Climbing 7500 feet up to Darjeeling....

           Too early for breakfast, I rick-shawed to the Jeep taxi stand near the bus terminal, Siliguri, and 

View of Darjeeling from hotel...

procured for myself, along with seven other passengers, a seat on the 77km, 2 ½ hr. climb up into the foothills and Darjeeling. This hill station, as it was referred to in the days of the Raj, effectively operated as the capital of India during the hot summer months when bureaucrats, army officers & politicians of the British colonial administration had it’s seat of government in hot steamy Calcutta (now referred to as Kolkata). In 1911, Delhi became the capital of India.

          The air here is much cooler, drier and less stifling than down on the Indian plain, ideal for the Memsahibs to socialise and party away the summer month. Very refreshing—the first time I have sported a pullover since arrival in Mumbai nearly 6 weeks ago.

          Darjeeling, pop: 109,000, elevation: 2200m/7000ft and is a city built on the side of steep hills. The town runs laterally across the hills, with a series of switch-backs enabling vehicles and pedestrians to move about the town. Short- circuiting the looping roads are a series of steep stone stairs that run

My shared JEEP taxi to Darjeeling..

between closely packed buildings. This morning. My JEEP taxi deposited me at a lower level in the town and I had to haul my heavy suitcase and bag up the stone stair system. Not a good idea if one is in less than fair physical condition --- indeed, I was puffing hard—of course, the 1 ½ mile vertical rise and thinner air did not help.

             First impression is: what a pleasant town. I have the feeling of having been transported out of India—the roads are clean here, cows do not wander the streets and the omnipresent beggars and homeless are not to be seen. White & other non- Indian tourists are not really numerous, but enough in evidence in Darjeeling so that the locals are accepting and tourists free from constant hawker hassling.

              Not sure if it is a remnant of Empire, but the school children in Darjeeling are neatly outfitted in school uniforms & badges, so in vogue in the UK in the 1950’s & 60’s. All observed so far are well behaved, speaking mainly in English. A church on the hill above my hotel belts out an electronic version of Big Ben’s chimes on the hour—at least it is a change from the wailing call to prayer from the mosques.
             Tonight, another night of Diwalli celebrations--close my eyes and with the constant pyrotechnics, hard to believe that I am not on the Syrian front lines.