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.

DELHI UNDERGROUND

IRENE'S SECOND POST FROM INDIA:

At present, we are in the NE state of Orissa and we are visiting
the tribal area. It is fascinating and very far removed from the email
I had prepared when I was last at an internet facility. Nevertheless,
I will proceed in order of the voyage. Just to keep you well informed
our itinerary is Delhi - Varanasi- Hyderabad- Bhubaneswar (Orissa)-
Calcutta - Gangtok (Sikkim) - Darjeeling - Delhi (perphaps a change or
two as we proceed. We are still relatively healthy!

Lewis was to meet with the vice chancellor (dean) of law at the National Law
Unversity, Delhi. We had imagined going to an old British colonial building
in the heart of Delhi perhaps with a leafy green courtyard. Instead we were
told that NLU Delhi is located in Dwarka - a remote suburb not far from the
airport.

Delhi above ground can be a very challenging experience. As our friend
Suhail told us," Delhi is not as organized as Mumbai. In Mumbai they do lane
driving". In Delhi, road traffic is a free for all. I often feel that the
vehicle I am riding is a ball in a multi-ball pinball game and someone else
is pulling the pin and tilting the surface. Cars clog every available
opening between the curbs creating ever changing flows of traffic. Gridlock
is not uncommon. Vehicles fight for supremacy and priority. Suhail's sage
advice to us: "Take the metro". Lewis had been told that the law school was
"just opposite the metro station" so we decided to try our luck.

If we were dubious about Delhi aboveground, what chaos would reign below? We
venture out of our tranquil Golf Links neighbourhood and flag a passing
rickshaw. A brief negociation of fare takes place and we speed off to
Paligiri Maidans Metro station.It is surrounded by lots of rickshaws, cars
and buses at the entrance. We passed through, put our knapsack on the Xray
belt, Lewis walks to the "gents'" scanner and I to the "ladies". I received
a very timid frisking from a bashful young woman in a khaki uniform who
averts her eyes.

We proceed to the wicket to purchase our tokens - fare is the equivalent of
50 cents. We follow the signs to the platform to await our train. The
station is spacious and CLEAN!!! An LED display announces the time of
the next train. A prim voice announces its arrival in Hindi and then repeats
it in English. Should we be expecting something more sinister? Where is
India?

The train is quiet and modern. There are maps above each door and stops
illuminate as we travel along the 45 stop length. Announcements in Hindi and
English rattle off the various stops and ask passenger : "Please do not sit
on car floors"..., "Remember to yield your seat to the physically
handicapped, the elderly and ladies"..."Kindly refrain from spitting in the
cars or in the station". It seems that every stop elicits a new request!

The metro ride to Dwarka 14 takes over 45 minutes. We are amazed at the
expanse of Delhi. The metro runs below ground in central Delhi but soon
climbs its way above most of the buildings and we are treated to quite a
view. Endless buildings are punctuated by occasional squares of green. Only
one unpleasant slum on the way to Dwarka. Innuumerable temples, huge white
gleaming stupas or red sandstone pyramidal temple entryways with gigantic
painted cement Shivas, Durgas, and Kalis. And just before Dwarka stop is an
area with sheds and yards housing dozens of water buffalo. We cannot figure
out if it is the Delhi Dairy or a stockyard.Suddenly the buildings, by some
unheard agreement, disappear - there is an expanse of open undeveloped land:
Dwarka 14.

We descend from the spanking clean, steel and glass metro station to a
dusty, treeless, featureless development zone. A few bicycle rickshaws are
in a line across the street, their drivers sleeping in the heat.We can see
several cement blocks of buildings rising in the distance , a mile or so
away. We rouse a driver and we perch awkwardly on the narrow board that
masquerades as a seat. We are grateful for the rickshaw's awning as the sun
is now very hot. Our driver rises on his pedals, leans heavily, and we begin
our progress to the newest law school in India...by bicycle.

Looking over my shoulder, I marvel at the constant contrast of India: the
most modern hand in hand with the old. Leaving a clean efficient metro with
computer driven trains that run on time to catch a dilapidated bicycle that
will bring us to the campus of the law university! And we could not have
made it to Lewis' appointment without either.

Irene