WELCOME TO SIKKIM

IRENE'S FINAL E-MAIL FROM INDIA:

Afghanistan and Sikkim were two countries that I dreamed of visiting since
childhood. Afghanistan because of the book "Caravans" by A.J. Cronin (if I
remember correctly) and Sikkim because of the National Geographic coverage
when the monarch married an American, Hope Cook, around the same time that
Grace Kelly was married to Prince Rainer of Monaco.

It looks doubtful that I will ever make it to Afghanistan but Sikkim
remained possible. Sikkim ceased to be an independent nation and became part
of India in 1975. Sikkim is tucked into the northeast corner of India, in
the Himalayas, wedged between Tibet and Bhutan. On the map, it does not seem
that far from Calcutta.

Lewis and I had enough of car and plane travel for awhile. Our bodies were
still shaking for a long time after the 9 days on the roads of Orissa and
our wallet was a bit drained by the flight from Bhubaneswar to Calcutta. It
seemed that it was the perfect time to travel by train.

Our friend (and travel agent in Orissa) booked us 2 tickets on the
Kanchanjunga Express from Calcutta to Shiliguri... eight hours 2nd class *air
conditioned*. From Shiliguri we would need a car or Jeep. This sounded
a lot better than the train we took on our last
trip: Deradhun to Varanasi...22 hours, 2nd class non a/c!

The only downside to the train that I saw was that it departed Sealdah
Station, Calcutta at 6:35 AM. Even the driver who was going to take us said
that he didn't mind if we took a taxi instead. We packed our bags after
dinner, instructed the hotel staff to wake us at 5 and pretended to get a
few hours of sleep.

It was all remarkably easy. Sealdah Station was bustling even at 6 AM but
the electonic board displayed the Kachanjunga EXPRESS' departure at 6:35 AM
from platform 9A. We sat on the floor with the other travellers and waited
for the train to come. There is one thing that you can count on in India and
that is the railway system! The train arrived on time. There were crowds
jostling forwards and backwards but gradually a line seemed to form in front
of the 2nd class carriages non-airconditioned. Lewis and I pressed on
down the track looking for the telltale sign of a/c compartments - the
sealed
windows.

Sure enough, about 10 cars down, we saw a sealed window unit...and a
computer printout sheet listing passenger names and seat assignments. There
we were Klar, L and Klar, I in seats 35 and 36. How efficient is that! The
car began to fill up. There was a lot of movement on the platform of goods
being hauled, people bustling, hawkers selling foodstuffs but soon I felt
the train start up. I looked down at my watch: 6:35 AM.

There were lots of surprises on this train ride, some good, some not so. On
the good side were the sheets, blanket and towel provided to each passenger.
Lots of people toiled the aisle selling cookies, candies, chai, coffee so we
were not neglected and had entertainment to boot. The toilet stall
actually had a toilet seat, no toilet paper however.

The not so good part was that the train was scheduled to
arrive in Shiliguri at 6:15 PM making it almost 12 hours to travel 600 kms.
It meant too that we would arrive in the dark and have to decide whether to
go on the mountain roads at dusk.

Our neighbours on the train all said that it was best to find a hotel for
the night because there were no Jeeps at the train station and we would lose
time going to the right station.They had all sorts of worries, concerns and
lots of misinformation.

When the train finally arrived (on the dot) we were swarmed by touts
offering cars to
Darjeeling or Gangtok (Sikkim) . Within minutes we were installed in a Toyota
Qualis (similar to a small land cruiser) of questionable vintage. Our driver
was about 30, lean, and unusually silent. The drive was to take 4-5 hours
and according to the travel agent in Orissa, the roads were good (obviously
he has not made the trip).

The road was fine for about 45 minutes but then we began to gain altitude
and the road became steep and sinuous with tight hairpin turns and dropoffs
heading into darkness.

The growing nightfall made it hard to see the countryside but it was heavily
forested at times. The occasional roadside stall lit up with an electric
bulb but nothing in the way of towns to speak of.

Then after about 2.5 hours, the driver pulled over in front of a row of
stalls and said: Break. Want tea? It was more a statement than a question.
We got out and went into a small "restaurant'" , the term is used quite
loosely. We had been up since 5 AM and had only eaten a bit of leftover rice
from dinner the night before as well as some cookies I had stashed in my
bag. Who knew what would be open when we reached Gangtok. So we pulled out 2
red plastic lawn chairs and sat at the arborite table, swept away some of
the flies and ordered vegetable momos (Tibetan dumplings) and black tea.
Maybe it was the lack of sleep or lack of food but they remain among the
best momos we have had so far!

Back into the car we scrambled and back to the crumbling, twisting roads.
Many parts had rock piles occupying 1/2 the area, a sign of future
improvements. During the daylight hours, men would be using a sledgehammers
to break up the rocks. Women would load the gravel and sand onto baskets on
their head and saunter down the steep hillside to fill the potholes. At
night , the rocks were just another obstacle on the road.

The benefit of night travel on these roads is that the headlights illuminate
beyond the tight curves giving oncoming traffic a hint of what is to come.
Our driver was slow, steady and cautious. We were far from the fastest
vehicle on the road and I was quite grateful for that.

At 9:30 PM we saw the sign "Welcome to Sikkim" at one end of a small
bridge. At the other end was a levered barrier. We stopped at the gate
and handed our passports to the driver who handed them to the border
guard. He looked at them and barked :"permits!!". We pointed to our
Indian visas. "permits for Sikkim?!" Although the guidebooks mentioned
permits obtainable at the border as well as a variety of tourism
offices, we had been informed that they were no longer necessary.
..apparently we were wrong.

We asked to buy them at the border. I think that the guard had been
waiting his whole career to give us his reply because he seemed to
shout it with glee:"Shiliguri. Back to Shiliguri. Office closed.
Office open 8 AM!" He repeated Shiliguri with the staccato of a
machine gun.

What were we to do? We drove the 40 minutes back to the momo
restaurant. The row of houses and foodstalls were shut tight in the
darkness. We did the only sensible thing: the driver slept in the
front seat, Lewis in the middle, and I slept with the luggage in the
back!

We were awake early and got to the West Bengal/Sikkim border by 7 AM.
Our driver spoke to the border guard who suggested we go and have
breakfast at the Sikkim hotel right next to the border office. We did
just that. The restaurant manager went and arranged our permit for
Sikkim. We went back to the border guard with our passports and
permits at 8 AM and he called over the permit official --- the same
fellow who had wanted to send us back to Shiliguri.

He noted the permit numbers in a book and said something about last
night. I said we slept in the car...but why couldn't he have let us
stay in the hotel?? He replied: Office close 8 PM. Welcome to Sikkim.

The marriage didn't last. - the king and Hope Cook.

A HOTEL IN CALCUTTA

IRENE'S FOURTH MESSAGE FROM INDIA:

Yet another report from India:
With memories of "City of Joy" by Dominique Lapierre in mind, we expected to NOT like Calcutta and were steeling ourselves to its onslaught. On the cab ride into town we commented to each other about how we seemed to like the city already! That was a surprise. The city seemed more intimate and manageable than either Delhi or Mumbai. In speaking to Indians about their cities, a number of them referred to Calcutta as a "city with soul" and a "laid back atmosphere".

Yes, there are still slum areas in Calcutta but we did not see the miles of shacks that line the airport around Mumbai. Apparently in the 1970's as East Pakistan was fighting to become Bangladesh, more than 4,000,000 refugees fled to Calcutta and completely inundated the city's infrastructure. There is still much poverty here and yes, there are people sleeping on the sidewalks, but many of the shantytowns and slum areas have been cleaned up.

Traffic is less of a nightmare as bus lanes and taxi zones are being created. Somehow, the city is more approachable than some of the other chaotic places we have been to.

The Fairlawn Hotel:
We tried repeatedly to book a room at the classic and inexpensive historied Fairlawn Hotel and our efforts paid off. We had read that it was a quirky place to stay and were looking forward to the experience. We did not know what to expect as our cab rounded the corner of the white classic India Museum and turned up Sudder St. The sidestreet was lined with a mix of storefronts and 2-3 storied buildings that left little space for sidewalk. There was a green iron gate in a wall. The driver honked and someone opened the gate. The cab turned sharply in to a little courtyard. At the back was an area obscured by high shrubs and what appeared to be a 2 story victorian house with an open veranda and entry. The Fairlawn Hotel has been owned by Violet Smith's family since 1936 - and I do not think there has been a thorough housecleaning or garage sale since!

We presented our passports and signed the usual registration while trying to read framed histories of the building! Our double room with a/c was 2800 rupees (app.$67.00) including breakfast and high tea. We followed the bellboy up the carpeted stairs past hundreds of framed bits of memorablia that lined the walls - photographs of notables, framed letters from Dominique Lapierre, posters of "City of Joy". photos of film stars and actors, family photos of Violet Smith, her parents, her children and grandchildren, framed articles from newspapers around the world about the hotel...one could spend hours just getting upstairs!

The upstairs contained several guestrooms, each door hidden behind a floral curtain, as well as a large salon with Victorian settees, armchairs, and coffee tables and a canopied square veranda which overlooked the "garden" (now a beer garden!). Off the salon was a walkway which led to a 2 story row of guestrooms behind the main house. The walls of the public areas were also crammed with framed memorabilia as well as glass-fronted cabinets containing everything from boxes of souvenir silver spoons to oriental tourist tchatchies and children's school projects!

Our room was large with a sitting area as well as a desk and armoire. Over the bed hung a portrait of a turbanned maharaja with an imposing mustache. There would be no tomfoolery under his watch! Even though the linoleum on the floor was peeling in several places, the room was spotless. There was a glass bookshelf with a variety of books left by travellers of all nationalities. We left a large volume on Indian Tort law that Lewis had acquired in Hyderabad and been lugging around as well as the memoirs that an academic had gifted to Lewis and we borrowed a guidebook for a few days.

We enjoyed meeting Violet Smith. Approaching her 90th birthday, she still is downstairs at breakfast to greet her guests and go over the books with her staff. She is more than eager to relate the story of the Fairlawn...I think she enjoys the notoriety of her age and tells you lots of details whether you are interested or not. There were a few details which made us bond with the hotel.

The land was acquired in 1798 and the house was erected in 1803 by a British family and served as their home for a generation. Then the building was used a a court house, a "sadar" in Bengali. This became distorted into "sudder" and became the name of the street, Sudder St. As Calcutta grew, the neighbourhood became a Jewish enclave and the home passed through a succession of Jewish owners. 1915 saw a flood of Armenians flee Turkey and move to India including Violet Smith's parents and the area around Sudder St. absorbed them as well. Today Violet Smith is one of the last of the Armenians and Mr. Nahoum who owns Nahoum's bakery down the street is the last of the Jews.

Violet's mother began the hotel and built the annex at the back. During the second world war, the Fairlawn was used to house Canadian troops and was called Canada House for the duration. After the war, the hotel was restored to its intended use. It is one of those places where locals as well as tourists enjoy the atmosphere.

We met a number of other guests there including a judge from Texas, a woman from Brussels who had spent 2 years volunteering in Bengal at a handicapped children's centre and a Canadian woman from Stratford who was about to spend her week in Calcutta volunteering at Mother Teresa's hospital.

I will not be getting a commission from the hotel but would readily recommend it to anyone heading to Calcutta.

Best,
Irene