From: matchowr@nuscc.nus.sg (Chow Richard (Dr))
Subject: Travelogue: India-Nepal, Part 1
Organization: National University of Singapore
X-Newsreader: Tin 1.1 PL4
Date: Tue, 12 Jan 1993 00:48:52 GMT

I had posted this to soc.culture.india, but somebody pointed out
that I actually should be posting to soc.culture.indian.

This is the first part of a travelogue of a recent trip of mine
to India and Nepal.  I don't know when I'll get the energy to
write parts 2-4.  Any comments or questions are welcome.

Richard Chow
matchowr@nuscc.nus.sg

----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Trip to India and Nepal, Oct-Nov 1992
----------------------------------------------------------------------------


Monday, Oct. 26th
-----------------

My travelling companion, Dr. Man Shing Hing, and I left Singapore for Calcutta 
at around 9 PM.  We were on the maiden voyage of Air India's Singapore-
Calcutta-Bombay flight.  Man had some stomach discomfort after eating some 
curry chicken at the airport.  I didn't think this was a good omen for a 
trip to India, a country famed for causing stomach problems!

Perhaps some background is in order.  Man and I are both lecturers in 
mathematics at the National University of Singapore, both 27 years old, 
and both healthy and reasonably fit at the time we left.  I am an American 
by birth, and Man is from Hong Kong with most of his years spent in London.  
Our plan, such as it was, consisted in travelling from Calcutta to Bombay 
in about three weeks, hopefully seeing Darjeeling, Kathmandu, the Taj Mahal, 
and Rajasthan.  We planned to travel low- to mid-budget, spending around
US$10-20 per day.

I spent most of the four-hour flight flipping through Lonely Planet's India
travel guide, a resource which proved invaluable during the course of the 
trip.  As soon as I stepped off the plane, I took a deep breath and instantly
grimaced.  The pollution here was terrible.  I've lived in Los Angeles for 
many years and visited Bangkok, but the air here was the worst by far that 
I'd ever experienced.  There were about fifteeen people on the whole flight, 
most of whom were continuing to Bombay, so customs was very short.  In fact, 
it seemed like the two of us were the only people going through customs.   
The dingy Calcutta Airport (called Dum Dum Airport!) was quite a change from 
shiny, spotless Changi Airport in Singapore.  

Stepping out of customs, we were immediately surrounded by our first throng 
of Indian touts.  "Taxi, sir?" "Hotel, cheap..."  "Change money?"  Even 
having been warned beforehand, the persistence and sliminess of these people 
is at first shocking.  After a few days we just ignored them and accepted 
them as part of the ritual of travelling in India.  But for this initial 
encounter it was about 11PM, and the whole airport seemed shut down except 
for these touts who were shouting out ridiculous prices to bring us to town.  
We were getting more and more uncomfortable with the situation and finally 
agreed to pay 130 rupees to be taken to Sudder Street, the destination 
suggested by Lonely Planet as the place to look for cheap accomodation.  
Of course the person who struck this bargain with us took us to somebody 
else who became the actual driver.  This pattern recurred many 
times during the trip: the Indians who could communicate somewhat in English 
would cooperate with the others for a commission.  

The trip to town made me wonder even more what I had gotten myself into.  
Before reaching the city the only things I could make out were occasional 
silhouettes of people squatting near open fires and ruins of old stone 
buildings.  This setting was what I always imagined the last stages of the 
decay of some once-great civilization would be like.  As we neared the city, 
people became more plentiful, indeed crowds sometimes blocked the streets.  
We had come during the Deepavali celebration, which for me soon came to be 
remembered for its loud, jolting fireworks.  Upon arriving in Sudder Street, 
we found most places locked up, but luckily we bumped into a traveller who 
took us to the place she was staying at which had a room available for 90 
rupees.  She warned us that the place was "_very_ basic".  I had to agree.
The room had just enough space for two hard cots; it was a problem to
find someplace to put the luggage.  Two huge rats galloped past as we went
to the room.  I must have been shell-shocked at this point because the rats 
didn't bother me at all.


Tuesday, October 27
-------------------

All the horrors of India supposedly come to a head in Calcutta.
Well, after our first full day in the city I can only say that I hoped
that statement was true... 

The morning we spent mostly walking around, getting train tickets
and switching accomodations.   By day, Calcutta seemed, well, as Man 
put it, "just a slum".  More often than not, buildings were gloomy and 
decayed.  The streets were unswept and lined with trash.  There
were a few men going around with wheelbarrows picking up the trash,
but in order to make a difference an army would have been necessary.
People in India think nothing of throwing trash onto the street.
Coming from Singapore, Man and I would search longer than most for a 
trash bin.  However, unsuccessful much of the time, we would have to gingerly
set our trash down on the street, almost expecting to be scolded by
passersby.  

Of course I had heard of people sleeping on the streets in Calcutta, but 
I had not fully realized that for these people living on the streets was 
a way of life and not just a temporary hardship.  Almost all had sleeping 
mats and sheets from which they constructed body-bags, encapsulating them 
head-to-toe.  In the morning these cocoons were everywhere.  On most blocks 
there was a communal water pump whose main use in the morning seemed to be 
to provide water for bathing.  People bathed in the streets with buckets,
half-clothed.  Beggars I had expected also, but their diligence astounded me.
When refused, they would sometimes follow us for blocks, touching our arms 
insistently and mouthing some refrain, such as "no mamma, no pappa, no mamma, 
no pappa,...".  They were such a nuisance at times that I would have loved 
to have given them a few rupees just to get rid of them, but I knew that to 
encourage them would be worse for them in the long run.  

As a parenthetical comment, I found one of the most disturbing aspects of India 
to be the juxtaposition of these street people and those living obviously 
more comfortable lives.  Most of the Indians that I met and spoke to during 
my trip could seemingly have been from anywhere in the world.  They were 
immaculately dressed and well-educated; in fact, many spoke perfect English.  
And yet their cities are shared with people who are incredibly impoverished.

The simple act of street-crossing was a mini-adventure each time.  Imagine 
every sort of vehicle conceivable, from cars to buses to bicycle rickshaws 
to auto-rickshaws to cows to bicycles to motorcycles, all maniacally trying 
to pass or squeeze by each other in a haze of pollution.  Compounding matters
was a total lack of traffic lights in Calcutta.

We ate lunch at an upscale Indian restaurant, Kathleen's, near Sudder
Street for about 60 rupees each (about $2).  It was quite decent,
and I would recommend it.

In the afternoon we went to the Indian Museum, supposedly the best
museum in India.  In trying to get tickets I learned Rule #1 for
queuing in India:  There is no such thing.  A crowd of people was 
jammed around the ticket window, all shoving money at the poor ticket 
seller who usually took the money of the most insistent.  After standing 
behind this ever changing crowd for a while, I discovered that I too 
could "aggressively queue".  I found the museum somewhat interesting, 
but very dilapidated by Western standards.  What I remember most were 
jars and jars of odd spices, grains, and seeds. 

After the museum we decided to walk around a bit and promptly had our most
unpleasant experience in Calcutta.  The streets were fairly crowded
with people, but a tall Indian wearing a bright yellow shirt stuck
out a little.  After walking for a while I noticed the same Indian still
a little behind us.  I suspected he might be following us, so we
stopped.  He stopped.  We moved on.  He moved on.  Now fairly certain
that we were being followed for whatever reason, we stopped into a
store for a while.  He was waiting for us when we came out.  We finally 
lost him by crossing the street.  Indian traffic is good for something 
after all!  In retrospect I'm sure we were probably followed by others
at various times.  We just hadn't noticed.  After this incident we basically 
wanted to leave Calcutta as soon as we could; luckily we had booked a 
couple berths on the train to Siliguri the next day. 


Wednesday, October 28
---------------------

In the morning we went on a half-day bus tour run by the governmental
tourist bureau.  The tour took us to many of the major tourist
attractions of Calcutta (Belur Math, the Victoria Memorial, the 
Jain temple, and numerous other temples I've forgotten the names of)
as well as for a drive through parts of Calcutta on the other side
of the Hooghly River.  The tours are taken mostly by Indians from other 
parts of India and so are necessarily in English.  I found it quite a 
good way to see a lot in a short time except that near the end I suffered 
from the common Indian traveller's ailment of being "templed out".  
Footwear is not allowed inside the temple areas, so we spent some 
time walking the streets of Calcutta barefoot.  I was a little uneasy 
about this practice at first, but many of the natives do it, so soon 
it became one of those "When in Rome..." things.

I had a better impression of Calcutta today.  Perhaps I had gotten
used to the city a little more or perhaps it was the fact that I had
a ticket for a train to Siliguri that evening.

For lunch we went to the Oberoi Hotel for their Indian buffet.  It 
cost an amazing amount by Indian standards, 200 rupees = US$7 each, but 
in my opinion it was the best meal of the trip.  Besides a huge 
number of Indian dishes, both Northern and Southern, there was a chef 
to make fresh masala dosas upon request, a varied Indian sweets 
table, and a good fruit selection, from which, for only the second 
time in my life, I had one of those fruits which resemble a large 
hand-grenade (what are they called??).  We shared the place with 
just a few well-to-do Indians, so the service couldn't have been better.  
The staff was quite helpful in recommending certain dishes and
explaining how to eat various things.  We lingered for a couple hours, 
glad for a respite from the streets of Calcutta.

We decided to go very early to Sealdah Railway Station, having heard
much about Indian train stations and not knowing what to expect.
Overall, I found less chaos than I expected.  It's true that hundreds
seemed to be camped out around and inside the station and that the
station itself seemed filled with dozens of long lines, but there
is little of the mad movement and people congestion that can be found
in, say, Grand Central Station in NYC.  We found the first class waiting 
room to be OK, if a bit decrepit.   We had dinner at the station 
cafeteria, which, while not very tasty, did not later seem to cause any 
digestive problems.  I was beginning to realize that at times all that one 
wanted from a meal in India are no problems the next day.  This meal was my 
first encounter with the Indian habit of always serving toast pre-buttered.  
For the remainder of the trip I always emphasized that I wanted my toast 
unbuttered.  My success rate was about 50-50.

The train ride in first class was quite pleasant: clean, comfortable, and
even somewhat interesting.  At stops boys would come onto the train and 
haul tea, coffee, and snacks through the compartments.   We shared our 
compartment with a young Indian couple and two English women, one of whom was 
unemployed.  Conditions in the UK may have given the Indian tourism
industry a boost, since we were to meet quite a few travellers from 
England during our trip, many of whom were taking advantage of their
temporary unemployment to give India a go. 

Sleeping arrangements were fairly comfortable although a bit chilly from
the overzealous air-conditioner.  Sheets and blankets could be rented
for 10 rupees.


Thursday, October 29
--------------------

We arrived in Siliguri around 9 AM.  Siliguri is used by most
travellers as a departure point for Darjeeling or Sikkim; there
is not really much to see or do in Siliguri itself.  Our original 
plan was to take the highly recommended (at least by Lonely Planet)  
"toy train" to Darjeeling, a 7 1/2 hour ride through the Indian Himalayas. 
Upon arrival, however, we found the toy train to be only two 
or three small cars which were all hopelessly crowded.  So, 
we, together with a group of young English travellers, decided 
to hire a taxi to Darjeeling.  

At the Siliguri station, as in many places in India,  the Indian 
transportation touts outnumbered their potential customers by 
over 5-to-1.  Consequently, as soon as it became known that
we were looking for transportation, we were surrounded with Indians 
offering us all manners of transportation out of Siliguri.  Bicycle- 
and auto-rickshaw drivers wanted to take us to the Siliguri bus station; 
taxi, jeep, and van drivers offered to take us all the way to Darjeeling.  
One English girl assumed the role of our spokesperson and bargained 
the price of a taxi down to 500 rupees fairly easily.  We were still 
not happy with that price, but nobody seemed to want to go lower.  
Finally, one driver said that he would do it for 475.  The crowd 
instantly turned on the poor guy, shoving him and yelling at him.  
I think the unfortunate fellow had gone below some sort of lower 
price agreed upon by (supposedly) all the taxi drivers.  Luckily, 
at some point in our negotiations, we were approached by a group of 
three or four Indian families from Bombay on holiday who wanted to 
hire a bus to Darjeeling but needed some more people.  We accepted 
their offer even though we had to wait about an hour for them to 
actually get the bus from somewhere else.  So we spent the next 
hour watching the touts arguing among themselves,  sometimes being 
approached by one or two who would claim that our bus would never 
arrive or perhaps only come after several hours and that we might 
as well go with them if we wanted to save some time.  If this had 
been my first day in India, I might have even believed them for 
about five seconds.

On the bus ride up to Darjeeling we seemed slowly transported to 
almost another country, very different from the India we had seen
so far.  The pollution and the heat of Siliguri slowly receded as
we ascended the Indian Himalayas and soon the views of the valleys
and lower mountain ranges were splendid.  For the first time on
the trip I felt relaxed and was enjoying myself.  One of the Indian 
women on the bus scolded us: "What were you doing in Calcutta?  You 
don't go to the big cities in India.  There's nothing to see.  You 
should go to the smaller towns and the hill stations like Mt. Abu 
and Darjeeling."  We could only say, "We didn't know...."  

The road from Siliguri to Darjeeling is actually side-by-side with 
the track for the toy train much of the way, so scenery turns out to 
be the same no matter how one travels from Siliguri to Darjeeling.  
A bus or taxi is much faster, taking only 3 1/2 hours, but the ride 
on the toy train is a little more romantic.  I should say that the 
ride by bus or taxi to Darjeeling is another example of Indian driving 
at its best and most exciting -- definitely not for the fainthearted.  
Blind turns are taken at a ridiculous speed, with horns blaring to 
warn oncoming vehicles.   Nobody else seemed too worried about our 
safety, so after a while I relaxed.  Still, I think there is reason 
for some concern, as evidenced by signs placed periodically along 
the road with charming sayings such as: "Better to be 10 minutes late 
in this world than 10 minutes earlier in the next."

We could sometimes peer into people's living rooms, so close are the 
houses to the road.  Most of the people, however, were outside, almost 
always smiling and waving as we sped past.  As we climbed higher, I 
was surprised at one point to notice a family which looked distinctly 
Chinese.  Soon, it seemed that most of the people we saw on the roadside 
had lost their Indian appearances; they had become more fair-skinned 
and less hirsute.  

Darjeeling, it turned out, is an interesting combination of Indians, 
Tibetans, and Nepalese.  The appearance of the Nepalese struck me as 
sort of halfway between those of the Indians and Tibetans.  Tibetans 
are basically indistinquishable from Chinese, while Nepalese, who perhaps 
would also have trouble sporting a beard, are generally darker and have 
rounder eyes.  Because of all of these different ethnicities living in 
one place and the multitude of tourists from parts of India in which 
the local Indian dialect, Bengali, is not spoken, English has become 
the common language.  Everybody can communicate to some degree in
English, and many of the people we talked with, especially students, 
spoke fluently with a pleasant melodic accent.

We arrived in Darjeeling in the early afternoon.  The first order of 
business was finding a room.  Walking around town with our bags, we 
soon attracted the attention of a young Indian accomodation tout.  Some 
hotels will pay a commission to touts who bring clients to them, and 
raise the cost of a room accordingly.  We refused any help from the tout, 
but he followed us around town anyway, hoping to collect some unearned 
commission.  We just ignored him and after a while found a room in the 
Tara Hotel, informing the friendly Tibetan landlady that our tout, 
who had still been hounding us, had nothing to do with bringing us to 
the Tara.  Our tout protested, but a little sheepishly, I would say.  
We saw our tout a couple days later on the street.  He greeted us with 
a smile and a "Hello, brother!".  The people of Darjeeling have to be 
one of the most cheerful people I've ever met.

The Tara was a little rough but would do for at least one night.  
Many of the better places were full; it seems that we had come 
during one of the peak tourist seasons in Darjeeling.  After 
October-November the weather turns a little cold, and before 
October is the monsoon season when clouds obscure the Himalayas and 
there are heavy rains.

Our first stop was the tourist office, where we found two
immensely helpful and knowledgeable ladies.  They were able 
to take care of booking us on a tour to Tiger Hill and of
arranging transportation for us to Kathmandu, as well as
offering plenty of good advice on what to see around town.
We spent the remainder of the afternoon wandering around.
Most of central Darjeeling occupies one side of a 2000 meter 
high mountain ridge.  Chowrasta, the town square, is built on this 
ridge, and is a scenic place to shop, people-watch, or nature-watch.
On the little streets leading into Chowrasta, streetside stalls
are set up daily by cheerful Tibetans who sell knick-knacks, sweaters, 
saris, jewellery, thankas, etc.  

We could not believe the prices for thick, attractive wool sweaters: 
$4-5.  No wonder all the natives were dressed in them.  We instantly 
envisionioned buying 20-30 sweaters (or "jumpers", as Man insisted on 
calling them.  Englishmen...).  But what would we do with them in 
Singapore?  Still, a couple days later I finally couldn't resist 
buying a particularly nice version.  Maybe I'll actually be able to 
wear it someday....  Later on in the trip we found that cheap sweaters 
are also available in Kathmandu, where, apparently, people buy them 
up, ship them back to England or wherever, and resell them for a huge profit.

Around dusk we stopped for a snack in the very conveniently located
Star Dust Restaurant, a popular south Indian restaurant on the 
border of Chowrasta.  The Star Dust's food was judged to be only mediocre by 
Lonely Planet's travel guide (which had become our Bible by this point), 
but I found the masala dosa I ordered quite satisfactory.  Besides,
the scenery around the Star Dust makes it a pleasant place to sit for a while.
In addition to being able to keep an eye on activities in the square,
the stars can indeed be seen to advantage from Star Dust's open-air
section.  The clear Darjeeling air and the lack of artificial lighting
(which I'll write about below) seems to make them multiply ten-fold 
and perhaps even move a few parsecs closer.  Also, the Star Dust is 
situated right on the edge of the ridge Chowrasta sits upon, so on 
one side is a series of sparsely populated hills and valleys beyond 
which one can see Sikkim.  It's not surprising that every day that 
we were in Darjeeling we found an excuse to sit for a while at the Star Dust.

I remember a couple days before going on the trip I called Man and asked, 
"Hey, do you have a flashlight?" 
"No... why?"
"Well, Lonely Planet says we need one (along with mosquito repellent, etc.)"
"What for??  Don't they have lights??  It's not like we're going camping!"
"Well, I don't know....  It just says we need one."
"OK, OK, I'll get one for us..."

Well, after leaving the Star Dust we found that my faith in the Bible 
was not misplaced.  It turns out that there is no electricity in the 
city after sunset. I'm not exactly sure why, although perhaps it's just 
the prohibitive cost of channeling electricity up from the plains.  
When night falls the Tibetan street merchants resort to oil lamps, 
while most shops and hotels generally use their own small generators, 
the brightness of the light usually being directly proportional to the 
cost of the establishment.  Nighttime in Darjeeling did feel a little 
like a huge campground, but I didn't really mind.  In fact, I quite 
enjoyed the atmosphere of early-evening Darjeeling.  Some restaurants 
became candlelit; one night we had to use our flashlight to read the menu. 

We ended up wandering about in the crowded streets and browsing in
a few shops before and after eating dinner.  The streets are not lit 
at all so it was strange for me to see so many people moving about 
in the near darkness.  By about 9PM, however, the streets are more or 
less deserted as most people in Darjeeling sleep early to take advantage 
of the daylight hours.  We decided to follow suit.  As we walked to
our hotel, we watched the Tibetan street merchants pack their wares
into huge cloth sacks and start to carry them home on foot.  These
sacks were about the size of a full size mattress, if it were
possible to roll up a full size mattress.  In Darjeeling people carried 
large loads not by delicately balancing them on their heads, as in 
Calcutta, but by trudging bent over almost perpendicularly with the load 
on their backs held by a strap around the forehead.  The effort involved 
would seem to be tremendous, but many of the merchants are women, and 
they have to carry these loads on a daily basis for many kilometers up 
and down the mountains.  I know I was impressed.

Xref: sparky soc.culture.indian:42813 soc.culture.pakistan:19154