, West Bengal, India
This is a very different India here in the hills of Darjeeling in sight of the Himalaya. Just as Goa is unique in a different way, and Southern India is (so I'm told) different again, there is a stark contrast arriving here from the heat and chaos of the northern Indian plains - especially when the previous stop was the bustling street cauldron of Varanasi.
Darjeeling's location suggests the difference before arrival. In the foothills of the great crescent of the Himalaya, the town is located just north of the very narrow strip of West Bengal which leads to India's north-eastern provinces, surrounded as they are by China, Myanmar and Bangladesh. At one point travelling north from Kolkata (Calcutta) to here, India is only about 20km wide squeezed between the kingdom of Nepal and the Muslim state of Bangladesh - formerly East Pakistan and part of India itself until independence and partition in 1947.
So Darjeeling itself is surrounded by other countries - Nepal to the west, Bhutan to the East, Bangladesh to the south-east, and China, in the shape of the Tibetan plateau, to the north through the small, restricted access and militarily sensitive Indian state of Sikkim.
Two things are immediately noticeable on arrival. Firstly, there are no rickshaws. This is primarily for practical reasons - most roads in Darjeeling are too steep for any motorised rickshaw, let alone a cycle rickshaw, and in fact many of the streets here are pedestrian only. The lack of rickshaws is a welcome relief - no horns sounding like dimented ducks, no two-stroke exhaust fumes, and best of all no rickshaw drivers appearing from nowhere to hassle you if you dare to get out a guidebook or map on the street.
Secondly, there are no cows wandering the streets. Granted, there are a few ponies offering tourist rides from Chowrasta, the main town 'square' at the top of the hill, but generally speaking it is possible to walk round the streets of this town without fear of treading in a pile of something unpleasant which has recently been deposited from the rear end of a large, scrawny animal. The reason for the lack of cows is that the pre-dominant religion in this area is not Hinduism but Buddhism.
Another result of this difference is the type and variety of food here. There are numerous restaurants catering to all tastes - Indian 'pure veg', Chinese, Western, Tibetan. Meat is firmly on the agenda - I had a real 'cooked breakfast' a few days ago - there was enough meat on the plate to make up for a month of vegetarianism in the plains. There are wonderful bakeries here which serve proper coffee and a huge variety of hot croissants and pastries or endless choices of cake. And possibly the best treat of all - Sikkim cheese from a real delicatessen.
But the biggest difference of all is the people. A walk through the streets, or a wander through the crowded market (always an experience and an assault on the senses anywhere in Asia) reveals the many different faces of mountain people - Tibetans, Bhutanese, Sikkimese, Nepali, and the local Gorkhas, primarily Nepali speaking. The faces are varied - some rugged, some weathered, some very old and wrinkled, some beautiful - many smiling.
In general, the people here are very friendly and hospitable, but also more respecting of individuals' space and privacy. It is usually possible to walk around without the endless hassle from rickshaw drivers, touts and shopkeepers - making this a much more relaxing place to stay around.
There are 'indian' faces here too, but they are as likely to be tourists as locals. I was wandering around the local zoo recently with some German friends. Twice we got stopped by groups of Indian tourists who wanted to take a photo of themselves with us. This is a not uncommon occurence elsewhere in India as well. We decided that if one more group asked us, it would prove that the most popular species in the zoo is indeed Touristus Westernii - but it wasn't to be and the Himalayan Black Bears, Red Pandas, Siberian Tigers and the beautiful Snow Leopards still managed to win the popularity stakes.
Looking down over this ethnic and cultural mix is the great Kanchenjunga, India's highest mountain and third highest in the world. Its name is derived from the Tibetan for 'Big Five Peaked Snow Fortress'. Despite being some 60-70km north in Sikkim, the snow-clad peaks are clearly visible, especially in the morning, provided that the clouds haven't descended to leave the whole town and surrounding hills enveloped in a thick fog.
Today is sunny again - the surrounding green hills with their small villages and endless tea plantations are visible again, and Kanchenjunga majestically surveys the Land of the Mountain People from afar.
This is a very different India here in the hills of Darjeeling in sight of the Himalaya. Just as Goa is unique in a different way, and Southern India is (so I'm told) different again, there is a stark contrast arriving here from the heat and chaos of the northern Indian plains - especially when the previous stop was the bustling street cauldron of Varanasi.
Darjeeling's location suggests the difference before arrival. In the foothills of the great crescent of the Himalaya, the town is located just north of the very narrow strip of West Bengal which leads to India's north-eastern provinces, surrounded as they are by China, Myanmar and Bangladesh. At one point travelling north from Kolkata (Calcutta) to here, India is only about 20km wide squeezed between the kingdom of Nepal and the Muslim state of Bangladesh - formerly East Pakistan and part of India itself until independence and partition in 1947.
So Darjeeling itself is surrounded by other countries - Nepal to the west, Bhutan to the East, Bangladesh to the south-east, and China, in the shape of the Tibetan plateau, to the north through the small, restricted access and militarily sensitive Indian state of Sikkim.
Two things are immediately noticeable on arrival. Firstly, there are no rickshaws. This is primarily for practical reasons - most roads in Darjeeling are too steep for any motorised rickshaw, let alone a cycle rickshaw, and in fact many of the streets here are pedestrian only. The lack of rickshaws is a welcome relief - no horns sounding like dimented ducks, no two-stroke exhaust fumes, and best of all no rickshaw drivers appearing from nowhere to hassle you if you dare to get out a guidebook or map on the street.
Secondly, there are no cows wandering the streets. Granted, there are a few ponies offering tourist rides from Chowrasta, the main town 'square' at the top of the hill, but generally speaking it is possible to walk round the streets of this town without fear of treading in a pile of something unpleasant which has recently been deposited from the rear end of a large, scrawny animal. The reason for the lack of cows is that the pre-dominant religion in this area is not Hinduism but Buddhism.
Another result of this difference is the type and variety of food here. There are numerous restaurants catering to all tastes - Indian 'pure veg', Chinese, Western, Tibetan. Meat is firmly on the agenda - I had a real 'cooked breakfast' a few days ago - there was enough meat on the plate to make up for a month of vegetarianism in the plains. There are wonderful bakeries here which serve proper coffee and a huge variety of hot croissants and pastries or endless choices of cake. And possibly the best treat of all - Sikkim cheese from a real delicatessen.
But the biggest difference of all is the people. A walk through the streets, or a wander through the crowded market (always an experience and an assault on the senses anywhere in Asia) reveals the many different faces of mountain people - Tibetans, Bhutanese, Sikkimese, Nepali, and the local Gorkhas, primarily Nepali speaking. The faces are varied - some rugged, some weathered, some very old and wrinkled, some beautiful - many smiling.
In general, the people here are very friendly and hospitable, but also more respecting of individuals' space and privacy. It is usually possible to walk around without the endless hassle from rickshaw drivers, touts and shopkeepers - making this a much more relaxing place to stay around.
There are 'indian' faces here too, but they are as likely to be tourists as locals. I was wandering around the local zoo recently with some German friends. Twice we got stopped by groups of Indian tourists who wanted to take a photo of themselves with us. This is a not uncommon occurence elsewhere in India as well. We decided that if one more group asked us, it would prove that the most popular species in the zoo is indeed Touristus Westernii - but it wasn't to be and the Himalayan Black Bears, Red Pandas, Siberian Tigers and the beautiful Snow Leopards still managed to win the popularity stakes.
Looking down over this ethnic and cultural mix is the great Kanchenjunga, India's highest mountain and third highest in the world. Its name is derived from the Tibetan for 'Big Five Peaked Snow Fortress'. Despite being some 60-70km north in Sikkim, the snow-clad peaks are clearly visible, especially in the morning, provided that the clouds haven't descended to leave the whole town and surrounding hills enveloped in a thick fog.
Today is sunny again - the surrounding green hills with their small villages and endless tea plantations are visible again, and Kanchenjunga majestically surveys the Land of the Mountain People from afar.