Wah... Late.

I returned from the Christmas/New Year break to an absolute whirlwind of work, so we've been back almost a week, and I'm only just getting this post together.

It's an account of our India trip after Kolkata and before Delhi.

India is an odd shape. There's a very thin bit up in the northeast, which is known (not surprisingly) as the Chicken's Neck. This broadens out to two distinct areas, one big, one small. The big one lies to the east, and encompasses Assam, Nagaland, Manipur, and so on. The small one lies due north, borders (from left to right) Nepal, China, and Bhutan, and contains part of West Bengal and the curious little Indian state of Sikkim.

A (very) long-distance train runs from Kolkata all the way to Manipur. But if you get off in New Jaipalguri, you can easily go north to those latter two areas.



And having returned to that useful little junction town, which you reach by zigzagging down the last enormous mountain that abruptly separates the uplands from the plain, you can pick up trains onwards to Delhi, via Varanasi (or, more accurately, Mughulsarai, a few kilometres from the holy city), and Lucknow.

All this we did, in company with 10 other travellers and a lovely guide.

The trip would, of course, be perfectly doable independently. But you have to organize special permits for Sikkim, and in this winter period, with many trains catastrophically delayed because of fog, it's really nice to be able to leave all the rearranging to a patient and competent fixer.

Be aware that conditions in the semi-open six-berth sleeper compartments can get very cramped (especially if your fellow-travellers are using their berths for a whole family of children or a ton of luggage (as ours variously were on our two overnight journeys). But we had some nice conversations, and on some of the services, both sleeper and otherwise, you are provided with liberal quantities of food (lunch, afternoon tea, three-course dinner...).

High points of this very satisfying trip:

1.
The Himalayas. I had never seen these giants of the earth, and so I found my first views totally jaw-dropping. The eternal snows... Our first glimpses came from the windows of our hotel in Kalimpong, amid lots of excited shouting about "the mountains, the mountains". There were more good panoramas from the top of Deolo Hill, just outside Kalimpong, and from the viewpoint outside Gangtok.



And at dawn on New Year's Day, after freezing our butts off at the top of Darjeeling's Tiger Hill, pressed and buffeted by the New Year crowds, we were rewarded not only with an ascending red ball (impossible to photograph because of the multiplicity of cameras), but also with some glittering white peaks.





Our absolute best view, however, came just as we were leaving Darjeeling on our tough little bus. I happened to look over my right shoulder, and -- bang -- there they were. Huge, clear, and sparkling in the early morning sun.

There's a kind of metaphor here, I think. If you strive to find beauty, you will indeed find it, but the best moments are the ones that just land in your lap, a gift from heaven.



2.
Mountains generally. We navigated some stunning roads in this first section of our trip. Curve after curve. View after view. Amusing, too, was the constant barrage of advice doled out by the frequent signage. "Road is hilly, don't drive silly" was a particular favourite of mine.



3.
Sikkim. We had time for only a taste, but this little state is a fascinating historical anomaly. And as a Manx person, I like those. You get a special little stamp in your passport (and notch up another Travelers' Century Club territory). Its bylaws are very strict, outlawing littering and smoking in public places, and promoting organic agriculture throughout the state. It applies very low sales taxes, so bottle shops are two a penny (immediately obvious as you enter the state through the town of Rangpo), and they sell their wares at bargain prices (the locally made rum, in particular, is excellent).



Sikkim's mountain scenery is stunning, and its capital, Gangtok, is a study in how to manage verticality. Its buildings are strewn over precipitous slopes, and its main street straddles a ridge, so that the gaps between shops give onto vertiginous sets of steps and passages.





4.
Mountain ethnicities. In this whole tract of land, there is a multi-ethnic quality. The people start to look different. Less South Asian, more Central Asian. In Sikkim, Rumtek Monastery is a reminder of all you learned in Mongolia, and all you'd like to learn in Tibet. Momos are everywhere (we even made some ourselves), and in Taste of Tibet, a Gangtok restaurant, you can try a kimchi-reminiscent appetizer/side-dish, shyabhale (little pasty-like pies, the meat cooked with herbs and very flavourful), or a bowl of thenthuk (peppery soup with vegetables and thick, roughly cut noodles).









On the way back down the hill from the monastery, we stopped off at a Loosong festival organized by the Bhutia people to mark the end of the harvest season. We were welcomed with open arms, floured, asperged, provided with a tasty fermented fruit drink, and led off to watch the games (in this case shot-put). A few young people kept us company as we watched. Someone came round with a kettle of butter tea, and plates of crispy snacks. And then there are the Nepalese. Posters saying "We want Gorkhaland" are visible all through the hill country. When we got home, the condo guards (Nepalese, as are so many guards in Malaysia) asked Nigel: "Did you like Sikkim? There are lots of Nepalese people there..."



5.
The Darjeeling Himalayan Railway. We took a so-called "joy ride", and I loved the whole experience. What I would really like to do, though, is come back and cover the whole length of the track from New Jaipalguri (even though not all of it is steam-served).

These are brave little trains, chuffing their way laboriously up extraordinarily steep gradients and round extraordinarily tight curves, their track scrunched up right next to little shops and houses.

The cuteness factor is enormous. Partly it's their dinky size, and their natty saddle-tank construction. Then there's their tootiness. As they share their space with cars, and cross the road at a couple of points, they toot pretty constantly. Then there's their adorable big front light. Which they must really need, as you can hear them tooting well after darkness has fallen. And of course, there's all the usual steam-train charm that they share with their larger brethren. The smell of the clinker, the panting of the engine, the palls of steam and smoke... Wonderful.









6.
New Year's Eve. This awesomely enjoyable little event was organized for us by our lovely hotel-keeper at Krishna Residency, Darjeeling. He invited guests, neighbours, and staff, and provided a bonfire, a buffet, and a New Year's cake. We provided the entertainment by bopping along (expertly or not) to a succession of Bollywood hits.



7.
Other joys of Darjeeling. These included visiting the Happy Valley tea estate for some tea-tasting; and contrasting the stillness of the Peace Pagoda on a cold New Year's morning with the carnivalesque atmosphere of the Mahakal Temple a little later the same day, with the queues snaking way back beyond the entrance, the prayers and temple music sounding, and the votive bells dinging.

We ate our New Year's Day lunch at Glenary's, a venerable Darjeeling eatery/bakery. Throwing ourselves into the old colonial spirit of the thing, Nigel opted for shepherd's pie, and I for roast beef and French fries. Generous portions, and my thick, tender slices of beef came in a sauce that put me in mind of HP, that colonial-era sauce "made from oriental fruits and spices". The whole thing was accompanied by a buttered roll, a touch that my father would have definitely approved of. Excellent.







8.
Varanasi. Which totally exceeded my expectations... I had expected it to be ridiculously crowded, a rerun of Tiger Hill on a much bigger scale. And, yes, it's true that the traffic is fairly insane. But huddled in a tuktuk or perched on a bicycle rickshaw, you can just leave the hard bit to the driver, sit back, and enjoy the show.





And there are many opportunities for contemplation. At Sarnath, for example, where Buddha preached his first sermon.



Or on board a boat, cruising up and down the ghats. In the evening, when the worship service takes place, the scene is very animated. Clouds of incense waft across the water. The priests chant, ring bells, and brandish fire in various configurations.

The river air is cold, but you can keep warm with chai from vendors whose kettles have built-in charcoal burners. Your heart will be warmed by the brave little floating lights that people launch on the big, holy river to carry away their prayers...





Some funerals were still proceeding at both the two burning ghats (and of course, you have to keep your distance here, out of respect). Bodies, wrapped in bright shiny fabric, lay on the steps waiting their turn.



In the early morning, things are happening down by the river, but the atmosphere is subdued. Despite the cold, people are bathing. Vendors are offering a variety of goods and services. The morning prayer ceremony is unfolding.



Back at the large burning ghat, the one overshadowed by the pointed towers, the remains of several pyres can be seen, and the smell of smoke lingers. On every side are huge woodpiles. Stalwart men haul heavy loads of awkwardly shaped firewood up the steep ghat steps. At the water's edge floats a strange detritus of broken bamboo from the biers, scraps of gaudy cloth from the shrouds, and wilted marigolds. Pigeons and mynahs are constantly circling.



Later in the day, walking the ghats is a little like walking any water-side esplanade. It's amazingly picturesque. People are variously making offerings at one of the multiplicity of shrines, playing cricket, dealing with laundry, or flying kites. The one obvious exception to the seaside vibe is the funerals... In the midst of life is death.







9.
Lucknow. A late train meant that we were not over-endowed with time in Lucknow. Still, we visited the incomparable Bara Imambara, enjoyed a movie (in a new mall, rather than in the picturesque but decrepit suburban picture-house we saw the next day), and had plenty of time (on account of another train delay) to take in the sights of the busy railway station...















10.
Food. I had only one dull meal in the course of the whole trip. The rest of the food was awesome. I particularly love Indian breakfasts, and revelled in parathas, puris, upma, uttapam, and all the rest. I also relished exploring the sweets (so squidgily different from what we get here, or even what we got in Kolkata). My other favourite staple was the wonderful hot, sweet, spicy, milky tea. Delicious. And perfect for those chilly North Indian winter mornings. Lucknow turned out to be quite the gourmet city. Comestibles of note were the paan shots from Colours, the fabulous kebabs from a friendly traditional place, and outstanding kulfi.