The next morning, we woke early as usual and had tea and a simple breakfast at the restaurant across the street. There were dogs all over India in general, and Yuksom was no exception. The dogs here were certainly fuzzier than in many other location - sure proof of the laws of evolution as I'm sure it gets darned cold here in winter. There were a couple of cute ones in particular that we bonded with in our brief stay, including one with a sweet face and black, floppy ears. Oh my.
We were sharing a jeep with Alok, Anne-Gael, Gael and their guide Rohit (as well as 5 other passengers) headed down to the taxi 'hub' at Jorethang. From there, we'd be splitting up with Alok Gangtok (and the Hotel Pandim as we recommended), the French couple heading home via Siliguri's airport and Rohit, Sarah and I headed for Darjeeling. Rohit said he had business there, and Sarah and I hoped to do just a little more sight-seeing before we caught our own flight back in 3 days.
The ride to Jorethang was 4 hours of bumps and sharp turns - as all roads in this area are. We passed through a number of small villages and settlements and again I was amazed at how tenacious the people of Sikiim have been in establishing civilization on these impossibly steep mountains. I was crunched into the middle, though, and had no opportunity to take any photos from this leg. Probably just as well - concentrating on the road ahead helps me keep from getting carsick!
The cost of this B-ticket packed roller coaster? 150 rupees each, or about $3. Hard to complain at that rate, for sure.
Jhoretang is a bustling city of about 3000, though I'd imagine during the day that population comes close to doubling as the thousands of share taxis come through on their way to Pelling, Darjeeling, Siliguri and Kalimpong. This 'hub' is so critical that the Sikkimese government constructed a 4-floor parking garage to function as the taxi 'stand'. Each floor is jammed with jeeps and Tatas, with people pouring in and out at a dizzying rate. Each floor is dedicated to a series of different destinations - but if you didn't know that, you'd be screwed as I didn't see a single sign explaining it. Thank gawd for Rohit!
Rohit did all of the work for all of us. He haggled and got seats for the other three, then took us up a flight of stairs to haggle for our seats. He even got us permission to leave our backpacks in the ticket office so that we didn't have to haul them around (evidently we'd have an hour or so to wait).
Another observation about life in India: the idea of 'waiting in line' or 'taking your turn' seems to be completely absent here. I'd read in a book before coming to expect something like this, but it's hard for my very Americanized brain to even comprehend what is going on when there are 15-20 people crowded around a ticket window shouting, waiting, and jockying for position. It wasn't that they were rude or pushy or even angry - they just don't stand in a tidy row and let each person have their say in turn. Thus, a queue becomes a horde, and if you don't know the body language and cultural expectations, you're lost.
Again, thank gawd for Rohit!
He got us all our tickets, making sure we weren't relegated to the mashed-up front seat or the nauseating-rolling rear seat. His pride in this accomplishment was evident, and from the haggling I'd see later as we were trying to claim these seats, I could tell that we had a position of considerable value. I only wish we'd told him to buy the 4th seat in the row... Sigh.
We decided to get some tea and refreshments while we waited - kind of the equivalent of grabbing a soda from the machine at the bus station back home. The 'vending machines' here, however, were human and walked through the stand with their hot chapati, chai and bottles of water. None of us Westerners wanted to risk it, so Rohit took us to a small stand in an alley off the main drag a short walk from the Taxi stand. It's a good thing that I am not a nervous person, or I'd have been sure a gang of backpack-stealing marauders would be waiting for use up there...
Gael and Ann-Gael had to leave first, so we all returned to the taxi stand for them to load up into their keep. We passed hugs all around and promises to keep in touch. It is amazing how easy it is to bond with strangers when you're in another country. I don't know if Ann-Gael really was as nervous as she looked as she climbed up into that crazy ride - but I wouldn't blame her a bit if she was. The whole scene at the stand was insane - people shouting in several languages at once, bartering and begging, selling goods and trying to crowd as much as possible onto these poor cars. They drove off and we had a short wait until it was our turn to play the taxi cab shuffle.
While we waited I noticed that the fare-chart noted that the road between Jorethang and Darjeeling was 'rough and winding'. None of the other roads were noted this way - not even the very rough and winding roads we'd just been down for the last 5 hours.
This couldn't be good.
Our driver was very young and quite aware of appearing stylish and cool. His car, however, was one of the worst I'd seen yet - with sagging upholstery, bad retreads on the tires and seat springs that unexpectedly poked you in the back. It was a full car, too, tight to the point that I felt Rohit and I should maybe think about learning each other's last name if we were going to be that close for that long.
The ride was tortuously slow. Much of the road was so steep and rough that the jeep didn't top 24km/hr (about 15mph). At one point, we stopped on a very steep hill in a tiny village to deliver a tool to the driver of another jeep which was stranded with a flat tire. From the looks of the passengers, they'd been there a very long time. Our driver didn't even pull off of the road - I think he knew there wouldn't be any other traffic coming through. Very rural, very isolated, very remote. I was very glad not to have been on that other jeep.
We also had to stop at the Sikkim border. The whole car had to wait while our passports and special permits were checked and double checked by the police at the checkpoint. It seemed to take forever, and I found the whole scene so stereotypical that I had to photograph it. I got a couple of dirty looks as I did so, and Sarah practically whispered to me 'It's not a good idea to take pictures of police'.
Shows what I know, don't it. Stupid American ;)
As we neared Darjeeling, we began to see tea plantations on the hillsides. Rohit pointed out a few, and soon we were spotting them everywhere - dotted with the umbrellas of the tea-pickers. They use the umbrellas to shade themselves as they work out in the fields (brilliant). The beautiful, pastoral scene, can make it hard to realize that these people are laboring in the the very hot, intense sun for very little money with only an umbrella to give them comfort. I suppose it was easier to remember when I was jammed into the middle seat of a share taxi, but I still doubt that I have any real understanding of their lot in life.
At our rest stop, the driver got out - smoked a cigarette, ate some lunch and talked with some friends. All without really ever announcing to us that we were taking a rest stop or how long we'd be. He just left the car and disappeared into a roadside restaurant. We all sat in the car for the first five minutes or so. Then a couple of people got out and milled about. After about 15 minutes, Rohit got out and found the driver. He came back to tell us that we were taking a quick break, so we got out and stretched our legs. Of course, the minute we were getting comfortable outside the car, the driver re-appeared and we were jammed back into the jeep. If only I'd gotten out 10 minutes sooner, I could have gotten some good pictures of the rural character of that place. Instead, I only got a couple quick snaps and we were off again!
Our ride went on seemingly forever - until finally we could see the increasing density of settlement that told us we were getting close to Darjeeling. With over 130,000 residents, it was the largest city we'd been in since Delhi. From the stories I'd read and heard, I expected something more sprawling and pastoral - something that felt like an English countryside village. Instead, Darjeeling turned out to be something very different indeed.
My first glimpse of Darjeeling was unadulterated urban chaos.
Once we'd arrived in the town itself, we pulled into what can only loosely be described as a taxi stand. It was essentially the main road through the lower portion of town, lined with jeeps 3 or 4 deep on each side of the street. Every square inch was moving - cars, people, dogs, cows, trucks and carts. We had the name of a hotel, and we had general directions that it was up a long flight of stairs, but beyond that we were clueless. We'd planned on maybe catching a local taxi to get us there, but Rohit recommended instead that we hire a porter. It was clear from the traffic jam that movement by foot would be faster here, and the vertical nature of the city also seemed to favor the pedestrian. Where cars had to wind back and forth up the narrow switchbacking streets, walkers could take long, narrow stairways straight up.
'Does the porter know where our hotel is?' I asked Rohit. I was feeling the clench of that mild crowd-phobia that kicks up in me from time to time. Rohit nodded. His English was limited, but I got enough to know that the porter would take us right to the hotel for 50 rupees. He would even carry my bag. Looking at those stairs, it sounded fantastic.
Before my feet were on the ground for even five minutes, this tiny little man (I mean - shorter than me tiny) was strapping my backpack into his forehead strap. Rohit then hoisted Sarah's pack onto his head. We'd assumed that there would be two porters - one for each of our bags. Instead, here was a little bit of a man carrying what had to be close to 100lbs on his head. I wanted to object, but I didn't get a chance.
The little man took off like a rocket ship on speed.
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| FYI - I did NOT give him any of my breakfast. I certainly was tempted, though. Photo by Sarah |
The ride to Jorethang was 4 hours of bumps and sharp turns - as all roads in this area are. We passed through a number of small villages and settlements and again I was amazed at how tenacious the people of Sikiim have been in establishing civilization on these impossibly steep mountains. I was crunched into the middle, though, and had no opportunity to take any photos from this leg. Probably just as well - concentrating on the road ahead helps me keep from getting carsick!
The cost of this B-ticket packed roller coaster? 150 rupees each, or about $3. Hard to complain at that rate, for sure.
Jhoretang is a bustling city of about 3000, though I'd imagine during the day that population comes close to doubling as the thousands of share taxis come through on their way to Pelling, Darjeeling, Siliguri and Kalimpong. This 'hub' is so critical that the Sikkimese government constructed a 4-floor parking garage to function as the taxi 'stand'. Each floor is jammed with jeeps and Tatas, with people pouring in and out at a dizzying rate. Each floor is dedicated to a series of different destinations - but if you didn't know that, you'd be screwed as I didn't see a single sign explaining it. Thank gawd for Rohit!
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| An internet photo of the outside of the Jorethang taxi 'stand' |
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| Sarah and I wait for Alok, Gael and Ann-Gael to get their spots on the cabs on the Gangtok-Siliguri floor |
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| Cabs/Jeeps lined up and waiting for...well, I was never really sure how the system worked. |
Another observation about life in India: the idea of 'waiting in line' or 'taking your turn' seems to be completely absent here. I'd read in a book before coming to expect something like this, but it's hard for my very Americanized brain to even comprehend what is going on when there are 15-20 people crowded around a ticket window shouting, waiting, and jockying for position. It wasn't that they were rude or pushy or even angry - they just don't stand in a tidy row and let each person have their say in turn. Thus, a queue becomes a horde, and if you don't know the body language and cultural expectations, you're lost.
Again, thank gawd for Rohit!
He got us all our tickets, making sure we weren't relegated to the mashed-up front seat or the nauseating-rolling rear seat. His pride in this accomplishment was evident, and from the haggling I'd see later as we were trying to claim these seats, I could tell that we had a position of considerable value. I only wish we'd told him to buy the 4th seat in the row... Sigh.
We decided to get some tea and refreshments while we waited - kind of the equivalent of grabbing a soda from the machine at the bus station back home. The 'vending machines' here, however, were human and walked through the stand with their hot chapati, chai and bottles of water. None of us Westerners wanted to risk it, so Rohit took us to a small stand in an alley off the main drag a short walk from the Taxi stand. It's a good thing that I am not a nervous person, or I'd have been sure a gang of backpack-stealing marauders would be waiting for use up there...
 |
| Something about having "Fear Me, Ok Tata, Good Luck'" on the back of your truck makes me think you might have a personality disorder... |
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| Alok and I toast with my favorite Indian beverage (Mazaa Mango Juice) in the dark alley |
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| The restroom at the taxi stand...and I don't recommend using either if you can avoid it. |
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| The main drag in Jorethang |
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| The streets of Jorethang |
Gael and Ann-Gael had to leave first, so we all returned to the taxi stand for them to load up into their keep. We passed hugs all around and promises to keep in touch. It is amazing how easy it is to bond with strangers when you're in another country. I don't know if Ann-Gael really was as nervous as she looked as she climbed up into that crazy ride - but I wouldn't blame her a bit if she was. The whole scene at the stand was insane - people shouting in several languages at once, bartering and begging, selling goods and trying to crowd as much as possible onto these poor cars. They drove off and we had a short wait until it was our turn to play the taxi cab shuffle.
While we waited I noticed that the fare-chart noted that the road between Jorethang and Darjeeling was 'rough and winding'. None of the other roads were noted this way - not even the very rough and winding roads we'd just been down for the last 5 hours.
This couldn't be good.
Our driver was very young and quite aware of appearing stylish and cool. His car, however, was one of the worst I'd seen yet - with sagging upholstery, bad retreads on the tires and seat springs that unexpectedly poked you in the back. It was a full car, too, tight to the point that I felt Rohit and I should maybe think about learning each other's last name if we were going to be that close for that long.
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| Loading up our ride - the driver is on the roof with our packs. |
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| A rough, winding road with a wanna-be-rock-star driver, 12 shouting Indians and THIS is the tire we're depending on? Oye. |
We also had to stop at the Sikkim border. The whole car had to wait while our passports and special permits were checked and double checked by the police at the checkpoint. It seemed to take forever, and I found the whole scene so stereotypical that I had to photograph it. I got a couple of dirty looks as I did so, and Sarah practically whispered to me 'It's not a good idea to take pictures of police'.
Shows what I know, don't it. Stupid American ;)
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| The border between the states of Sikkim and West Bengal |
At our rest stop, the driver got out - smoked a cigarette, ate some lunch and talked with some friends. All without really ever announcing to us that we were taking a rest stop or how long we'd be. He just left the car and disappeared into a roadside restaurant. We all sat in the car for the first five minutes or so. Then a couple of people got out and milled about. After about 15 minutes, Rohit got out and found the driver. He came back to tell us that we were taking a quick break, so we got out and stretched our legs. Of course, the minute we were getting comfortable outside the car, the driver re-appeared and we were jammed back into the jeep. If only I'd gotten out 10 minutes sooner, I could have gotten some good pictures of the rural character of that place. Instead, I only got a couple quick snaps and we were off again!
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| Our jeep is passed by some tea-pickers. Photo by Sarah |
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| Even the humblest shops and homes have flower gardens here. |
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| Tea Plantation - photo by Sarah |
My first glimpse of Darjeeling was unadulterated urban chaos.
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| I expected Darjeeling to look like this...(internet photo) |
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| But it actually looked more like this (internet photo) |
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| Road construction before the barely-one-lane metal bridge that you must pass to reach Darjeeling from the east. A traffic officer (who you can just see behind the car approaching us) must direct passage on the bridge, because the turn is blind in both directions. Photo by Sarah |
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| Darjeeling taxi stand - Photo by Sarah |
'Does the porter know where our hotel is?' I asked Rohit. I was feeling the clench of that mild crowd-phobia that kicks up in me from time to time. Rohit nodded. His English was limited, but I got enough to know that the porter would take us right to the hotel for 50 rupees. He would even carry my bag. Looking at those stairs, it sounded fantastic.
Before my feet were on the ground for even five minutes, this tiny little man (I mean - shorter than me tiny) was strapping my backpack into his forehead strap. Rohit then hoisted Sarah's pack onto his head. We'd assumed that there would be two porters - one for each of our bags. Instead, here was a little bit of a man carrying what had to be close to 100lbs on his head. I wanted to object, but I didn't get a chance.
The little man took off like a rocket ship on speed.
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| Picture by Sarah (who stood at least a chance of keeping up with this man) |
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