An unforgettable Christmas

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all. I apologise for not sending my traditional Christmas morning text message but this year I woke up in a small Nepalese village (if you can call a collection of 6 houses a village?) which had no mobile phone signal. It did however have spectacular views of the Himalayas. Although quite possibly the least traditional ever, my 2013 Christmas will be hard to forget. So where do I even begin?!

My last day in Kolkata was spent celebrating with the rest of school at the annual “Mela” – a large dancing/ singing/ performing show held at the school. Along with the other volunteers we performed the very neutral Jungle Book compilation (no colonial, religious or sexual references). Alice and I also teamed up with a Class 10 boy and performed the very popular dance “Badtameeza Dil”. Think iconic dance of Gangnam Style fused with traditional Hindi dance moves and two sweaty white 20-something year olds. We dressed appropriately in our recently purchased saris; much comfier than anticipated. I still struggle with the idea that as a woman showing your midriff is perfectly acceptable but a flash of shoulder or leg results in disapproving looks from both men and women!

Me and Surajit, the Class 10 pupil with whom we performed Badtameeza Dil

Then on the 22^nd December off I headed up to the Himalayan foothills with the school’s PE teacher and six Class 11 students, aged between 17-20. Unsurprisingly none of our public transport options ran smoothly. On the journey north, we incurred a 10 hour delay on our sleeper train. However to prevent further delays we instead boarded another train without reservations. This led to one of my most Indian experiences yet – travelling “General” class. Now when you think of travelling through India by train you probably image up chickens in cages flapping around, hundreds of people squeezed into a space which comfortable fits ten, and all shapes and sizes of packages and bags. Now add in a terrified, wide eyed white girl and you’ve got exactly what happened on the way to Darjeeling. In an effort to look after me, the students suggested I sit in the upper luggage rack to avoid at least some of the stares. The metal shelf provided little comfort as a bed that night. An experience I will neither forget nor repeat!

We eventually arrived in the mountains and started our 8 day trek through the Singalila National Park. Although we’d been told about the incredible views I never anticipated seeing Kanchenjunga and more beautifully Everest along the way! The trek weaved its way up to a height of 3636m, peaking at Sandakpur. The first few days were mainly spent climbing dirt tracks and broken roads with gradients I have never climbed before. I’m sure a 2:3 gradient would not be an exaggeration.  And we were trekking without porters to build mental and physical strength, carrying all of our own luggage! No matters, the view helped remove the pains from the uphill climbs. My favourite day had to be the 21km trek from Sandakpur to Phalut. Throughout the whole day we walked towards the dominating view of Kanchenjunga, while Everest sat on our left hand horizon. Incredible.

Christmas Morning started in a small village of Tumling. Immediately I donned my Santa’s hat and lit up my mini Christmas tree that Matt had sent via India mail; most of the consumable chocolate presents had already miraculously disappeared! We got up in time to watch the sun climb above the clouds; the pink rays cast themselves across the clear view of Kanchenjunga, truly magical. I half expected to see a silhouette of a sleigh being pulled across the horizon. I spent much of Christmas day singing Christmas carols, much to the amusement of the other trekkers.

Christmas Morning in front of Kanchenjunga. 

Along the route we stayed in trekkers’ huts – small, simple barn like structures containing an Indian toilet, a bucket and something that represented a bed. I say represented as the wooden planks covered with a thin sheet offered little comfort. However most nights we were so tired by 9pm I could have slept anywhere. Temperatures got down to minus 8°C in a place called Phalut. I say place, had it not been for the single building in which we stayed, Phalut would just be another non- descript kink along the ridge trek. It did however offer incredible views of sunset over Everest!

Everest hiding on the Horizon. The flag doesn't begin to show how windy it was!

Washing on a morning was a whole new experience. I quickly realised the 20L bucket in the corner of the toilet room was to be my sole showering hope. I have a whole new level of respect for the millions who clean themselves every morning using only a bucket. I think the worst day was in Phalut when I went to carry out the morning’s ablutions and found the water had frozen. Apparently I wasn’t the only one struggling to deal with the sub zero conditions!

Our trek started in a very cloudy Maneybhanjang, travelling through to Tumling, Kalapochari, Sandakpur, Phalut, Ghorkey, Sirikhola and finished 89km later in Rimbik. We took a rest day in Ghorkey, a tiny farming hillside village. We explored the local area, taking time to play with the kids and simply watch day-to-day life in a self sufficient community. We weren’t the only ones taking a break there. Smugglers taking alcohol and other taxable goods were using it as a base until the sunset and they could complete their climb into Nepal. Good to know we were in safe company...

Unfortunately there wasn’t a single roast turkey, brussel sprout or Yorkshire pudding along the route. For 10 days my diet consisted of eating rice, potatoes, daal, Indian breads (chapatti, puri, luchee, roti) and the Indian equivalent of super noodles, affectionately known locally as “Maggi”. Oh and a boat load of chai! The food was padded out by a supply of luminous orange biscuits, miniature Dairy Milks, and a jelly-like mango treat which became the highlight of my days. Needless to say by the time we hit Darjeeling I was craving meat!

I’m not sure what you all expect of Darjeeling. I had images of a white washed, imperial, hill-top town full of Nepalese smiling children running through impeccably clean streets and tea cafes everywhere. What we found was quite different. Personally I found it a collection of tired and crumbling buildings, housing hundreds of shops selling tat and dubious “silk scarves”. Oh and lots of street children and Nepalese teenagers with serious attitude problems.

Prayer Flags at the Hill Top Monastery in Darjeeling. 

The visit to a tea plantation was a welcome break. The Ging Tea estate supplies tea to Harrods and of course Yorkshire Tea. Mr Ravinder, the estate’s manager, gave us a personalised tour of the 600+hectare estate and factory. Home around 6000 people, 800 of which are employees, the estate is self sufficient with its own schools, doctors and farming community. A cup of tea will never taste the same, knowing now all the processes which go into creating it! The afternoon was spent at the zoo and the Himalayan Mountaineers Institute: the first of which played home to many frustrated big cats housed in cages far too small for their size; the latter was home to the well documented history of Everest’s conquerors. Elsa – I spent most of my time reading and looking at the numerous photos of Mallory. You’ll be happy to hear his adventures are well documented.   

The picturesque setting of the Ging Tea Estate.

We spent the evening dancing in the main square of Darjeeling at the Tourist and Tea festival. This was probably my best memory of the town itself, doing the “Lungee dance”. Once again a lot of unwanted attention but the boys had become very good at being protective.

The next day we started our trip back to Kolkata, another long journey. Firstly we took a 3 hour jeep ride down the steep, curving mountain roads. A worrying stop in a little village did little to settle my nerves, especially when the driver started doing self maintenance on the apparently dodgy brakes. Upon setting off, the emergency stops were meant to re-assure us.... At NJP station we sat for what became 6 hours; again our train was delayed, at least this time it was only by 2 hours. We happened to sit in what was apparently the sick bay. During our wait, three stretchers were placed within a few meters of us. The emergency response team of India obviously doesn’t have the same targets as the UK’s paramedic service. (Lizzy your 8 minute response time would break records over here). One of the injured was a man who appeared to have severed his foot half off. My stomach churned on realising what was sat in front of us. The poor guy was laid on the path for a good 5 minutes while the driver and a few other random Indian’s discussed what the next action was in their rescue plan. I would have thought the waiting ambulance and the local hospital would have been the logical answer but it took a mother’s meeting to decide this. After placing the half footed man in the ambulance cum 4x4 car, the rescue party again took another 10 minute discussion while half of India took turns in staring through the car windows at the bleeding man. His bloodied stretcher was replaced back on the platform, metres from where we would later eat our dinner. Delightful. I pray I will never need an emergency response team out here.

Finally we reached Kolkata and said our goodbyes. It was a memorable Christmas vacation with 7 fantastic individuals, none of whom I will forget. I’ll miss their daily Bengali lessons and constant energy and laughter.

Tomorrow I head to Rajasthan, first stop the Taj Mahal.

Let me know how all your Christmas’s were. Even if I didn’t eat a roast potato or get a slice of Christmas pudding, I’d still love to hear your festive memories.

Lots of Indian Love.