Our visit to Darjeeling

Only the newest buds like this one are picked for tea.

When I was a teenager, there was always a tin of Darjeeling tea in the cupboard, and my friend Sandi and I drank gallons of it, lounging on the couch at my place or hers, listening to Joni Mitchell and contemplating life. Then it was just a tin of loose tealeaves we poured steaming hot water over. I don’t think I could have anticipated then, that I would be spending the better part of a week exploring the town and the area where those tea leaves were (and still are) picked by hand at just the right moment, dried, fermented, graded and prepared to be finally packaged for our enjoyment.

The town of Darjeeling is built on the side of a mountain and has the appearance of terraced fields when you first look at it, spreading further and further down the mountain. But instead of colourful crops, you see brightly painted buildings and prayer flags wherever you look. Long steep staircases connect different parts of town with small roads weaving their way between staircases. These streets are filled with bustling markets and food stands, which are the lifeblood of this ever-expanding town. The tourist area is much quieter, lined with budget hotels, teashops and bakeries where you can sample any number of graded Darjeeling teas, black, white or green.

In close proximity to the town, there are a number of very interesting Buddhist Monasteries to visit, one of India’s noteworthy Zoo’s, a mountaineering school, a botanical garden and I am sure many other noteworthy attractions that have not yet made it into the guidebooks. After a visit to the zoo, we spent an afternoon just wandering the streets to the outskirts of town, where we found many local young couples taking scenic walks. On another day we hired a taxi and driver to take us to the Monasteries.

 

In between sightseeing we gorged ourselves on the amazingly good street food, freshly prepared in front of our eyes. There were momos (steamed dumplings), fried noodles, rolls (something between a chapatti and a pita cooked on a skillet and filled with various delicious fillings), deep fried pastries filled with vegetables or chicken, French fries, and even a Nepali/Indian version of a hot dog. And of course we sampled Darjeeling tea, black and green, which hit the spot on the misty and cold early mornings and late afternoons of our three-day visit.

street food in Darjeeling yum!

After three really enjoyable days in Darjeeling we made our way to Karmi Farms where Andrew, our host met us with a handshake and a warm smile. Andrew, of half Scottish and half Indian heritage grew up on a tea plantation his father managed just up the hill from the house he and his mother now live in which has been converted into a homestay (http://www.karmifarm.com). This visit proved to be one of the highlights of our trip.

View from Karmi Farm

This is the veranda and the view if you are sitting on it!

Karmi Farms is a six hour trek from Darjeeling (5,000 feet downhill and then 3,000 feet up). Marc and I decided to take the easy option and jump into a jeep, but many of our group decided to do at least part of the trek. We met at the bottom for a wonderful packed lunch (provided by Andrew) and four of our group carried on up the hill on foot. We arrived about an hour before them by jeep and had a chance to sit on the veranda, meet Andrew’s mom, sip on freshly brewed Darjeeling tea and enjoy the fantastic view. As soon as everyone arrived we were shown to our rooms.

The main house.

The next three days were magical.

I am not sure where to begin. Shall I start with the fact that Andrew’s family have been caring for the medical welfare of all of the villagers within walking distance since they have lived here and have now opened a real clinic in a new building on their land — or with the fact that he is in the midst of orchestrating the building of a new house for a 21 year old girl who lives three hours by foot away from his farm, crippled in a bridge accident two months ago — or that he got us invited to a local wedding during our visit, where we witnessed the traditions of the local people — or that he and his mom have taken in three boys whose parents can’t afford to feed them and is sending one of them off to school for higher education — or that we were fed the most amazing food imaginable, prepared by Andrew, his mom and their cook and kitchen staff?

Lunch!

We felt like we were in the middle of a really good movie that makes you laugh and makes you cry and you never forget. It was an unforgettable experience from so many perspectives. Andrew made a choice to move himself back to this place and to give up all of the conveniences of the West to be a part of this life in the jungle dotted with tea plantations (or tea gardens as he calls them). The large comfortable house and adjoining dormitories and suites (room for 20 people max) is beautifully appointed but rustic to be sure. The cooking in the large kitchen is accomplished using a wood burning stove and oven. It is winter here and there is no heating except for the two fireplaces in the sitting rooms at the front of the house. All laundry is done by hand and hung out to dry on the line. Every plank of wood used to build the house has been hand cut and carried here. The nearest hospital is at least four hours by jeep on rough road.

I think you get the picture. This life is hard and he and his family are nothing short of amazing.

We walked about an hour through the bush to the wedding. About half way there, we could hear the music and smell the food cooking. This wedding was between a Hindu woman and a Christian man. A love marriage, rather than an arranged one — and a first for Andrew as well. He was as curious as we were as to how it would all come together.

When we arrived we were welcomed by family and ushered to a seated area where we were given tea to drink and cookies and other treats to eat. There were two other tents set up for food — veg (vegetarian) for the Hindu side of the family and non-veg for everyone else. After much pomp and circumstance the bride and the groom appeared and were seated in a special area set up for them to receive gifts and congratulations from the greater community. With each gift, there was the ceremonial placing of a prayer shawl on the bride and groom, bows and placement of the gifts in a safe place in exchange for a small gift from the bride and groom to the community member. We had no idea what was in the small box, but we hoped it was wedding cake!

Behind all of the tents, a goat was being cleaned and dressed for cooking. The younger members of the community were washing dishes and the young married women were chopping vegetables. Most of the young men were serving food in the two tents. There was an ongoing procession of people arriving, having tea, eating a meal and congratulating the bride and groom. We left mid afternoon, but the music could be heard from Karmi Farms well into the wee hours of the morning! What an experience!

Andrew was explaining to us where the new house would be built.

There were heartbreaking moments as well as we visited the young woman that was crippled by a bridge accident. Andrew has great plans for her though, and hopes to improve her ability to be more independent with the construction of a small house that will be wheelchair accessible.

the final momos!

On our last night, the kitchen staff taught us all how to make momos. Not an easy task and we made quite a mess of it, but luckily they tasted the same no matter how they looked. After dinner, the young boys living with the family performed a series of dances for us, which ended with all of us up on the dance floor attempting a Napali folk dance. It was a great way to spend our last night in this incredible place.

As with our arrival to Karmi farms, there was an option to leave by foot to the Sikkim border — a trek of about three hours. This time we joined the group for an amazingly pleasant walk through villages and tea gardens, which would take us to the Sikkim border and our awaiting jeeps.

Andrew and his mother and aunt with the young boys and the cook and his helper as well as the tall young man on the right who took us on walks.

The whole extended family posed for a group photo before we left the farm. And then Andrew and his mom bid us each farewell. We were all amazed at how attached to them we all felt after such a short stay. This place and these people made a very big impression on all of us, and our visit to Karmi Farms ranks as one of the greatest highlights of this trip.

Its the final countdown

 

There were several times during the last 70 odd days, where this song was requested (we could plug in an mp3 player into the audio system in our bus). There was always a mixed reaction when the request was made and many times there was overwhelming disapproval, but when we were rolling into Chennai, where we would say our goodbyes to a large part of the group, there was not a peep and even a few tears.

Now that we have left Calcutta behind, and have begun the last leg of our India trip, I can’t get this tune out of my head.

10 days left — and for all intents and purposes, we have left India already. We arrived yesterday in Darjeeling, which was part of Nepal until India Independence (or around that time), and the people here not only look Nepalese, but they speak Nepali. There are prayer flags everywhere and even the architecture changed dramatically. But I am getting ahead of myself.

We spent three days in Calcutta, and I feel at this point, I could argue with Ajay as to where the real soul of India lies. I put my bets on Calcutta.

We were all dreading arriving in Calcutta. Everyone had the impression that it was a really run down, dirty, impoverished, malaria infested city with little appeal for a three day visit. But from the moment we arrived at the train station and stood in line for our prepaid yellow cabs, we realized that this was a very special place. Aside from the many tourist attractions, including The Mother House (the first hospice Mother Theresa opened to help the dying poor of Calcutta) and all of the subsequent charity homes founded by her, the Victoria Monument, India Museum, Marble Palace, the Howrah Bridge (The third longest cantilever bridge at the time of its construction in the world), various markets and modern shopping malls and endless other gems, there was the vast city itself to explore and appreciate.

The Mother House

Victoria Monument

Calcutta lives and breathes its poverty and its riches. There are such multitudes living in each sphere that one really does not bother with the other. They seem to live in complete harmony (or at least it seemed that way to us). Our hotel, the Comfort Inn (no, as you’ll note from the pics, not at all related to the U.S chain) was situated in what I can only call a moderate slum of Calcutta. When our yellow cab dropped us off in front of it, we were more than a little skeptical of what we would find inside. The exterior was crumbling and the storefronts on all sides looked worrisome, but within an hour we were settled in our pleasantly appointed room on the second floor and started to discover the neighbourhood.

Doesn't look too comfortable does it?

As each day turned to night on our street, the sidewalk converted to a makeshift hostel for the large number of people who call this home. Street people’s laundry hung from electric lines and children bathed from the flowing tap in the street. Friendly card games were ongoing on the sidewalk, and in the morning, you can watch men getting shaved by the resident barbers on street corners, shoes being shined, more bathing, and meals being prepared by street vendors. Rickshaw drivers slept in their rickshaws. There were small fires on the sidewalk to keep warm or to heat up chai. At all hours, someone is digging a ditch or moving bricks around — all in what looked to us, like perfect harmony. We walked through their makeshift homes on the way to and from all of our activities, and there was never a feeling of being unsafe. In fact, they hardly noticed us. If we needed information they were more than happy to help, otherwise they let us be and we tried to do the same.

For that reason, I really have no pictures of these phenomena or the people we saw during our short visit. It just didn’t feel right to intrude on their privacy.

Just a short walk from our hotel (less than 1k) was a very modern Calcutta street (Park Street) with shops, restaurants, banks and modern middle class Indians shopping, sipping cappuccino and eating fancy pastries. Two worlds side by side. It was so interesting and so India.

This fancy bathroom fixture shop was actually on our street with people sleeping on the side walk out front.

For me it was the best way to end our trip in this incredibly diverse country. The city is so real. No pretensions. What you see is what you get.

We boarded the second-class AC (air conditioned) sleeper train at the new Kolkata (Calcutta can be spelled both ways) train station at around 9:00 pm headed for Siliguri. This was not like any other sleeper train Marc and I had been on and at first I was very apprehensive. There were no cabins, just six beds facing each other (three and three) and then another six beds all the way down the car. During the day, one bed on each side is lowered so that three people can sit, and at night it turns into a massive dormitory. Most Indians board with an overnight bag, but the 10 of us had all of our backpacks and duffle bags, day-packs and snacks for the overnight journey.

Did I mention there are no racks for luggage? Or that Indians seem to be in a huge panic to board trains and like to push and shove from both ends of the car? Or that we were not all in consecutive bunks and that there were at least three Indians that would be sleeping with us?

You can't tell, but Rosie is on the bunk on top and I my bunk is under Marc. Just to my right, there were three other bunks for Anja, Bob and Jeremy!

It took about an hour, but we managed to shove 80% of our luggage under the seats and convince three Indians to switch seats so we were all more or less together. The other 20% of our luggage somehow transformed into pillows or foot rests. Once we finally got comfortable, and killed a couple cockroaches, most of us remarkably fell asleep and slept more or less soundly until 7:00 am when we got organized for the escape from the train, with all of our luggage without being trampled by the Indians.

At this point, having arrived in Siliguri and having met our jeep drivers for the trip to Darjeeling, I am not sure any of us knew how perfect it was to have experienced this overnight train at this particular moment, and to have visited Calcutta as our last major Indian city. Within hours, we had left everything we knew as India behind. The scenery changed, the people had changed, the temperature had dipped 20 degrees, and even the language had changed.

10 days and counting. It’s definitely the final countdown.

(As a footnote, the Dragoman truck we have been waiting for since the beginning of the trip has finally been released from customs in New Delhi. Since the truck’s papers are in Al’s name, he needs to be in New Delhi to sign them and drive the truck to the Nepalese border to pick everyone up for the last three days of the trip. Since we are flying to Singapore from Siriguli and will not be crossing the border into Nepal with the rest of the group, we had to say farewell to Al in Calcutta. He is an amazing person and a born leader and we will really miss him. I know there will be many times once we are on our own organizing our way through Singapore, Malaysia etc, that we will wish we had Al along to help us problem solve and get things done. We will miss his great stories and his way of getting results in the most stressful situations. And, of course, his signature statement “No worries guys? Cheers!”)

Orissa Tribal Tour—the soul of India

When we met Ajay, our local guide in Visakhapatnam, he was quick to congratulate us on visiting all of the biggest monuments and beautiful sights his country has to offer, but now he assured us, we would be experiencing something quite different. Now we would be entering the soul of India — Orissa.

He imparted these words of wisdom with his signature welcoming smile and eyes glistening with enthusiasm. He soon shared with us, that he had spent most of his life in the jungles of Orissa with his father who was a teacher of the tribal people. For this reason, this area and these people are near and dear to his heart. But he further explained that during his lifetime he has witnessed the effects of the government’s attempts at (so called) improving their standard of living, by simplifying their lifestyle and attempting to settle the wandering tribes into permanent villages. As he described these government intrusions, we could see the sorrow creep into his expression. We would see for ourselves soon enough that the changes forced on these indigenous peoples have altered their way of life irreparably.

Our five days in Orissa were filled with mixed emotions about the tour itself and the ethics of the company Dragoman hired to arrange our visits. We were travelling in a caravan of three jeeps and felt at times like we were on a human safari. What we were looking for was elusive and when we found it, it was fleeting. Ajay did his best, but we felt at times that he was given an unobtainable task.

The distances between villages were significant and it always seemed like we would arrive just after the tribal women with the signature jewelry and woven clothing we were meant to visit, had left for the market. If we arrived at the market, we soon found the tribal people were up in the hills for a special festival. When we entered a village, we often feet unwelcome. Children were asking for biscuits and chocolate, because that was what was usually provided in order to allow tourists like us to take photos. Something just wasn’t right.

Ajay filled us in on the some of the more difficult facts, such as how the government had provided asbestos roofing tile free of charge to the villagers so that they would not have to re-thatch their roofs, with no attempt to explain to them that they were using materials that are banned in most countries due to their carcinogenic properties. We also learned that alcohol abuse is widespread among a population of young men who carry a hatchet and a knife as part of their tribal dress, leading to violence.

Not a pretty picture.

But even with the difficult facts and frustrations of long drives, we did get a glimpse into the life of these beautiful people. I tried very hard to make a connection and to let them know how much I appreciated the stunning patterns of their saris and the glitter of the gold in their nose rings and earrings. We managed to communicate through hand gestures and smiles, which go a long way when it is the only common language available. Although I know they have seen themselves many times in the cameras of the tourists that bother them day after day, they still giggle each time and seem to get some kind of pleasure out of seeing themselves or their children in my viewfinder. It somehow helped me feel ok about intruding in their lives in such a crass way. But I know I was only kidding myself.

Each evening before dinner Ajay filled us in on the traditions, family structure and history of the tribes we would be visiting. It was a lot of information and I can’t remember it all well enough to pass it on, but this link will give you some insight.

In addition to the cultural side of the tribal area, we were also privy to state politics. Orissa will be having an election in a day or two and everywhere we went we were bombarded with election propaganda. Since most of the tribal people are illiterate, each party is represented by a symbol. It took us a day or two to figure out why all walls in most villages had painted slogans on them along with pictograms. “Vote for” accompanied by a drawing of a teapot, or a hand, or a seashell. Then there were small trucks with loudspeakers blaring out political party platforms travelling all through the state at all hours of the day and night. Each truck bears the colours and the symbol of the party. Ajay was quick to comment on the propensity of the incumbent party to quickly pave roads or make any quick fix upgrades to assure the villagers’ votes in the upcoming election. We also witnessed a lunch catered by a political party in one of the villages we visited. Nothing like a good meal and alcohol to assure a trip to the ballot box!

In spite of the difficulties, we did have a lot of very positive experiences on our tribal tour, that will stay with us always. Here are some excerpts.

… We stopped our three jeeps at the entrance to a bustling fruit and vegetable market. Ajay walked us through, pointing out the many items we could not identify or had never seen before. We tasted rice alcohol, nibbled on mysterious nuts and tasted hand made sweets. Many of the women selling goods and/or shopping for them had triple nose rings. This Ajay told us this identified them as belonging to one particular tribe. In many cases their goods were neatly grouped in circular piles. Ajay explained that these items were priced by group rather than by weight. The people were as colourful as their wares for sale and we thoroughly enjoyed our wander through the first of several markets we visited on the tour.

… We were met by the Chief of the tribe, dressed in a beautiful lilac Salwa (long man dress and skinny pants) at the entrance to the village. He was a very handsome man, and we could see right away that he was well respected by the villagers. He accompanied us through the village, and as his guest, we were very well received by the local people. Ajay translated if the Chief explained something specific about the tribe or the village and added information as we visited different areas and saw different aspects of their daily life. Then we took a two-hour walk through the jungle to reach a second village on the other side. The views and the flora and fauna were exquisite and we were all very happy to be walking in nature instead of driving quickly around it in our jeeps.

As we approached the second village, I took a look around and marveled at the beautiful scenery. “Do the villagers ever travel to other parts of India?” I asked Ajay. “They do, but only to neighbouring villages when they marry into different tribes.” he quickly replied. “In that case,” I said, shaking my head and once again gasping at the beauty of the terraced rice paddies, lakes and the tree covered volcanic cinder cones behind them, “they must think the whole world looks like this!” I couldn’t help wondering if it might lighten their load if they knew how lucky they were to breathe in this fresh air and have such a beautiful piece of this earth to call home.

… We were met by a very interesting looking man with dreadlocks tied in a bun on his head, who it turned out, was the tribal spiritual leader. He walked with us through the village and at the end of our tour, gathered all of the women and children into a central area. He then performed a tribal dance while they accompanied him with their singing. As we left the village they all gathered to bid us farewell with a wave and a smile.

 

… When we walked into the village, we happened on a Bonda tribal elder being fitted with all of her traditional jewelry. Some of the Bonda women’s identifying attributes are their large wooden earrings, heavy neck and wrist bangles, shaved heads and beaded headdresses. We were told that only the elders of the tribe still follow these traditions, and we saw for ourselves that the young married women and their female children were dressed in modern Indian saris. When we crossed to the other side of the village, we saw a large group of villagers dressed in traditional garb (men and women), preparing for a performance. We assembled to one side of the open space and were treated to an amazing traditional dance performance. The women had large peacock broom like props and the men played traditional instruments. At one point in the proceedings, Marc was invited to join in, and before long many of us were up dancing. It gave us an opportunity to participate and enjoy our interaction with these people and their traditions, although we were quite aware that they only don these beautiful costumes for very special occasions — and to please westerners.

… The first thing we saw was a woman sitting on the floor with a basket of silk cocoons, pulling a thin thread, and rolling it on her bare oiled thigh in a soothing rhythm onto a spindle. Behind her was a man sitting at a loom, weaving the beginnings of a full-length sari. This was a co-operative village of weavers who spin, die and weave their own fabric. We walked through the village to see how the whole process worked from start to finish. As we experienced in Varanasi, hand weaving of fine intricately patterned cloth is a painstaking and extremely time-consuming craft. At the end of our visit we were served the obligatory chai tea and presented with the finished products for our viewing (and purchasing) pleasure. I already have three scarves in my bursting travel bag, but I couldn’t leave without a tangible memory of these people and their handiwork.

Each time I wear my beautiful olive and black silk/cotton blend scarf, I will remember the small woman sitting in lotus position rhythmically pulling natural fibres out of a cocoon, that would later be dyed specifically for the pattern in my scarf. And even more incredibly, another member of this tribe would then thread the loom and work for days sitting behind it to complete this beautifully designed and carefully crafted piece of fabric.

… The members of this tribe use a wax relief method to create intricate metal folk art originally used for ceremonial purposes. Typically the subjects would have been animals such as cows, elephants or goats. These sculptures would be left on ceremonial altars as kind of a perpetual sacrifice. Over time, the sculptures became popular with tourists and they widened their focus to include some jewelry and other folk art pieces. I tried very hard to find something small to buy, but everything was just too heavy. I was so intrigued with watching the process of how they make these works of art, that I completely forgot to take photos. Internet to the rescue, I have found some examples!

… We walked into a thatched roofed building and found several men sitting next to what looked like a wagon wheel with an axle. But lined up beside each wheel were rows of drying pots so we soon realized that they must have been potting wheels. The thick wooden dowel in the middle (the thing that looked like an axle) fit into a hole in the ground and by manually grabbing onto each of the spokes in the wheel and getting momentum going, the wheel began spinning like a top. One of the villagers offered to show us how a pot was made and we were mesmerized as he opened a large black bag and grabbed a large handful of dark clay. He kneaded it a few times to get all of the air bubbles out and threw it on his spinning wheel. Within minutes the lump of clay transformed into a large perfectly shaped vessel. His hands and a leaf were used to perfect the lip of the vessel and a wire was used to cut free the completed pot from the spinning wheel. Ajay translated as the man explained that they take orders from other villages, for both ceremonial vessels and day-to-day kitchen and cooking ware. As we left we admired the rows of pots drying with new admiration after watching how they were made from the clay these men gathered themselves and prepared.

… We walked down to the edge of the marsh and seated ourselves in two canoe-like boats, each steered by a man with a bamboo pole and accompanied by a local bird watching guide. For an hour we glided through the Mangalajodi nature reserve viewing the largest number of birds we have ever seen in one place (My camera is not good at capturing wildlife but you can take my word for it that we saw hundreds of birds every minute!) The most spectacular part of this place was that until recently it was known as “poachers village”. Through the help of an organization called Wild Orissa, the “poachers” have been trained as bird watching guides and now make their living through tourism rather than killing birds. Normally the lake hosts over 150,000 birds of 200 species during the peak season of which at least 80 are migratory birds. It felt like we saw all of them in one short hour. This was our last experience in the tribal area and it was a wonderful way to experience the nature and tranquility of, as Ajay describes it, the soul of India.

Riding the rails

The next leg of our trip has begun. For the last three days we have been riding the rails, making our way to the highlight of this part of our trip — Orissa Tribal areas. Tomorrow we will be picked up by our local guide and we hope three fairly comfortable SUV 4-wheel drive vehicles.

In the mean time we have thoroughly enjoyed our three rides on the train. Our journeys have taken us to towns none of us can pronounce or remember. They are not on any tourist itinerary, and we have been the only Westerners in sight on the train platforms or in the towns themselves. This always makes for interesting interactions with the local people. The first question out of their mouths is always "where are you from?" After a few sentences we are bonded. When they move on in line or leave the station they always give one of us a tap on the shoulder to get our attention and wave goodbye. There is always an opportunity for a photo and their giggles as they look at themselves in my camera. This happens over and over again, but it never really gets old. A small connection with the local population that takes very little effort, but feels really good.

Interestingly, as we move closer to the tribal areas, the cities seem to be more developed, cleaner and more Western. We continue to be surprised by the many faces of this country. We just had dinner in a beautiful mall offering a full food court (including Subway and Baskin Robbins), Pizza Hut and KFC. The shops were like in any mall. Clothing stores with both Western and Indian fashion, an Indian version of Future Shop and really anything you would find in the West. We are always ready for a break from Indian food, so even Pizza Hut feels like a gourmet meal!

I think we have one more night in civilization and then we are off on a great adventure visiting local markets, meeting the tribal people, viewing their handicrafts and seeing how they live. This part of the trip was meant to be all wild camping. But the truck is still in customs somewhere in India so Al has arranged hotels for us. It will mean a bit more driving, but hopefully we will still feel immersed in the tribal life for five days wandering off the beaten track.

I am not expecting to have any internet while in The Orissa area, but you never know. They may not be as unplugged as we are!