Summertime

It is starting to get hot in Delhi, and one sign is that the ice cream trucks are out. They sit on just about every street corner from about mid afternoon until late night. It cracked the 90 degree mark today and will be 95 by the weekend. The mornings are still somewhat cool, but even these are starting to get warm. I no longer have to wear my sweatshirt when running in the morning It will continue hot until the monsoon season hits from June to September. During that time you definitely do not want to be here. It is like the Tucson monsoon, except that it goes on all day (and night). In truth, I can't imagine what that is like. But for the rest of the time here it is just going to be hot, hot, hot.

Anniversary Dinner

Since Jane is leaving for China on Tuesday, we celebrated our anniversary a few days early by spending the night at the Shangri La and going to a real Chinese restaurant. Fortunately, the Chinese restaurant happened to be located in the Shangri La. But first we had to verify its authenticity by asking if in fact the chef was from China. Once we were assured he was, we took our table. The restaurant offers food from Sichuan (where I was located), Yunan (a province nearby) and Cantonese cuisine (from Hong Kong). We started with a cold dish of chicken slices in a marinade. Jane, however, was not quite satisfied. It seems the dish did not quite resemble the Chinese original ("this one is not that one"). She delivered the same verdict on the tofu and fish soup. Not that it wasn't good, but that it was not like the Chinese original. She loved the shrimp dumplings, however, and the main dish, twice-cooked pork from Sichuan, was a dead on recreation of the Chinese original that I knew. We left stuffed, although we somehow managed to find room for desert at the coffee shop in the lobby. We also agreed to alternate restaurants, so that next year we will eat Italian on our anniversary.

Grub Fest

Today we went to Grub Fest, the annual Delhi food fest, and ate too much. We started with smoked ribs, which was without a doubt the day. Next was some chicken stick sort of thing that I was not crazy about. In order to get the taste out of my mouth I ordered a chocolate shake, which was not really a chocolate shake. I have learned to be expect to be disappointed by attempts at Western food over here. Then i was onto sushi, and ended up with a Nutella waffle with banana. No need to eat for a couple of days.

Back to Normal Life (again)

So we spend a good amount of our time running out to various shops and stores in the neighborhood. There is no supermarket with everything like in the States. The Indians seem to rebel at such a notion. Instead, there are shops for every little thing. A shop for yogurt and dairy products, a shop for small appliances and electronics, a shop for meat, a shop for dry goods, a separate stand for fruits and one for vegetables. It can be frustrating sometimes but is invariably interesting. At least we can usually find everything we need with just a quarter mile walk from our house.

And a shop for flowers!

Jane with her favorite vegetable guy, the only one who doesn't try to cheat her

Darjeeling Day, 5

We saved our biggest adventure for our last day in D. Not on purpose, but because the hike I was hoping to take in Siliguiri National Park would be an all day event that would require nice or at least walkable weather, and that had been in short supply during our first two days in D. But on Sunday the weather forecast for Monday looked superb, and so we booked a one day trek to Silkguiri National Park.

Our guide--a fortyish Tibetan named Dowa-- met us at six in front of our house at six. The day looked promising, the sun was already risen in a cloudless sky. Our vehicle was one of the ubiquitous hummer type vehicles that clog the streets of D. We drove two hours over roads badly in need of repair to recharge our starting point, the tiny village of Dahur. We ate our breakfast of noodle soup and dumplings in a nondescript tow table, concrete floor hole in the wall and set out.

The first part of the hike was going to be the toughest, an eight kilometer (5 mile) hike with a 1000 meter (3000 feet) elevation gain. At our first stop, after about an hour, we could see the Himalyan mountains in the distance. It would, unfortunately, be our last glimpse of them today, as clouds rolled in and not only obscured our view of the mountains for the rest of the trip but would threaten rain and cause us to cut our hike short.

Along the trail, Jane starts to take notice of the chestnuts lying on the ground and soon accumulated quite a haul. At our next stop, she grabs a rock and starts smashing them open and sampling their contents. By noon we reach the summit—a small village called Tonglu—and we can barely see our hands in front of our faces. Thankfully, this is lunchtime. We are offered tea and a choice for lunch of either noodle soup or chow mein in an unheated hut.

After a half-hour we start our descent down a broken down wreck of a road that is a challenge for even the sturdiest of four wheel drives. Thankfully, it is not long before we leave it and our back over rolling hills. By the end we have covered nearly twenty kilomterers.

We had planned to out for a big last meal at a nearby fancy restaurant but are so exhausted we simply stay in bed and watch movies and order room service from the hotel

Start of the hike, sunny but cold

Resting

Lunch stop

One leg in Nepal and one in India (although I forgot which is which)

Not sure what this is, but it looks nice

O

Breakfast stop, very early

Darjeeling, Day 4: Lebong

At 5:30 we are greeted with a decidedly different site from our window: a glimpse of the sun. A blazing orange ball Rises briefly above th clouds befor disappearing into another layer. Soon the sun has transformed into a glowing white ball lighting up the distant mountains like a spotlight.A thick cover of clouds sit below us, but from our vantage point the sky is blue; however, things can change--clear view of the distant mountains can become obscured in an instant by a mist of clouds that appear out of nowhere.

The car-and-motorcycle free half mile path that runs from our hotel to the town square offers an unobstructed view of the distant Himalayas. Small stalls selling scarves and hats and trinkets are set up along the last couple of hundred yards. They are manned by hearty Tibetans who appear at seven in the morning to set up their makeshift spaces and stoically remain there until darkness descends. We stroll the path and enjoy this meteorological transformation.

After breakfast, we decide to take a walk and head to what the guidebook says is a nearby Buddhist monastery. It was supposed to be a simple walk: Five minutes from the central square,mine LP guidebook said, a book I generally speaking regard on such matters with canonical reverence. But I have noticed a tendency in India, a propensity for locals to greatly underestimate the amount of time it takes to reach a destination. This happened our first night in India, when the owner of the guesthouse at which we were staying informed us it was a 15 minute walk to a certain restaurant, and it turned to be a 15 minute cab ride. This has happened more than a couple of times since so I should not have been surprised that our 5 minute walk from the square became more like 25 minutes.

At the bottom we were greeted by an old man reminding us to take off our shoes. The only thing novel about the temple were the painted murals on the inside wall depicting the life of the Buddha. After our visit Jane decided she wanted to try to reach a village even further below. With no discernible path to get there she proceeded by stopping random locals and pointing to the collection of buildings she wished to visit. Ultimate,h she learned the name of the town--Lebong--and after an hour or so of descending we actually reached the place. Having reached our long sought after destination, we were in the position of the proverbial dog that caught the car it was chasing: what next? My main concern during our descent--that we would have to walk back up--was allayed when we saw a taxi. Relief turned to joy when I viewed a fruit stand. We had been unable to track down any fresh fruit so far in Darjeeling and so loaded up down here. With no particular reason to stay in Lebong, we grabbed a shared taxi after a stroll through the town. It was not cheap, but well worth the price of the adventure of exploring the area on our own.

Darjeeling Day 3--

 We awaken to our old friend, the rain. It has been raining pretty consistently since we arrived, and the forecast is for it to continue for a while longer. The rain has been heavy at times and responsible for numerous power outAges that have been occuring. We learn today that it has not rained for about six months here and they really needed it, especially for the tea for which this areA is famous--I hope the city is appreciative of the timing of my vacation.

It is a steady downpour to which we awake , one that has been going on all night. Today we have a two hour train ride planned on what is known as the toy train," small (2  car ) trains that run on an incredibly narrow gauge track. The classic journey runs essentially parallel to the drive we took yesterday but takes eight hour. We are taking the short two hour put and back portion of the journey that is popular with tourists. They run 17 of these trips every day.

The trip starts at 10. We had originally planned to walk to the station. We are not sure exactly where it is but it seems about a 20-30 minute walk on the map. We were also planning on having breakfast along the way, since the oil drenched omelet they served here yesterday appeals to neither of us. However the rain is causing us to rethink this strategy and consider just eating breakfast at the hotel and calling a cab. However, our fear of indigestion outweighs our fear of getting drenched, and we head out a 8, umbrella in hand.

On the way to the train station I stop and ask an Anglo looking white haired woman for directions, and it turns out that she is heading to the same train. We start to follow and it turns out she is in fact getting a ride there, so we hop on board greatful for our good fortune. I give the guy 200 rupees (about three dollars) for the lift.

We spot our train--a two coach affair, with 15 rows of 4 fitting precisely 60 passengers and filled to capacity. The coaches are pulled by a steam engine hooked to the front. We don't have a view seat it given the clouds that engulf us it really doesn't matter. Actually there was about a ten minute break at breakfast where you could begin to make out the outlines of the mountains, so we ma have to be content wth staring at those pictures for a while.

The train runs alongside traffic and next to houses, literally within inches of buildings in places and so is constantly emitting a shrill whistle.  We started twenty minutes late and after about ten minutes stop for no apparent reason. Another ten minutes and we are moving again, a slow, sometimes crawling uphill churn. We reach our destination, the aptly named Ghom, in about 45 minutes and are told there is a half hour break. There is really nothing to do in Ghom except go to the adjacent train museum which tells the history of the Darjeeling train. After ten minutes of this we head back to the glum Ghom station and drink 5 rupee (about ten cents) cups of tea.

End of the line