Top of the hill

December 11 2015 - Guwahati

It's amazing what 11 hours of sleep, a long hot shower and a Club sandwich can do for my spirits. I feel a bit like a very old song, about a letter home from camp – Hello Mudda. Hello Fadda – where the child writes how awful it is at camp for the whole song and the last line the sun comes out and everything is perfect. With the last line being “Mudda, Fadder, please disregard this letter”. So kindly disregard the previous letter. I know I should expect a low part of the trip, but still am surprised when it hits me.

After a nice breakfast that did not include any curry or cayenne I spoke with the concierge who tracked down a taxi for me and I was again on the tourist trail. A nice little white Fiat running with that little emergency spare as it's right rear tire. A guy who spoke hardly a word of English but knew the town. With instructions from the concierge we sped off at tortoise speed. This guy was absolutely sane in his driving. I felt like he just got his learners permit. Every turn was signaled, pedestrians were allowed to pass in front. Lanes were respected and not once in 3 hours did he honk the horn. I'm mentally going – Pass this truck! The oncoming drivers will pull over a bit – Go faster around this curve. Honk your horn so they know you are coming – That idiot on the left is in our way, lay on the horn ! --- I may have been paying attention to how to drive in India for my own good.

We drove through the railway center on the way to the first temple. I never saw a train, but all the houses with wire fences were using lengths of railroad track as stanchions. Talk about over kill.

The bike trishaws each and everyone has one of the three wheels that wobbles. Only one and it generally is the one that is closest to traffic. They must be the Rodney Dangerfield of vehicles and get no respect.

There was an advertisement on a pole for “Homely stay for girls”.

The first temple was at the tippy top of the tallest hill in town and it was pretty a pretty tall hill. There were a million steps leaving from the valley floor up to the temple. Please, oh, please let there be a road up there. Because if there is not, I'm not going. Not without supplemental oxygen and a defibrillator. There was a road all the way to the top, Thank, Krishna.

I wish I knew more about what I was seeing, because this one was interesting. Many of the big temple I've visited, here and there, would make Jesus go bonkers. You think he got grumpy with the money changers, this temple was lined for a block and a half with kiosks selling geegaws as offerings and souvenirs. Golden plastic stuff, flowers, candles, pictures for the wall and so it went. Booth after booth.

Some old hippie guru, only the real thing, gave me holy hell for stepping in the wrong spot with shoes on. I thought the demarcation for shoes vs. no shoes was marble. Guess it's concrete sometimes too. Fires and smoke, lots of fires and smoke. Some like big campfires and some small clay shot glass sized candles. Then there was the big fire, near what looked like a corpse sized covered object, with fresh flowers on top. That made me enough uncomfortable that I didn't need to photograph it.

Then were were all the cute baby goats, staked out here and there. I saw one guy leading a goat and the goat had all four wheels locked up and was skidding along the marble behind the man. I don't know what was going to happen to the goat, but I think the goat did.

Big baskets of pigeons were for sale. I mimed are these for eating of flying. The guy looked at me like I was a Martian. A passerby mimed the birds flying. Okay, buy the bird, give it all your troubles and set it free to fly your troubles away. Later I watched a man do exactly that. He grasped the bird in both hands tossed it high in the air, the bird flapped it's wings and flew directly back to the basket it was pulled from. I don't want to say scam, but something wasn't right with that picture.

Everyone seemed very, very happy. Lots of smiles and quite a number of people wanting to talk. In order to get to one particular, obviously popular, temple you had to enter what I can only describe as cattle chutes. 100 feet long, wide enough for two people shoulder to shoulder and completely enclosed similar to a walkway inmates might be escorted through on the way to court. Once you were in, and the door behind was actually padlocked you were stuck there cheek to jowl until the front was unlocked and you were escorted to the next waiting area. There were six of these as near as I could tell. For 50 Rupees (75 cents +/-) you could bypass the first four. In one of them as I passed the people smiles and really wave, they were so happy, it was contagious.

As I said in the beginning, I didn't understand a bit of what I was seeing but I had a good time seeing it.

Next stop was supposed to be another temple. This one involved a ferry, and from previous posts you know that ferry means here and then a small climb to the top of an island. Rough mental calculation said this was a 2 to 3 hour temple for something I wouldn't understand. I passed on this bit of fun.

To the top of another hill to the temple of the nine planets. This one didn't look like much from the outside. Newer in concrete, but not kept up very well. Of course, in this one I got latched on to by a hanger arounder who would be my guide. The temple was like a very large round bee hive, in the center were little fires around the room, each representing a different planet, with the earth and moon in the center of the room. Pluto was not represented though. I don't know who the 9^th planet was. Maybe it was the L. Ron Hubbard planet that the Scientology believe in. It was so dark I the room that even with a large door to the outside, and standing in the darkness for five minutes, my eyes never did adapt enough so I could see anything other tan the fires.

The next temple we stopped at was what I think of as the Temple Of “No”. Big signs in front, No shoes of any type. Even children's sandals. No photography. If you lose your shoe ticket it will cost 20 Rupees. If you want to be blessed, Guru So-and-so will be here between 10 and 11 am and will bless you for 100 Rupees. For 350 Rupees you could approach the altar of a particular god or goddess. It was a bigger scam than the flipping pigeon.

So a little after 3 pm and back at the hotel. Think I'll look at pictures from today and figure out which ones to attach to this, maybe a slight power nap and then dinner. Life is good, today.

Now I remember why I said I'd never do India agin

December 10^th – Someplace that starts with Guw, in Assam. (Guwahati)

I'll remember the name by next time I make an entry. This is just going to be a page of bitching and no photos. It might be better to skip this entirely.

I am so tired. At the hotel's cafe, just to get some food in me before I hit the 600 thread count.

We were supposed to leave at 5 am to make it out of Darjeeling before the 6 am strike. I don't know what would have happened if we were on the road when the strike happened. If the SUV would have just stopped on it's own accord or there would be barriers on the road, or Bavin would just accept it and pull over. Fortunately we didn't get a chance to find out.

At dinner last night the manager of the hotel came over and said he would have someone pick up my luggage at 4 am. I corrected him that I would like a wake up call then and leave at five. He got this look on his face and said that wouldn't work out so well. It was too late and we'd get caught in the strike. I gave him Bavin's phone number. After a bit he came back and said we were leaving at 4:30. So at 3:30 my day started. It was especially early, since I didn't sleep that well, worrying if the wake up call would come and that darned hot water bottle being a surprise every time I rolled in that direction. No hot water, so no shower, just push clothes into whatever bag is handy, and sort it all out later.

The Jeep was waiting when I got down those 75 steps for the last time. He had his wife with him for this trip. She was going with him down to his parent's place. She was going to wash clothes because they would dry down the mountain, where up they would take forever. He was going to visit and get the Jeep washed. Seemed like a lost cause to me, since he wiped it off yesterday and it was already in a layer of dust. Whatever. He said in the evening after the strike abated he hoped to pick up a paying straggler and take them back up the hill.

There was almost no traffic on the roads that time of day. Thee or four SUV's moving tourists, a water truck and two lorries going down. About the same going up. What took three and a half hours up at peak time, took an hour and thirty-five going down at dark, dark thirty.

Where I had been afraid of falling off a cliff going up, I didn’t worry a bit about. What you can't see can't hurt you, right? Except for the headlights it was pitch black off to the sides. My new found concern was head on collision with one of the very few other vehicles on the rood. Hey would just appear out of nowhere. Bright undimmed bulbs, narrow road, sound of gravel under our tires, wondering if we were off the road sufficiently, then blackness as my eyes tried to recover from the blinding onslaught of that high beams. When I first got in the SUV reached for the shoulder belt and he said “No, not needed”. I went along with that stupidity for about two cars worth of driving. Now my white shirt had a dust brown stripe on it from left shoulder and across my boob.

Since Wi-Fi was only a dream while on the mountain for me, I was looking for ward to the hotel by the airport he promised me. A place to catch up on the missed sleep and to reconnect with the world. AND to print out my boarding pass and hard copy of my hotel's reservation. He drives down this Any street, Any town India. It is lined with shops, car repair places, telephone kiosks and then pulls up to a large metal gate and honks the horn. I am thinking it is your typical local hotel, a room, a bed, maybe a toilet and who knows what added attractions, none of them particularly appetizing. He assured me it was a good place and told me who the proprietors were. I had dined at one of their restaurants for a snack one afternoon and felt it was a good choice on his part. The gatekeeper open the gate and said they were full. Of course they were full, everybody left yesterday when they heard it was going to strike.

So now the option was a real local hotel or the airport. Give me the airport. We parted ways, I know I paid him, I'm not sure if I thanked him. The doors to the Departure Hall beckoned and at my approach was closed to me. Identification and boarding pass were required to cross that threshold. I only had one of those, the other was locked away in inaccessible world wide web. The door dragon said he understood my plight, but the wicked witch said None Shall Pass without two pieces of reformed wood.

What time does the IndiGo window open up? Nine am. Only two hours to wait. “Is there any way to ….. ?”. Then a man came up and started asking the cop questions. I said something like “We were talking here”, he said “This is important”. After he got his question answered he went back and sat down. Ya, important to YOU ! This is getting better and better. After an hour I needed to pee, where is the only bathroom this side of Darjeeling? In the departures hall, but you knew that. I told the cop that I'd leave my passport with him if I could just enter for that one chore. He begrudgingly let me with a finger point and “Straight!” command. The one good thing that has happened so far today is that it was a western toilet and no one had pee'd on the seat – yet.

Back on the street I sat and twiddled and wandered until a light shone through yonder ticket office. The woman said that my plane wasn't due to leave until 3:25. I told her that I was well aware of that, but the dragon at the gate wouldn’t allow me the warmth of the castle fires without a some sort of paper. She said she understood and started typing. Then the man behind me actually leaned on me to get to the hole you talk through. I physically pushed him back. He said “It is business”, I said “It might be business, but you don't need to conduct it ON me”. She looked up and smiled. Not sure if it was a pity smile or and understanding smile. Then she asked if I wanted to upgrade to an extra leg room seat. It was only a 40 minute flight, but I knew it would take half that to process and Mr. Lean On Me would really steam if I said yes. So I said “Yes, please.” For ten bucks it was worth it, and I'm not talking about the legroom. As I stepped away from the window the leaner said, “Is it okay if I go now?” I don't think he was looking for an answer. His business at the window took less than a minute, if e would had asked I probably would have yielded to him.

With paper in hand the moat was raised and I was allowed to enter the sumptuousness that is second or third world airline terminals. Only four hours until I could start the check in process. Too tired to read. Too brain foggy to do crosswords. Too uncomfortable to sleep. Some way time passed. Then it was time to get the checked luggage x-rayed and the zippers sort of zip tied with security ties, to prevent tampering.

Next came the line to get the actual boarding pass. When I started the x-ray process this particular line was short. Now I had my luggage safely zip tied the line was long. I made it to my penultimate spot in line. Yes, I was next. I had made it and I hadn't even punched out the man who was behind me and kept bumping his airport trolly into the back of my heels, even though I had pointedly pushed it back thrice. The men at the counter were business types and then another one pressed past and joined them, and then came a fourth. He, I squawked at. He asked if he could go, and I said “Certainly”. He was the first man to think it a privilege and not a right to be exactly where he wanted when he wanted. The ticket agent said my luggage was 2 kilos over weight. The same luggage I had carried on two previous flights on the same airline without any problem. That will be $10 please. Well at least it wasn't like that Delta agent who charged me a Benjamin for being 5 pounds over. Okay, here is your 500 Rupees. No, Ma'am you must go over there to pay it. - over there was the first window I had encountered in the morning.

This step went pretty easy. Give her the AMEX and signed then back to line, which of course grew. I waited for my turn and instead of giving the man before me Indian personal space, meaning none. I gave him American personal space of a couple feet. The second he stepped away from the counter, and I mean he hadn't taken a second step, the man behind me said “You can move up now.”. The flight left in 2 hours and my 5 second delay was going to cost him if I didn’t get a move on.

I think that is enough bitching for now. I got on the plane, it took off and it landed. My expensive luggage made it to the same place was. The taxi got me to the Radisson. Hot water. No parka necessary for dinner, and communication with the rest of the world (even if no one from home wrote me).

I came here to go to a national park to see the one horned Rhino, maybe ride an elephant in the jungle and hopefully see a tiger. The park is about 150 miles from here, which means 2 ½ hours, right? No, it means 7 hours. So one day shot getting there, and another getting back here. It is the weekend, so all the decent places are booked, unless I want to pay the travel desk nearly $700 for the trip, plus extra for the second day in the jungle. I decided that I'd stay near Wi-Fi and hot water for a two days and see what the local area has to offer.

F-A-D !!!!

Wednesday December 9^th 2015 – Darjeeling

Dinner was the same'ish as the previous evening and probably will be tonight. A soup, this time cilantro, lemon. The Minestrone was better. A couple cold vegetable salads. A bunch of stuff in brown stuff and some other stuff in red stuff. The same chicken stuff as the previous night, but this time it got to share space with the rest of the table. I also had tap water. Yes I was living on the edge, and best of all, nothing happened.

I got back to my room about nine and I had a new addition to my room. The evening before I was in my jammies (read t-shirt only) reading and housekeeping knocked on the door several times. He yelled something and I said “No thank you” and he said “Okay”. Well tonight when I came in I noticed that the lighting had changed and in bed was a large plump red hot water bottle all snuggled down under the covers. That was probably what I 'No thank you’d to last night. It lived up to it's name too. It was hot! It stayed warm even until morning. For the first time in Darjeeling I actually felt almost too warm.

Yesterday's driver and I were supposed to meet if it was clear and drive to Tiger Hill to see the Himalayas. Seeing them was supposed to be one of the highlights of visiting Darjeeling. They had been obscured the entire time I've been here. If they were not viable then I was going to ride the Toy Train to Ghoom and back. Then maybe give the chairlift thing a go. At 530 I got out of bed and took a look. Clouds. Phooey.

World's third highest mountain - from my room

I got out of bed an hour later and pulled back the curtains. Fuck-A-Duck! Fuck-A-Duck! There they were all lit up in the morning's light. It was so excited. I scurried around the room muttering F-A-D (see above), F-A-D! Where did I put my camera? F-A-D! I have to catch this before the clouds return! Luckily the clouds stayed way. I hope the pictures translate just how awesome the view was from my room this morning.

Hot water things and then hot air things and some clothes and I was on my way down to breakfast. No one to visit with. Just me, the staff and half a dozen Indian men who looked military to me for some reason. I could see their breath as they talked, no wonder we were all wearing parkas for breakfast. Except for the monkey at the window, breakfast was normal in every respect. Immediately after a couple pieces of toast and some hot, but not good coffee I was in the lobby. The receptionist said my driver was waiting.

If I had know that I would have skipped toast and got something later. Tiger Hill is 10 miles past Ghoom. We are at 7000 feet here in Darjeeling, Ghoom is 7500 and Tiger Hill is 8500. Up and up. At the top of the hill the view was spectacular. When it is totally clear Mount Everest and Lhotse can be seen far to the west. Today it was just the Third highest mountain and it was looking good. Would have been better at sunrise, but woulda coulda.

WE drove back down the hill to Ghoom to visit a 'Three fer'. The memorial to the Indian Gurkha’s of WWII, the place where the toy train has to make a climbing 180 degree turn to gain elevation to get over the crest of the mountain and the WC. Toss in a little Himalaya gazing as well.

Hen on to a monastery that was built in 1850 and was really interesting. With murals that reminded me on those Chinese dragons. Buddha was surrounded by the same creatures on the altar. I would have taken a couple pictures inside, bu it was pretty dark and without a tripod I'd have to us a flash and that would ruin it totally. Maybe I'll find a picture on the web and inset a link to it.

I am staying at a hotel that promised Wi-Fi in the lobby and have yet to be able to connect to it. Last official stop for the day was the internet cafe to see about flight arrangements for tomorrow and hotel reservations. Up until this morning I really wasn't certain where I was going next. The little airport in Bagdora only services four cities. Two where I didn't want to go, one back to Calcutta that I'd already seen enough for me and one to Guwahati in Assam. From there is a long drive to Kaziranga Park where the One Horned Rhinoceros lived and a couple tigers too. If things work out I might be able to get two days at the park and then fly direct back to Mumbai for the flight home. If the park doesn't work out, the airport is large enough to get me someplace else for a couple days, before Bombay. After the credit cards were accepted at the airline and the hotel, then came the rub, as Billy Shakespeare would say.

Tomorrow in Darjeeling the local tea workers are having a city wide strike. The shops are closed. No cars are allowed to move. The joint shuts down. From 6 am to 6 pm. The plane is scheduled to depart Bagdora and 330 pm. With 2 hours before flight time and 3 to 3 ½ hours to Bagdora from Darjeeling that puts hotel departure via taxi around 10 am. Oops That ain't gonna work so good. The plan is to leave here at 0500. It could have been such a nice final morning in Darjeeling too.

So besides an early start tomorrow and several additional hours spent in a small rural airport than planned. I'll have to shower tonight, because there is no hot water in the morning until 630. I guess I could stay here an extra day, it really is a nice city, but time is getting short in India for me and when you lose a day traveling it makes all those days on the calendar suddenly seem a lot closer together than before.

We said Adieu until the next morning and I began walking downhill to the train station. The train I saw at the loop was the working train with the Diesel locomotive. I wanted to see the 1890's steam train locomotives that are used for the tourist joy rides between Darjeeling and Ghoom. There are a lot of little streets all switchbacks and intersections, but if you keep going down eventually you'll come to the train station.

Along the way I can hear chanting coming my way uphill. There are no cars coming by and people are getting scarcer and scarcer. The chanting is getting closer. I’m starting o remember those State Department emails they have been sending out lately. – Avoid large crowds – Avoid political demonstrations – I'm on this box canyon of a street, no place to go left or right. Impossible for my fluffy out of shape body to get up the darned hill and I begin to see the banner spanning the street being carried around the next corner towards me. Then the throng of people follow the banner, all yelling and chanting. Most in language the government understands and “We want freedom, now!” in a language that everyone understands. Maybe if I stand behind this truck, when the rubber bullets and the tear gas flies I'll be fine. Uhh .. maybe this truck IS the truck bomb. Errr.. maybe … by this time the crowd had passed and it was just Grill to Spare, cars and cars twisting their way down hill behind the marchers.

Down at rail side I found the Toy train, and it was the steam, not Diesel engine that was switching cars around the rail yard. I shot some pictures. I don't think any of the pictures will win any awards, but they are of interest of days long past. It's been choo chooing since the 1890's bringing English workers for the East India Company up in the summer to get away from the heat in Calcutta, and taking tea for export down. Now it still does that, but the British are now tourists, but the tea is the same. Ghoom's station is the highest in the world, if you are ever a contestant on Jeopardy.

The marchers had apparently reached their destination, because the traffic was moving. I caught a taxi back up the hill to my hotel to find that the internet was now working. I logged on and could get FaceBook, words only no images, but neither of my web email address would connect. I tried for an hour and came back to my room and my cubby with the worlds vista at my feet. Next stop Assam.

I got out of bed an hour later and pulled back the curtains. Fuck-A-Duck! Fuck-A-Duck! There they were all lit up in the morning's light. It was so excited. I scurried around the room muttering F-A-D (see above), F-A-D! Where did I put my camera? F-A-D! I have to catch this before the clouds return! Luckily the clouds stayed way. I hope the pictures translate just how awesome the view was from my room this morning.

Hot water things and then hot air things and some clothes and I was on my way down to breakfast. No one to visit with. Just me, the staff and half a dozen Indian men who looked military to me for some reason. I could see their breath as they talked, no wonder we were all wearing parkas for breakfast. Except for the monkey at the window, breakfast was normal in every respect. Immediately after a couple pieces of toast and some hot, but not good coffee I was in the lobby. The receptionist said my driver was waiting.

If I had know that I would have skipped toast and got something later. Tiger Hill is 10 miles past Ghoom. We are at 7000 feet here in Darjeeling, Ghoom is 7500 and Tiger Hill is 8500. Up and up. At the top of the hill the view was spectacular. When it is totally clear Mount Everest and Lhotse can be seen far to the west. Today it was just the Third highest mountain and it was looking good. Would have been better at sunrise, but woulda coulda.

WE drove back down the hill to Ghoom to visit a 'Three fer'. The memorial to the Indian Gurkha’s of WWII, the place where the toy train has to make a climbing 180 degree turn to gain elevation to get over the crest of the mountain and the WC. Toss in a little Himalaya gazing as well.

Hen on to a monastery that was built in 1850 and was really interesting. With murals that reminded me on those Chinese dragons. Buddha was surrounded by the same creatures on the altar. I would have taken a couple pictures inside, bu it was pretty dark and without a tripod I'd have to us a flash and that would ruin it totally. Maybe I'll find a picture on the web and inset a link to it.

I am staying at a hotel that promised Wi-Fi in the lobby and have yet to be able to connect to it. Last official stop for the day was the internet cafe to see about flight arrangements for tomorrow and hotel reservations. Up until this morning I really wasn't certain where I was going next. The little airport in Bagdora only services four cities. Two where I didn't want to go, one back to Calcutta that I'd already seen enough for me and one to Guwahati in Assam. From there is a long drive to Kaziranga Park where the One Horned Rhinoceros lived and a couple tigers too. If things work out I might be able to get two days at the park and then fly direct back to Mumbai for the flight home. If the park doesn't work out, the airport is large enough to get me someplace else for a couple days, before Bombay. After the credit cards were accepted at the airline and the hotel, then came the rub, as Billy Shakespeare would say.

Tomorrow in Darjeeling the local tea workers are having a city wide strike. The shops are closed. No cars are allowed to move. The joint shuts down. From 6 am to 6 pm. The plane is scheduled to depart Bagdora and 330 pm. With 2 hours before flight time and 3 to 3 ½ hours to Bagdora from Darjeeling that puts hotel departure via taxi around 10 am. Oops That ain't gonna work so good. The plan is to leave here at 0500. It could have been such a nice final morning in Darjeeling too.

So besides an early start tomorrow and several additional hours spent in a small rural airport than planned. I'll have to shower tonight, because there is no hot water in the morning until 630. I guess I could stay here an extra day, it really is a nice city, but time is getting short in India for me and when you lose a day traveling it makes all those days on the calendar suddenly seem a lot closer together than before.

We said Adieu until the next morning and I began walking downhill to the train station. The train I saw at the loop was the working train with the Diesel locomotive. I wanted to see the 1890's steam train locomotives that are used for the tourist joy rides between Darjeeling and Ghoom. There are a lot of little streets all switchbacks and intersections, but if you keep going down eventually you'll come to the train station.

Along the way I can hear chanting coming my way uphill. There are no cars coming by and people are getting scarcer and scarcer. The chanting is getting closer. I’m starting o remember those State Department emails they have been sending out lately. – Avoid large crowds – Avoid political demonstrations – I'm on this box canyon of a street, no place to go left or right. Impossible for my fluffy out of shape body to get up the darned hill and I begin to see the banner spanning the street being carried around the next corner towards me. Then the throng of people follow the banner, all yelling and chanting. Most in language the government understands and “We want freedom, now!” in a language that everyone understands. Maybe if I stand behind this truck, when the rubber bullets and the tear gas flies I'll be fine. Uhh .. maybe this truck IS the truck bomb. Errr.. maybe … by this time the crowd had passed and it was just Grill to Spare, cars and cars twisting their way down hill behind the marchers.

Down at rail side I found the Toy train, and it was the steam, not Diesel engine that was switching cars around the rail yard. I shot some pictures. I don't think any of the pictures will win any awards, but they are of interest of days long past. It's been choo chooing since the 1890's bringing English workers for the East India Company up in the summer to get away from the heat in Calcutta, and taking tea for export down. Now it still does that, but the British are now tourists, but the tea is the same. Ghoom's station is the highest in the world, if you are ever a contestant on Jeopardy.

The marchers had apparently reached their destination, because the traffic was moving. I caught a taxi back up the hill to my hotel to find that the internet was now working. I logged on and could get FaceBook, words only no images, but neither of my web email address would connect. I tried for an hour and came back to my room and my cubby with the worlds vista at my feet. Next stop Assam.

I got out of bed an hour later and pulled back the curtains. Fuck-A-Duck! Fuck-A-Duck! There they were all lit up in the morning's light. It was so excited. I scurried around the room muttering F-A-D (see above), F-A-D! Where did I put my camera? F-A-D! I have to catch this before the clouds return! Luckily the clouds stayed way. I hope the pictures translate just how awesome the view was from my room this morning.

Hot water things and then hot air things and some clothes and I was on my way down to breakfast. No one to visit with. Just me, the staff and half a dozen Indian men who looked military to me for some reason. I could see their breath as they talked, no wonder we were all wearing parkas for breakfast. Except for the monkey at the window, breakfast was normal in every respect. Immediately after a couple pieces of toast and some hot, but not good coffee I was in the lobby. The receptionist said my driver was waiting.

If I had know that I would have skipped toast and got something later. Tiger Hill is 10 miles past Ghoom. We are at 7000 feet here in Darjeeling, Ghoom is 7500 and Tiger Hill is 8500. Up and up. At the top of the hill the view was spectacular. When it is totally clear Mount Everest and Lhotse can be seen far to the west. Today it was just the Third highest mountain and it was looking good. Would have been better at sunrise, but woulda coulda.

WE drove back down the hill to Ghoom to visit a 'Three fer'. The memorial to the Indian Gurkha’s of WWII, the place where the toy train has to make a climbing 180 degree turn to gain elevation to get over the crest of the mountain and the WC. Toss in a little Himalaya gazing as well.

Hen on to a monastery that was built in 1850 and was really interesting. With murals that reminded me on those Chinese dragons. Buddha was surrounded by the same creatures on the altar. I would have taken a couple pictures inside, bu it was pretty dark and without a tripod I'd have to us a flash and that would ruin it totally. Maybe I'll find a picture on the web and inset a link to it.

I am staying at a hotel that promised Wi-Fi in the lobby and have yet to be able to connect to it. Last official stop for the day was the internet cafe to see about flight arrangements for tomorrow and hotel reservations. Up until this morning I really wasn't certain where I was going next. The little airport in Bagdora only services four cities. Two where I didn't want to go, one back to Calcutta that I'd already seen enough for me and one to Guwahati in Assam. From there is a long drive to Kaziranga Park where the One Horned Rhinoceros lived and a couple tigers too. If things work out I might be able to get two days at the park and then fly direct back to Mumbai for the flight home. If the park doesn't work out, the airport is large enough to get me someplace else for a couple days, before Bombay. After the credit cards were accepted at the airline and the hotel, then came the rub, as Billy Shakespeare would say.

Tomorrow in Darjeeling the local tea workers are having a city wide strike. The shops are closed. No cars are allowed to move. The joint shuts down. From 6 am to 6 pm. The plane is scheduled to depart Bagdora and 330 pm. With 2 hours before flight time and 3 to 3 ½ hours to Bagdora from Darjeeling that puts hotel departure via taxi around 10 am. Oops That ain't gonna work so good. The plan is to leave here at 0500. It could have been such a nice final morning in Darjeeling too.

So besides an early start tomorrow and several additional hours spent in a small rural airport than planned. I'll have to shower tonight, because there is no hot water in the morning until 630. I guess I could stay here an extra day, it really is a nice city, but time is getting short in India for me and when you lose a day traveling it makes all those days on the calendar suddenly seem a lot closer together than before.

We said Adieu until the next morning and I began walking downhill to the train station. The train I saw at the loop was the working train with the Diesel locomotive. I wanted to see the 1890's steam train locomotives that are used for the tourist joy rides between Darjeeling and Ghoom. There are a lot of little streets all switchbacks and intersections, but if you keep going down eventually you'll come to the train station.

Along the way I can hear chanting coming my way uphill. There are no cars coming by and people are getting scarcer and scarcer. The chanting is getting closer. I’m starting o remember those State Department emails they have been sending out lately. – Avoid large crowds – Avoid political demonstrations – I'm on this box canyon of a street, no place to go left or right. Impossible for my fluffy out of shape body to get up the darned hill and I begin to see the banner spanning the street being carried around the next corner towards me. Then the throng of people follow the banner, all yelling and chanting. Most in language the government understands and “We want freedom, now!” in a language that everyone understands. Maybe if I stand behind this truck, when the rubber bullets and the tear gas flies I'll be fine. Uhh .. maybe this truck IS the truck bomb. Errr.. maybe … by this time the crowd had passed and it was just Grill to Spare, cars and cars twisting their way down hill behind the marchers.

Down at rail side I found the Toy train, and it was the steam, not Diesel engine that was switching cars around the rail yard. I shot some pictures. I don't think any of the pictures will win any awards, but they are of interest of days long past. It's been choo chooing since the 1890's bringing English workers for the East India Company up in the summer to get away from the heat in Calcutta, and taking tea for export down. Now it still does that, but the British are now tourists, but the tea is the same. Ghoom's station is the highest in the world, if you are ever a contestant on Jeopardy.

The marchers had apparently reached their destination, because the traffic was moving. I caught a taxi back up the hill to my hotel to find that the internet was now working. I logged on and could get FaceBook, words only no images, but neither of my web email address would connect. I tried for an hour and came back to my room and my cubby with the worlds vista at my feet. Next stop Assam.

Spicy parka soup

December 8 2015 – Darjeeling

75 at 7000. That is how many stair steps it if from the entrance lobby to my room, and the elevation in feet. 55 is where I have to stop and 'look at the scenery', before going back to my room to pant. I tell the locals I am old and fat, but mostly fat, so I go slow.

Yesterday the plane landed in Bagdora right on time. Both my pieces of luggage made it too. I always count it a minor miracle that me luggage ends up the same place I do. I've had my bags go on completely different vacations than I have. One time I had a hard sided suitcase plop over the baggage belt looking like PacMan. Except instead of eating dots it was dropping pieces of clothing. This time it all worked out just fine.

I thought I might want to go to Sikkim, but foreigners need a special permit to go there, so I stopped at the Sikkim tourist kiosk to find out how to get the permit. He told me how, drew me a map and then got me a taxi to Darjeeling. A little bitty 8 passenger van, that might hold 4 Americans. I took 'shotgun' and soon wished I hadn’t. The engine is in the rear and the nose is flat. Nothing but a piece of sheet metal and a headlight between me and the oncoming traffic. This driver was sane, but the other drivers had gone to the same school of driving as this morning's Calcutta driver did.

The road was nice and flat and the traffic moderate. We crossed over a bridge and people were digging pits in the sand. I asked the driver why the pits, he said they were looking for semi precious stones and occasionally gold. As we drove on we entered an Army base. It was kilometers and kilometers of soldiers. I guess they are still grumpy at Nepal and have a big army presence just in case a country the size of Rhode Island decides t take over a country the size of Texas. I can certainly see the threat.

After the small arms firing range the road took a left uphill. For the next two and a half hours,, except for about 5 miles it was up and up all the time. It was a two lane road that wound through the mountains. The road, as expected was home to little mini buses, big trucks, even bigger water trucks, SUV s, regular cars and pedestrians all thinking that where they had to go was more important that anyone else's place that they needed to go. Narrow, congested, and windy. Bring a pillow cuz this is going to take a while.

Guard rails? Ha ! Concrete with round flat rocks stuck on edge marked most of them. Occasionally there were the knee high black and white concrete barriers that look like castle battlements. Mostly it was just the side of the road and then right next to the road nothing for a few hundred feet where you saw the tops of 100 foot tall trees. It would be pretty quiet for several seconds of the wind whistling by before you hit the ground. I did tell you it was narrow didn't I ?

Slow trucks are best passed on blind curves. All trucks must be passed at all times. The occasional part where the roadway had washed away, should be traversed best when there is a truck coming in the opposite direction. At construction delays lay on your horn, because that makes the construction go so much faster. Accelerate in curves covered in water and gravel whenever possible. I think those are the rules of mountain driving here.

Once we got up the mountain and into town the streets got even more narrow, plus the added bonus of many more pedestrians and the vehicles parked on the streets. Unbelievably it all worked out and in little more than 3 hours had me at the gate to my hotel in Darjeeling.

About now I'm glad I brought my trusty purple coat. It's kind of chilly. Well at least I won't be walking and sweating up here. Reception was nice wood paneling with windows that looked to the north and the Himalayas. Except like Mt. Rainier near Seattle the mountains were not out today. Paperwork was processed and as the desk clerk was telling me about the hotel, an Indian man rushed in and interrupted him with “I have a reservation.”. Instead of the usual ignoring the current client and serving the new vocal client, he said to him “Have a seat there, and I'll be with you when I finish checking her in.” That was an absolute first for me. Really.

About now I noticed an actual slight chill in Reception. There wasn't any heat in the lobby. There was one vertical space heater that I might use in a bedroom, but not to heat a space the size of a hotel lobby. The bellman soon had my luggage and Reception was soon forgotten. Not having a heart attack or passing out from hypoxia were my foremost thoughts as I tried to keep up.

We entered my room. A really nice sized wood paneled room with a great view to the north, a bigger than King sized bed, dressing table, free snacks and sitting in the middle of the room a small space heater the size I used to have under my desk at work. The bellman bee lined for it and turned it on, then went about turning on the other lights. This hotel was not designed with winter in mind. This hotel was one of the high end properties in town, with only two that were higher in cost (by quite a lot) according to TripAdvisor. Then I remembered Helene, from the Sunderbans saying that in Nepal she was always cold because they didn't heat any of the rooms. Then I was glad for the luxury of the space heater. My room is what I'd call a semi suite. There is an attached 7 by 9 room with chair and ottoman and a side table and lamp that is all windows on two sides that is really a sweet deal. Right now me and the space heater and in that room and cozy as could be.

For my $100 (+/-) a night, I get this nice suite-ette, breakfast and supper. Hot water in the morning and evening and all of Darjeeling at my feet. Now if those darned mountains would just come out.

I wrote yesterdays entry in the unheated restaurant until the sun went down and then climbed to the top floor and my room. I honestly don't remember what happened between dark and dinner at 730. I waited a few minutes after 730 to make my appearance at supper. I didn't want to be too fashionably late, but I didn't want to appear too eager either. It was the first time I've ever had dinner inside where half the patrons wore parkas with the hoods up. The remaining diners just had parkas. I had long sleeved blouse and Scott e Vest on, I was a little chilled, but tolerable.

Dinner was, guess what? Indian food. There was a nice Minestrone that wasn't too spicy. I knew I'd be close to civilization most of today and took a helping of each of the cold salads. I got a large spoonful of the various things in red and cream stuff. I did skip the creamed spinach though. – when I checked in he asked me if I was vegetarian or non. It took him until the third time before I got what he was asking. I explained that I thought PETA stood for People Eating Tasty Animals, by saying “I eat meat.'. – Everything at dinner so far was vegetarian, where were the warm critters? Then I noticed in an alcove way off by itself containing a single steam table. Like it was there so as to not offend the vegetables. Inside was chicken in a sauce. It was really in an obscure place. Kind of like the smoking section, yes it is legal, but the right kind of people don't go there.

I heard a smattering of Indian English, a lot of what I can only assume is Hindi and one lone table of American English. A couple who like me that knew the 60's were more than just a decade your grandparents talked about.

After supper, I trekked to my room and tried to read for a while but soon succumbed to a full day of moving from one place to another.

I woke at 4 am with a big headache. I didn't drink as much water as I had been, because I wasn't sweating. Maybe that was the reason for the headache. Or it could be caffeine withdrawal, because I didn't have my after noon jolt. Maybe it was from the altitude. Can you gt altitude sickness at 7000 feet? I got up made some Starbucks and took an Aleve, that should cover all the possibilities. Then I couldn't go back to sleep for some reason.

Breakfast where I spoke with the American English couple from dinner last night. They live in Mumbai and work for an NGO, formerly of Taos and Portland. The said the altitude didn’t bother them, because Taos is at the same height. We talked through breakfast and I doubt either table could tell you what subjects were covered.

I grabbed my purple parka that has served me well since Macedonia in '95 and started walking. The nice thing about his hotel is it is pretty high on the mountain and it's all downhill to town. A nice morning stroll until I came to a place where I had to make a decision. Up or down ? Down or Up ? Decisions, decisions. No decision is also a decision, or so they say. Next thing I know I'm talking to this man who just happens to be a taxi driver. For the price of an IMAX movie he'll make all the up and down decisions for half the day for me. Sold.

I plopped down where the steering wheel should be, buckled up and we were off to a temple. Immediately after the first curve he says “Here we have two seasons. Monsoon and Winter, which makes our weather Monster. Yes, we have two seasons raincoat and overcoat.” I have a sneaking suspicion he's done the taxi driving thing before. Like for the last 20 years or there abouts. He's worked the tourists before and knows exactly how much each country is good for. For Americans it is IMAX, maybe Germans are just a regular movie, with popcorn, the French? They'd wait for the DVD and then bitch about it.

There was the Japanese Peace Temple and adjoining stupa. The toy train in operation since the 1800's and nearby Tibetan temple. The zoo and Himalayan Mountain Institute, and option to ride a ski lift sort of thing down and up the mountain, which I passed on. Four hours passed pretty quickly.

Most of my time was spent at the zoo and HMI. The Himalayan Mountain Institute (HMI) was created by Tenzang Norgay (I know iI’ve butchered his name). He and Sir Edmond Hilary made the first successful climb of Mt. Everest. He was born in Darjeeling and after the climb began the HMI to teach other men how to climb and to Sherpa. He really is my hero in some ways, because without him Sir Edmond would still be just good old Eddie. But it was symbiotic I guess. Hilary got the headlines and could have just blown Norgay off as just another porter. Instead he gave him full, second place credit. Norgay died in 1986 and in interned on the grounds of the HMI.

The HMI has a great museum dedicated to climbing the Himalayas showing the actual equipment used at various decades from the 1920's to present day. Those men who tried and failed in the 20's were men of steel. There was also a representation of the whole mountain range, where you would press a button and the particular peak would light up. The kids were having a ball randomly pressing the buttons.

The zoo was not horrid, but it was of the old style. More thought going into containment than habitat. The Red Panda and the Snow leopard are both unique animals to the area so it was a treat to see them. Oh ! I did also see a Royal Bengal Tiger. Whoopee do.

After we parted for the day we set up a potential date for tomorrow. A trip to a local mountain where you can feel surrounded by the Himalayas. That is providing it is clear. If it isn't clear I'm not sure what my day will hold. Maybe ride the toy train. I need to find an internet connection to see about moving on, day after tomorrow.

I changed some money with a private exchange, not a bank. The guy quoted me a good rate. He counted out all the big bills and shook my hand. Uhhhh …. what abut the other $16 ? Oh, ya. Oversight on my part, sorry. F'ing Cockroach!

Did some shopping for tea friends at home. I don't drink tea, but they do and it would like visiting Seattle and not having Salmon, to not get Darjeeling tea in Darjeeling. I did try a small pot of Darjeeling tea for my afternoon break and it really does have a different and noticeably better flavor than Mr. Lipton bags up.

It's now a little before 7. Dinner in 45. Maybe I'll wear MY parka tonight.

Just a little poisonous

December 7th, 2015 – Calcutta airport

The anniversary of the day that will live in infamy. On year ago I was trying to do a head stand in Bangladesh without using my hands. I failed miserably.

The flight to Bagdora leaves at 1030. Everyone says to get ere 1 hour before flight time for domestic flights. US recommendations are two hours for domestic. My recommendation is sleep at the airport 24 hours before flight time and you might make it to your flight.

The taxi made record time to the airport this morning, and I left 3 hours before scheduled departure, but he must have heard 3 minutes before departure. The taxis, well all vehicles here are a little crazy. This guy was absolutely insane. Running red lights at speed when there was cross traffic. Going down the wrong side of the street and forcing other cars to dodge out of the way. I am not talking the slow merge that they are so adept at here, I am saying a last minute jerk to avoid an actual collision. He was running fast on the street car tracks and then back end fishtailed a Little. I like to watch cars drift on the track, but not when I am in them and on the tracks. Then there was the yelling at other taxis and people. That was something I hadn't experienced before. Sure the horn is in constant use, but they never, ever yell. Just honk.

As unlikely as it was we made it here in one piece and there were no bodies laying in the street behind us.

At the airport there was the boarding pass and I.D. check line to get into the airport. Then the line to get to the check in counter, which moved at glacial speed. Once to the counter there was something wrong with my checked bag. She kept saying something in supersonic speed about the bag and pointing over there. Eventually I got her to slow down and repeated each syllable back to here. “Checked luggage must go the x-ray over there”. Grrrr.

The X-ray machine ate my bag and the handlers waived my two small bags on their way. I went back to a different line, because I think she was over me, for today, and I was with her as well. I found a somewhat shorter line and got to that counter to find that my hand carry was over weight limit. The heavy stuff is computer, camera and batteries, and o way is that going to be checked. So I asked her what the overweight fee was, I'd pay it. She said, just check the clothing and toiletries bag. Okay. – After it goes through x-ray. – I muttered some words that translate well in all languages. She did say that she'd print everything out for me and I could slip the line and drop the little blue bag when I came back. At least that was a small concession.

Next was the hand carry x ray, with laptop and liquids out, as expected. Then the ladies personal search behind the curtain – whoops! Sorry for the break, the plane was loading. Now in Darjeeling – with a metal detector wand and finally into the airport gates area. I am glad I planned two hours before the flight. If I had left it to the one hour recommended, I'd still be in Calcutta.

Enough about today. Lets go back to the Sunderbans.

The next morning the day was set for a 0615 to weigh anchor, or in the Sunderbans, back away from the jetty. It looked pretty foggy to me. London used to call this type of fog a 'Pea Soup fog'. So the embarkation time was moved to 0715. This was all well and good, but I was expecting some morning grub and it was served on the boat. I dug way, way deep into my luggage and found a squished Cliff Bar. For once I planned ahead a little.

The boat was waiting at the jetty for us and it wasn't one of those 1 foot above the water ferry types. It was a full fledged boat. With seats and a real bathroom. We motored through the fog to another place that had a whole herd of other tour boats, all waiting for something. Our passports were taken on shore for further bureaucratic mumbo jumbo and then our guide boarded and were were on the high seas, well the high river anyway. It really was the high river, because the Sunderbans are a brackish mangrove swamps. Think 50 percent river water, 50 percent sea water.

As soon as our guide boarded he had us all sit down like in a classroom. No standing, no walking about, probably no passing notes. He was there to give his spiel right out of someone's guidebook. These swamps blah, blah square kilometers They are home to blah, blah number of different species of birds. Blah, blah. He has lost the room by this time, red hat is starting to nob off, Mr and Mrs are starting to talk about what to get the grand kids for Holi and the fur guys are starting to roll a joint. There are approximate 103 tigers – BANG !! He had the entire area alert and listening. This is why the people came on this trip to see possibly see a tiger. Birds, square kilometers were just so much noise to them. Mention tiger and everyone was in awe. My speach would have gone “The Sunderbans are TIGER thirty thousand square kilometers. There are over TIGER 350 different species of birds that call …...”. You get the idea.

The tigers don’t live together as male and female unless they are having sex. Kind of like Los Angeles. The reason for this is if the female has two cubs and one is a male, the daddy tiger will try to kill kill is namesake. He doesn't need the competition within the family. Kind of like some NASCAR fans. So mom swims away to safe climes for her brood. The tiger population breakdown is something like this 30% male, 50% female and 20% cubs. China could take a lesson from that. This was about as close to the tigers that we would come the remainder of the day, and the day was 10 hours long.

We did see a fair amount of other critters though. Crocodiles, and a bazillion birds. Enough birds that

Tiger Tracks

by the end of the trip I could look at a bird and identify it sometimes. A couple huge Monitor lizards. A bevy of spotted deer. All of these animals were impossible for the untrained eye to find. Even with the both guides pointing the darned animal 50 feet away, they were still impossible for me to find. Then once I saw them it was the “Of course! Anybody can see that.” moment for me.

We stopped twice during the day to go for a short walk and climb a tower in hopes of catching a tiger at the artificial water hole. One of the wags on the oat said it was like Jurassic Park where there were high fences on each side of the walkway to keep you from being tiger poop. One had a board listing all of the recent tiger sightings. October 21^st was the last one. So I think your chances of being the tiger’s Thanksgiving meal is pretty slim. Though it would be bad for business if you were. Christ with all the people talking and cameras clicking, not to mention the children of no discipline screaming for no reason. If I was a tiger I'd stay the Hell away too.

Too be honest we did get closer to a tiger than just our guide's initial presentation We saw actual, live within the past 12 hours tiger tracks. Otherwise the tide would have washed them away.

Lunch was the same as every meal I've had here. Rice with two or three types of spicy stuff. This one did have some Okra which I thought about feeding to the fishes, but actually was good. Some grilled eggplant too. So I guess it wasn't all spicy.

At the last perp walk at both gates to and from the jetty. On a wire between the fence and gate post were a green viper at each end. One old hippie looking Indian man, the type with a short braided ponytail said it was not poisonous. One of the guides said it was “just a little poison” and the other guide said it was the most poisonous snake in the jungle. It was a viper, and it did have that triangle shaped head where the wide part of the triangle is where the venom sacs are located. I wasn't about to stick my pinky out to find out which of those three guys was right. I was betting on the last one.

So tiger less we went back to camp for free time and dinner. I came back to find my room completely untouched. The bed in the same jumbled rats nest as I left it. No towel either. Though it was so, so nice to be able to pee and not to have to clean the toilet seat every time. I with the men and the women who 'hover' would learn to lift the damned toilet seat so those of us who do don't have to spend half the time cleaning up after you. I hope you don''t pee on the seat in your own home, why is it okay away from home?

The evening came and Ramma asked if I wanted to go listen to the music again this evening with her. I had gone the previous eve and once was enough for me, so I declined. She said she'd ask Melissa (Ms. Boston) to go with her. I noticed that Melissa was in deep conversation with Helene (Fraulein Munchen). I told Ramma I had changed my mind and would love to go with her to the music, and she went ahead and interrupted Melissa and pulled her away from her chat with Helene. Fine whatever.

So we three walk towards where the music is playing. Ramma is legally blind. She can see, but not well. We take it slowly so Ramma doesn't have any problems. We get to the music, Melissa and I sit down. Ramma has her bright cell phone flashlight on, disturbing the ambiance and she's pacing. Then she turns around and walks away. I'm mentally scratching my head. A could minutes later I tell Melissa that I'm heading back, the only reason I came was for Ramma. She said “Me too!”. We got up and went back to camp, and I don't think Melissa ever got back to a decent conversation with Helene.

Ramma played the “I am legally blind” card too many times with me. Add in the “I just don't know what to do, I don't speak Hindi” so I am so lost. Poor me. Neither did he rest of us, and we got by. She should have stayed with Mr. New Jersey, he could have talked and she could have whined. That and Eskimos is why I don't do group trips.

Went to bed. Got up. Looked at the shower, still no towel. Figured I'd be in Calcutta, land of hot water and towels in a few hours and got dressed. Had a nice chat with Melissa about some heavy topics as well as what she had done in her life. She's 22 and more mature than most 30 year olds I know. Strong work ethic and really ready to try anything. The world will be a better place with her in it. Then Helene came over, I'd like to get to know here more. Mostly she talked about her experiences in Nepal, trekking for a month. Sounded like a very interesting and adventuresome trip. No heat, having the flu at 20,000 feet. To me it sounded like an ordeal but she spoke of it fondly.

We said our good byes to those that were staying and reversed our walking, ferry, walking trip back to the bus. It was a little easier this time, because it wasn't 4 in the afternoon and I wasn't totally sweating my essence away. On the bus everyone was pretty subdued. Most of us chilled and dozed the couple hours back to Calcutta.

Once back in Calcutta I made a bee line for the hotel, leaving Ramma in the dust and in someone else's hands. Checked in dropped my bags and scooted across the street to the market to pick up the two shirts I was talked into buying. The shop was closed. I don't expect to go back to Calcutta, so I guess I'm out about twenty-five bucks and two shirts I didn't want. Glad I didn't buy the pants I didn't want or I'd really be grumpy.

Which leads us to Crazy Taxi and this morning. I'm going to stop here. My fingernails are bleeding from the typing.

Don't Panic ! Bring a towel.

Sunday December 6 – Calcutta

Home in my previous hotel in Kolkata after three days and two nights in the mangrove swamps bordering India and Bangladesh. Home of the Royal Bengal Tigers. It's nice to be back in civilization, and by civilization I mean Wi-Fi.

The morning after my last entry started by schlepping a day pack of clothes and a day pack of camera and computer. The majority of my luggage was left at the hotel in Kolkata. It was only a few block, and it was peaceful. As I said, this town doesn't really get going until around 930 or ten. At eight am, it just me, the chai salesmen and the street sweepers. Pretty darned nice.

The backpack emporium cum travel agency had one customer when I got there. Money and receipts were exchanged and it was just a matter of the rest of the group to arrive. Of course there were the stragglers. Their clocks must have been incorrect. About half an hour late we set off on a short walk to our new home of three and a half hours, a big white 15 passenger van. With big blue letters on the front proclaiming TOURIST. I'm not sure if this is so the vendors along the way can change their price tags when they see us, or makes it so the terrorists know which are the best targets.

In a cloud of Diesel we sped off to our destination, only to stop 30 minutes into the journey. Not stopped someplace. Stopped next to the highway with no explanation that I heard. After another while we were joined by our last passenger. I guess the taxis were on strike (maybe that is why I had such a hard time getting one back from Victoria on Friday) and he had a hard time getting too the bus on time. Now that is a valid excuse even in my book.

Our group was quite a mix of people. There were the four men from Calcutta, office mates, who were on a “Boys Only” weekend away. One guy was married and the other three were single. Around them the entire trip wafted the aroma of alcohol and marijuana. The only problem I had with them was they never offered to share.

Then there was the German couple. They were on a “18 month or whenever the money runs out” trip starting in Nepal and then moving slowly south and east, eventually crossing from the land of the Kiwi and Lord of the rings to south America. A nice friendly couple.

There was a girl, by girl I mean 22, she's a girl to me. Who is doing a study abroad here in India. Home port on her boat, if she had one would read “Boston, MA”. She was so darned quiet at first. I thought I was shy. In the course of conversation with her over the trip she summed up my feeling exactly and totally explained why she was quiet. I'm paraphrasing here, but it was something like- Just because we are on the same 3 day trip is no reason that we have to bond like we had known each other since kindergarten. She eventually became probably the most interesting and smartest people on the trip.

Then there was the mature couple from India. Friendly. That's all I remember about them.

Last was Ramma and Perry. Both US citizens and residents, but still had their noticeable Indian accents. She is a chip engineer and does know the way to San Jose, because she lives there. Perry lives in New Jersey. They met on a dating site and decided to go on a trip overseas together as soon as they met. What could possibly go wrong with that ?

I had known Ramma all of fifteen minutes, making the small - where do you live, where are you going - talk that every traveler opens up with. When I told her my next intended stop, she asked me if she could join me. I told her that I was flattered that I was so fascinating, but I travel solo.

After being around Perry fro a bit I found out he was a man of man accomplishments and many many words, with no substance. If you wanted to know anything, he was the man who knew it all and had an opinion on the subject. Actually several opinions. Don't know if that is what Ramma saw, but it certainly is what I saw.

Enough gossip for now. Maybe more later.

Not soon enough we arrived as far as the van could go. Everybody out and lets go an a hike through his village. Crowded narrow streets. The typical hustle and pushing that makes India, India to me. A stop at the street corner for one last chance to buy alcoholic spirits or cigarettes and potty.

I didn't need booze or smokes, but the toilet was a nice option, until I was the porcelain options were only the very short one, no thrones. I think I pee'd on my foot some. I hate those squat toilets to pee, I hate to think about the 2 Rupee toilet process.

It was the heat of the day, and with each step the day packs got heavier and heavier. Then came the steps down to the ferry. Not one of those white things that has two layers. This one was a squat brown and black boat. The black from the Diesel exhaust. About 1 foot of freeboard. The deck set six inches below the 'railing'. Of course it was overloaded with people and then they loaded the bicycle and the motorcycle. Our guide said we were lucky, they didn't have a cow on today.

The boatman got a big crank out and started winding up the engine and with a cough and a belch of black smoke it putt …………. putt ………. putted to life. I was certain it was going to die. But just as it was about to expire he grabbed a string walked back to the tiller and goosed it to life. We chugged across some water and then exited for another hike through a village until we came to a fleet of three motorized tricycles with flat plywood boards on the back of them. Toss the day packs and your butt down and hope your still have the phone number to your chiropractor when you get off at the end. They were better than walking, mostly.

More waling and more steps and one more ferry and at long last we arrived someplace. Disembark with your goods follow me. Off through a walkway and there we were. First hut on the right was mine. I mean hut. Maybe 15 by 15, plaster covered mud, with a thatched roof home to who knows what manner of creatures. I read once that the reason canopy beds were made was so keep the critters from the thatch from falling onto the sleepers. I didn't see and critters in the room,, but there were a couple lizards t greet me in the morning from the thatch.

The bed was a huge platform maybe a foot off the ground and almost as soft as sleeping on the floor. Two pillows, one sheet and mosquito netting completed the ensemble.

The bathroom did have a throne, a sink and a shower head. The exposed pipe running down from the shower head had one knob. One knob ? Well maybe they forgot to add the cold faucet. Turns out it was the other way around, no hot. The thing that really disappointed me in that bathroom was there was no towel. NO TOWEL ?? There may not be soap or hot water, but there is always a towel. I guess never say never and never say always in this case.

Electricity was one underpowered light in the sleeping area and another in the bathroom. The room was so dark that you needed the light on. Placement of the switch was on par with the room so far. I needed to walk from the door, through the room to the door next to the bathroom to find the switch. When I bought the tour, I was told to bring a flashlight. I didn't know it was to get to the light switch. I don't remember him telling me to also bring a towel.

Time enough to pee and then back for a village tour. I almost didn't go. I know that they are part of every tour package, but I always feel a bit of a voyeur gawking at peoples homes and yards. I don't think I would like a tour group waling down my alley pointing out my living area and snapping pictures. Ramma wanted to go so I caved in. The village was exactly as most villages are, but there was a commotion off to the right. A crowd was on and below the levy for the Friday evening fights. These weren't among the men though, they were between their roosters. I was about to hang a U turn until it was explained that it was totally non lethal. No metal spurs, just chicken feet. Only until one of the chickens turns and runs. I guess if you are going to have cocks fight this is about a humane way as there is. I watched a couple bouts. One of those, see it once or twice and you’ve seem it enough sorts of things.

Back to the huts for lunch. More food than I generally eat for supper and every bite except for the rice spicy. They must of forgot to add the cayanne pepper to the water. It tasted good but I didn't eat everything that was placed on my plate. Especially not the three cups of rice. I gave my plate to the serving wench and she sneered at me before scraping it off my plate to the ground outside, where the two turkeys came running over. They ran like it was Thanksgiving and I was the turkey. Since I was over Newfoundland for my Thanksgiving, I am glad the turkeys were able to have a belated one on me.

After stuffing ourselves it was time to board two little pirogues to be rowed someplace. I was hot, tired, sick of sitting cross legged on a boat's deck, without life jackets – and mostly just “peopled out”. I did the Ottis Redding thing and was Sitting on the dock of the bay. A bench overlooking the landing. I sat there and watched the locals walk by. Some haystacks with legs, but as it became more and more men cradling their rooster and stroking them if not lovingly, certainly respectfully. I'd occasionally catch on of their eyes and thumbs up or thumbs down. It was kind of 50/50 with one draw. None of the men seemed to be angry with the second place roosters, no carrying by their feet or wings. Instead snugly against their chest and gentle scratching around the neck area. This made me feel better about the earlier spectacle.

When the group returned, they had been going up tight estuaries. Maybe I should have gone, but I would have missed the chickens going home to roost.

Next was the obligatory local musicians, followed by dinner, followed by a starlit paddle. I gave the musicians a try and then quit following and decided to call it a day.