Kurseong is lovely. Crowded, bustling, noisy, smelly and just full of people who smile and smile and smile. Music blares, wind chimes - well, chime - people shout and children compete to be the first to shout "hello" to the English people walking by.
There are butterflies almost as big as the hummingbirds in my sister's garden in Los Gatos; occasionally the clouds shift and the hills appear, and this morning the peaks of the Himalayas showed themselves for the first time.
And today - today I stood at the gates of a bungalow where my father lived for a time in 1928. As the lovely Mr Shixit talked to neighbours, and Andrew took photographs, I stood and imagined an 11 year old boy walking up with path, accompanied by a bearer carrying his bags from school and his mother coming out of the cottage to greet her son, home for the three month long holidays.
We have met such kindness here, and such a genuine interest in our quest and such a wish to help. I cannot imagine a better place to grow.
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