Extra #7 The End

I think its time to bring this to a close.  We've been home almost three weeks now and the blog has kept India alive for me for far longer than most holidays last, but everything has to end.

There are a few snippets of memories that I will leave with you before I close...

The Morris Oxford taxis in Kolkata, the design of which hadn't changed since the 1950's.

The schoolgirls in their school uniforms that looked as if they were straight out of Mallory Towers: pleated skirts, long socks and their hair so neat in little plaits tied with white ribbons.

The men and women who carry immense loads up steep hills on their backs, with straps over their heads - how do they do that?

The prayer flags everywhere - how I wanted to bring some home and hang them across the garden - but they wouldn't be right here, and are so right there.

The way the road would suddenly turn from being smooth tarmac to mud and rock, and how we had to hold on tight, our heads jolting from side to side as the driver negotiated rocks and potholes that would have a British driver suing the local council.

The way the foothills just went on and on and on, and how the shape of them was just so perfect.

We went to India, not only for a holiday, but also to make a connection with the past.  We did that, and so much more.  Kolkata was hugely interesting, but in the hills we met real kindness and friendliness.  In Kurseong Mr Shixit who helped us find Lakshmi Cottage; the officials at the Raj Bhavan in Gangtok; the ladies in Kurseong who wanted to check we weren't lost; the children calling 'hello'; the drivers who safely negotiated traffic, people, trucks and appalling roads; Suvendu in Kolkata whose knowledge was astounding; and last, but by no means least, Sunil Pradhan, who, as well as taking us to tourist attractions also took a genuine interest in finding places that were of personal significance to us.  It wouldn't have been the same experience without him. We owe him many thanks.

The End

Extra #6 Planes and Trains

Planes and Trains

We flew out to India in two shifts, via Dubai, with Emirates.  Waiting at Heathrow in the departure lounge, we realised that the first flight would be in one of those huge great double decker planes - the Airbus a380.   Great excitement - although of course we were downstairs, but still.  I have no idea how any plane stays up in the air, but the size of the a380 beggars belief.  Its a beautiful beast, with a blunt nose and enormous wings that curve gently away from the body of the plane.  Inside, of course, with it being new, it's pristine and at the risk of sounding like an advertisement, pretty spacious.  With films to watch and wine to drink, its not a bad way to travel.

Contrast our journey inside India...  It wasn't only that the planes felt old and rickety (on our flight from Kolkata to Bagdogra the seat in front of Andy was stuck in recline...), but the differences between the free and easy Indian people and we stiff upright Brits really came into focus. First there's the personal space issue.  We'd got used to being up close and personal in Kolkata - it's so crowded there's not much choice - but the scramble to get to our seats was a new experience, as was the way our seats were pulled around every time the person behind us wanted to move.  I ended up sitting with my arms behind my head, just to make the point that I was actually there.  Then there's the rule thing.  Now, I get on a plane and turn my phone off, put my seat belt on and check my seat is fully upright.  Very law-abiding.  On our first internal flight the man next to us chatted on his phone right up until take off, and I lost count of the number of people who were asked to put their seat belts on and their seat backs up.  Mind you, I guess the only thing that is likely to actually affect your chances of survival in a crash is to have your seat belt on... and that's probably marginal.  And we got where we were supposed to get safely, so why worry?

No such worries on the Darjeeling Himalayan Railway (Narrow Gauge), aka The Toy Train.  This is the train that my father would have taken from Kurseong to Siliguri and back at the beginning and end of his three day journey to and from school.  That particular part of the line is currently being repaired after a landslide, but it's open between Kurseong and Darjeeling.  It's a great little train - dusty, bumpy and rather elderly, but good fun - and although we didn't make it all the way to Darjeeling, I loved every minute of our trip.
The train runs alongside the road, crossing and re-crossing it on hairpin bends, signalling its presence with the inevitable tooting of the horn.  At times it hugs the hillside, at others the track is terrifyingly close to the edge.  Its far from fast - plenty of people hopped on and off as we trundled along.  Everyone leans out of the windows, and the views are, of course, fantastic.

It's an amazing feat of engineering.  Begun in 1879, it climbs from 400 feet at Siliguri to 7,407 feet at Ghum, with loops and zig-zags to help with the gradient.  It was initially built to carry goods, but passengers started to use it too, and it was a huge boost to the tourist industry.  Over its history it has had to contend with civil unrest as well as numerous landslides, earthquakes, cyclones and monsoon rains.  Together with the Teesta Valley Line it played a role in the transportation of men and goods for the 1921 Everest expedition and also in the transportation of troops and equipment during the Second World War.
These days it carries tourists, but it also has a charitable arm that supports schools, hospitals and other projects along its length.  Its a train that's going places...