Zen and the Art of leaving Kasar Devi

Kasar Devi does not appear on the map but it gets a very brief mention in the Lonely Planet - thank goodness it has still not been completely overun by us. You cant even find Kasar Devi without help. Kasar Devi consists of a long narrow street which splits in twwo at a little fork and along this road and a half are a number of guest houses - the tourist population is mainly Israelis and at least half, if not more are riding Enfields. KD is perched on top of a little hill and on a clear day you can see across huge mountain ranges the hugest of them all, the mighty, snowtopped Himalaya (sorry, I kind of got carried away there). Anyway its pretty impressive and even on an overcast day you can see acroos the valley for miles into the mountains. It's very tranquil, electricity is the exception rather than the norm and even when its on its weak and the light flickers and there is no running water. The locals hump it up from the stream some 100 meters below us in buckets and jerry cans and for the first time in my life I used bottled water to brush my teeth. If the water were clean you could have a clean hot shower if

you could get hot water.



But every morning I'd wake up to the view and at 7:30 the litlle girls in the little school across the little valley would raise their little voices and sing for half an hour at school "assembly". The peons till their fields with oxen and monkeys scamper about and birds sing and it was almost paradise (the grass was crap).



Besides enjoying nature there are 3 centers of entertainment and meeting in KD. In the morning there is Mohans which has high-speed internet, great muffins and the sun in the morning. Then there is the Galaxy which is where you sit in the late afternoon if its warm, to watch the sunset or if its cold you crowd into the one room and eat supper. I did try their snitzchel but it was more like KFC and I dont like KFC.



The third and most important center of socializing and activity is Danis' Enfield Garage run by Dani and his brother Dani. For some reason every bike that reaches KD needs an overhaul or some other major repair job or at the very least a 2000km service. Dani and Dani know nothing about motorbikes (apparently they have property and several businesses, our Danis do) but they

do employ a very talented mechanic called Asim. However Asim works alone, no

assistants and he is completely illiterate, cannot even write his own name so if he finds a problem that he hasn't dealt with before he cannot go to the manual, which they don't have anyway, but must proceed by trial and error. At any one time there are at least 4 bikes and their owners screaming for attention and Dani is bouncing around trying to calm everyone down and promising everyone the earth and that he'll be first out and pandemonium reigns. Things calm down after a while and we all sit around drinking tea, chai or coke brought by the 12 year old "babu" who works at the kiosk just down the road and swap stories of our adventures on the highways of India and the mechanics who have fucked us or not.



We become used to spending our days at Danis and only occaisionally wander off to the market in Almora which is a totally local one, nothing for the greedy tourist (since leaving Pokhara I have had no desire to shop at all, maybe I am kicking the habit). I was lucky, the work on my bike was mainly cosmetic and though I spent hours sitting around and waiting the work only took a few minutes and a few rhupees.



Finally we were all ready. Even Noam's bike, which had stubbornly defied repair was pronounced fit to travel. We decided to leave the next day, Friday the 13th (and I can hear your ominous sighs but we're Jewish for Christ's sake, for us 13 is a lucky number). Toto did voice an objection but very quietly and I was the only one who noticed and I told him that he was not fit to make a judgement (this because he had just become number 36 or 46 on Ms X's list (Noam had been number 35 or 45)  and wanted one more night of passion as she was leaving on Saturday. On Friday everyone except Toto got up and started packing and by about 12 we were ready to roll. Although we did only take delivery of Noams bike that morning but it was supposed to be in perfect working order. Except for Toto but he too was eventually persuaded to move and by about 3 (!) we were ready to roll. Except that Noam's bike died on him again and we went back to Dani and Dani. Fortunately the road from KD to Almora is almost all downhill and Noam managed to coast down to the garage where there were three Israeli bikes being worked on and it soon became clear that Almora was as far as we were going to get that day. Indeed, we spent the night in an empty flat below the garage which was owned by the Danis and was due to be let in the near future. It did have a hot water boiler but we ran out of water after only two guys had showered. As soon as it became clear that we were not moving Toto rushed up the hill and got his (last) night of passion.



The next morning we got up, all the bikes were working and we set off. the journey to Rishikesh took two days of not too hard riding, we couldnt go more than 55kph because Toto's engine was being run in. And now we are here and this is another picturesque town with more cows than I have seen up till now in any other town, in addition there are monkeys all over and although I have not been bothered by them they often become very troublesome (is that how you spell it?). The big problem is that there is nothing here for me to eat, since this is a particularly holy area, on the banks of the Ganges and all that, everything is veg or pure veg or purest veg. Mind you we did organize a chicken BBQ last night but it was still only chicken.



Tomorrow we are probably leaving (I still have some "luf" and Nepali biltong) and heading to the Paravati valley although since my companions are all still in the garage (again) I am not too sure about that.



Till next time.

Powered by ScribeFire.

Back in India

I woke up this morning to the sun on my back and the Himalayas right in my face - I didnt see this in Nepal.



I left Pokhara comfortably early after a 2 cups of coffee and as many joints (okay 3). the first 150 kms was a magnificent twisting turning mountain road in good repair but despite that the going is slow but despite stopping too often for photo ops i made it down to the Nepali plains in about 4.5 hours and then had a straight run through to Kolhapur where I slept in what was probably the most miserable guesthouse of my life. The next morning I got up early again had a cup of coffee and a joint and set out for India. I did the 200 kms without any problems and crossing the border despite.... was no problem.



I looked at my trusty map and there were 2 routes to Kasar Devi where I now am, a long route and a short route, I chose the short (obviously!). BIG mistake, big, big, big mistake! there is an old Scottish song that goes something like this "You'll take the high road and I'll take the low road and I'll be in Scotland before you" (or vice versa). Anyway I took the high road and very shortly regretted it, the view along the way is staggerig, you drive along the edge of the mountain with a sheer drop to the valley floor hundreds of meters down and a clear view across the valley to the other side which is dotted with little farms and famers plowing the fields far below with their oxen and wooden plow as they ignore the twenty first centuary and just get on with their daily 12th centuary lives. They draw water from the well by the river and carry it home in jerry-cans on their heads, sometimes hundreds of meters down to the river and then up again. And I breeze past on my bike and when I stop they gather around (I'd forgotten about that in Nepal, but here in the north they seem less intrusive).



And the road gets bad, really bad, apparently there is a big project on to improve it at the moment and from my experience here that means first tearing it up, without building western style bypasses and you end up with a one lane track creeping up and down the mountain cars and jeeps and buses come at you from both directions and since arriving in India I have become the most patient and least agressive of drivers I let anyone who wants to pass do so. But still I have a good vehicle and I make good time and pass most other vehicles which are generally slower and on this road very considerate. At about 3pm I decide its time to stop and I begin looking for a guesthouse and at 6 I still havent found one and I'm starting to worry but I've still got 45 minutes of daylight, the trouble is that there has unly

been one town along the way and I didnt see a guesthouse or lodging and whenever I asked someone they just wagged their heads at me and gave no sign of understanding or intention of answering. The road runs along a steep

bottomless cliff and when cars or lorries come towards me one of us has to stop to let the other pass, and I see no motorbikes. And no guesthouse.



Suddenly it is dark, really dark, pitch black dark and I have nowhere to go except on. So I drive very slowly and carefully and I can see nothing and part of me is grateful for that because I'm not sure I want to se down. I approach a little village and hooray, theres a guesthouse but when I inspect it I know that I have reached the point of no return, I'm not spending the night here. On my way again and my shoulders are sore and despite my new seat my arse aches and there is nowhere to stop. By the side of the road I see 3 horse herders with a little fire so I stop to get warm, remember, I'm high in the mountains here. Then after a smoke and a natter in Hindi and Hebrew the fire goes out and they get up and I'm off again.



During the hours of darkness i met no more than ten vehicles and 6 of them were huge Tatas in convoy. I understand now why that was so. Only a total nutter drives that road at night!



Long story short, at about 10:30 I finally reach Almora and there a friendly, helpful local gets on his motorbike and leads me to Kasar Devi which I would never have found on my own and I quickly find my friends. I am wasted. They took the low road and had an easy time of it.



When I had finally rested up I realized that I had known all along that I was taking the tough route, it is obvious on the map, it looks shorter for fuck's sake, that is always a good indicator. And I wanted to do the whole route even if, maybe especially if I could do part of it in the dark.



And the next morning I woke up and there were the Himalayas, snow topped and reaching the sky and the sun was shining warmly on my back and I had a cup of decaffe in one hand and a joint in the other and complete silence all around. I felt a great sense of achievement and was at peace with the world (again) and the ride had been worth it.

Powered by ScribeFire.

I leave Nepal

I leave Nepal, well not exactly Nepal as I will need to drive for at least two days before I reach the border but I am leaving Pokhara which is probably the last place where I can have a steak before getting back to Israel in 4 months time. But I have bought a few tins of "luf" to eat along the way and I should survive. In addition, for those of South African descent, I found the local "biltong" and except for being a bit hotter than I'm used to it is fine, much better than beef jerky as found in the USA or the Far East, I bought 750 grams and that may last me for a couple of days on the road.



After Katmandu, remember Katmandu? I rode to Chitwan Nature Reserve which specialises in Rhinos and I have never really seen a live rhino in the wild close up. I left Katmandu with Noam, Elad, Tomer and Kobi whose bikes were more loaded than an Indian - they have evrything with them, a stereo, cooking equipment, matresses, a tool box, an electric kettle and a juice mixer and other home comforts and ameneties to numerous to mention. They are unbelievably well organized and the way they load up in less than 8 hours is truely amazing and I'm not sure how they can ride even though I saw it with my own eyes. We drove all day but didnt get very far as travelling in convoy means often waiting for some one with a problem, idea or excellent photo op. It was great fun however and after spending the night in Narayanghat (an incredibly long name for a dust covered nothing town but that is what one finds all over India and Nepal) we split up (after a great photo op) with them heading for India, despite my please for them to join me and me heading

for Chitwan alone.



On the way to Chitwan I met Amichai and Adi and spent time with them when I was not chasing animals. In chitwan I had a ball if though it is not quite up to the standard of the Kruger it is much better than Thekkkadi (sorry, Paula). I arrived at about 3pm and immediately after checking into my not outstanding but adequate guest house - if you are going to Chitwan go to the Parkside , it is exquisite, not like the Eden where I was - I took a guide and went of to the area called 20000 lakes (I saw one) and driving along on my bike I saw several spotted deer and a huge fucking rhino grazing happily 20 meters away - fortunately there was a river between us.



The next morning I drove out to the Elephant Breeding Center which was an amazing experience, you get to interact with the babies (baby bulldozers) without a fence between you and them. I fed them special elephant biscuits and got pushed lightly - for a baby elephant - when they wanted more - it was great fun and I came away with a really good feeling, From there I wandered down to the river bank and there were elephants and people frolicking in the river together. I determined to do that but didnt have time before my jeep safari on which I saw another rhino, a baby, he was quite far away and all we saw was the top of his back but it was great fun and I was not disappointed (as I was in Thekkadi but overcame). I booked an elephant safari for the next morning and while riding on their backs is not very comfortable (not at all like the pictures you see of people on elephant back during the time of the Raj, I did see another 4 rhinos very, very close up and my needs were satisfied. During the safari we stopped somewhere and the mahout (elephant driver) got off, the elephant then picked up a stick and used it to scratch her head - I was amazed because I've never heard of elephants, or any other animals besides primates, using tools.



After the safari I went down to the river and bathed with the elephant and it was fun! To get onto her back I first had to climb onto her head and she didn't flinch despite my nearly 90 kgs. First she gave me a shower as I was sitting on her back and then she got down on her knees and rolled over into the water spilling me off. I then helped the mahout wash her and had as much fun as any 7 year old. It made up for what I had missed when I didnt take the opportunity to bathe with an elephant which I'd missed on my way back from Kunyakumari in January (I may or may not have written about it).



At about 1pm I left Chitwan with Adi on the pillion and I lost something off the bike for the first time - just a little backpack (Jason's, actually, which I had taken from Paula but there was nothing important in it so no worries mate!). I have been in Pokhara now for 5 nights and eaten about 7 steaks and it is time to leave - I am NOT trekking - and tomorrow I am heading off for India again - a place called Kasar devi about 800 kms from here. Pokhara has been lovely, great weather, great food, great company and great scenery even though the clouds have not bothered to move since I got here and I can't see the snow-covered Annapurna range.



My next letter will be from India again.

Powered by ScribeFire.

I am now in Katmandu, I have always wanted to visit Katmandu ever since in the 70s the country first opened up and became a mecca for travellers and hippies (I wanted to be a hippy but somehow found myself "making war not love" instead of the opposite). And as I descended from the mountains and first saw the city from far away and above I could almost believe that it
had not changed, but of course when I got closer I could see that it was not a crowded, poverty stricken slum infested ( Indian) city but one with a special charm of its own. And I have already eaten 2 steaks though I only arrived about 30 hours ago.

I entered Nepal from the East, near Siliguri in north West Bengal. The border crossing was easy and then I drove west along the Nepali highway and the road was not at all bad. nepal, I could se was far less crowded than India and obviously much poorer, hard as that may be to believe. There are far less vehicles on the road, the most popular motor vehicle is the tractor and there are many more bicycles than mopeds. The buses and trucks are more heavily loaded but seem to drive less maniacely than there southern neighbours.

After driving about 350 kilometers to the west the road branched northwards into the mountains and I left the plains behind eventually reaching Danam at a level of 2322 meters where I spent the night. From the Lonely Planet I had gotten the impression that Daman was a small town or village - actually it is a collection of 5 hotels and 2 dhabbas with a population of about 100, and that night I was the only guest. But the view the next morning from the hotel viewing tower and restaurant was amazing. The road over the mountains was breathtaking, I could see down far below where I had started from, I could see the road winding up and down the valley opposite and the mountains climbing ever higher. Every available centimeter is utilised for agriculture and the mountainsides are covered with terraces built over hundreds of years and tens of generations. I stopped every 5 minutes to take pictures none of which can really do the scenery justice. On hills and peaks and in valleys are perched little homes full of little Nepalese and as I passed all the children yelled "Bye" and the adults yelled "Namaste" and I return all the greetings and smile like crazy.

And then I was out of the mountain and there was Katmandu in front and a little below me and it is pleasanter than anywhere I have been in the last 5 months. I drove into the city and found where I wanted to go and suddenly I was in the courtyard of a hotel and there were 4 other Enfields there and I could see they were Israelis and indeed they belonged to Elad and Tomer and Kobi and Noam and I will be riding with them to Pokhara early next week - a real motorcycle "gang"

I have travelled for just under five months, ridden 9500 kms, worn out 2 helmets (I have just bought my 3rd, one camera and 2 pairs of jeans, read 53 books, among them War and Peace 888 pages, Shantaram - over 850 pages and A Suitable Boy - 1350 pages!, I have slept in about 80 different beds and packed or unpacked my bike 160 times. I have serviced the bike 4 times and
had 4 breakdowns on the way. I have missed about 80 meals and 160 helpings of meat, I have met about 150 people and forgotten about 130 names (Guess and hope), I have been to 10 cities, 20 towns and 10000 villages. I have driven up and down mountains, across huge empty rivers (which will flood come the monsoon) and across plains, I have driven along the coast and
avoided accident successfully so far. I have seen pigs and chickens and ducks and pheasant and cows and buffalo and horses and jackals and wild pigs and camels and elephants and horses and many weird varieties of people, transport and habitation. And it has been fun and a great adventure. From here I start the second half of my journy.

I AM ALSO 61 YEARS YOUNG TODAY (but that wont go on forever) and I have 3 great kids, may I say 5 great kids? Yes indeed I can, 4 awesome grandchildren (who have me almost wrapped around their little fingers) a mother who still drives her car - be warned all who enter Tel Aviv, two crazy sisters who are also my friends and 9 nephews and nieces who I have known all their lives, many, many cousins all around the world and of course countless friends who I cherish. And that is more than any trip around India on an Enfield which I have to tell you is a thrilling experience.

I love you all.

Since the greatest thing about a birthday for me is what I get (I'm not greedy, all I want is presents and BJs) I went out today and spent myself silly. A real ball. To top off the shopping spree I went to the Himalayan Steak House and had a magnificent steak.

I was going to write a lot more shit like how the road to Katmandu is like the road to love, winding, twisting, obstacle strewn, pot-holed, up hills and down dales but since I met so few cars going in either direction, and you gotta meet "vehicles" on the road to love, the analogy somehow breaks down. Mind you if I take into account all the monkeys I met it could work for those of the female persuasion.

I wanted to write more but my fingers are getting tired - arent you all lucky! So for all those who have sent me birthday greetinggs, and for all those who after reading this decide to send greetings, thank you, I love you too (see paragraph 7 (thats the very short one).

Keep on reading.

To Darjeeling - Zen and the art of riding a motorcycle in India - Part 3

This may be long, I feel muses descending on and inspiration flooding me and I may wax more than usually loquacious - feel free to not read it. However be warned, a pop-test will be given in a couple of weeks.

Motorcycles in India are sold not as recreational vehicles like in the West (and I include Israel in the West- okay!) but as family vehicles and indeed it is not unusual to see a family of 5 riding on a 50 - 150 cc vehicle. Motorcycles are not just a normal part of family life, they are often demanded as part of the dowry from the girls family and may even be the reason for canceling a marriage. They are without doubt the most numerous vehicle on the road, both in the towns and the cities where they all drive any whichway, even the girls, and there are very few of them, drive like Shiite suicide bombers - What about your families people? Oh that doesn't matter, apparently they have reincarnation here. Out on the country roads there are millions of them driving between the tiny and tinier villages and the various towns along the way and the huge busses and trucks miss them by millimeters as they flash past (I'm also in there somewhere). And they ride along in all their finery with all their kids and huge parcels as they head off to a wedding or birth or some other happy celebration. Enfields, which I and most other tourists ride are not popular with Indians because they have a high fuel consumption rate, between 25 (me) and 32 kms per liter (the member of the Darjiling Enfielders - the local motorcycle gang, who I met at Sunjay, the cleanest mechanic of any sort I have ever met when I took my bike in to be serviced after the 3000 odd kms I have done since leaving Pondicherry where I serviced it last). However as I have now discovered there are numerous motorcycle clubs all around India such as the Darjiling Enfielders and the Chenai Bulls I mentioned earlier and of course a club in Katamandu called, originally enough the Himalayan Enfielders. I imagine that there are many more around the country.

I left Puri early in the morning and for an hour drove on the highway towards Kolkotta (Calcutta) and then managed to get north of the city and on my way to Darjiling without going into the "black Hole" and I only saw one mention of Mother Theresa as in some sort of orphanage then the highway ended and I was back on regular country roads. Country roads in India and that includes the state and interstate "highways" are always narrow, usually potholed and often winding with sharp blind curves. In addition, the villages and towns often come right up to the highway and there is loads of non-vehacular activity up to and including the odd game of cricket! It is what I imagine the old Route 66 which crossed America must have looked like except dirtier and much, much more obviously poverty stricken. Of course there is life all along the road, it is difficult to stop somewhere where there are no people, and if you find such a place within 2 minutes they have popped out of thee ground to stare at the wierd Westerner, and all Westerners are by definition weird.



From Puri I was on the hghway, the really good one, and despite stopping for many of the magnificent photo ops (and there is one about every 10 minutes) I made good time along the road. The first photo op that day was a enormous, bigger than I have seen up till now, beautiful, painted elephant walking sedately towards me on the other side of the road, I slammed on my brakes (carefully), pulled out my camera and the mahout, riding on the pachyderm with his clothes, pots and pans tied around him, crossed the devider to make it easier for my to take pictures and even put the elephant through some excercises in which it touched me and then took my (completely freely given) donation out of my hand and passing it to his master, we then said goodbye, he in Hindi and me in Hebrew and went our respective ways.

As I said I made good time and towards 5 Pm I started looking for a hotel but there was nothing at all along the way. It started getting dark and I started getting near to Calcutta which I really didnt want tio visit. I went on driving and it did indeed become dark and still no hotel. I stopped at a truckdrivers dhaba, I have discovered, despite my earlier reservations that they are the best place to stop, for a cup of chai and a smoke. By the time I got back on the road it was completely dark but fortunately after about 10 minutes I found a little hotel by the side of the road in a town I later discovered was called Purba Medinipur - total Nowheresville - I doubt that a westerner has ever stayed there before. The day manager Sonai, who was going off duty begged me to take a photo and then send it to him. I took a couple of pictures and have since printed them out and will post them tomorrow, a little positive PR for Israel cannot do any harm. At 11:30 there was banging on the door and the drunken night manager demanded to know if there was anything he could get me - I politely declined. By the time I stopped I had driven about 450 kms and was only 50 kms south of Kolkotta which I was determined to avoid by any means.

One of the more interesting sights I saw was "Shit On A Stick". As I passed through a number of villages I noticed that a lot of the houses had sticks with some sort of material tied to them - looked like oversized "kebabs", there were also patties which looked like hamburgers. Unable to resist my curiosity I stopped and went to examine the kebabs and hamburgers, although I have a much weakened sense of smell due to too much smoking over the years, my nose immediately informed me what I was dealing with. It is used as fuel for fires, apparently the villagers collect it and prepare the patties and sticks which they then either use or sell.

The next morning I got up early, had no coffee - remember the night manager? And set off happily on my way. after about 100 kms I heard a wrong noise coming from the front wheel, I stopped and found that the screws on the front mudguard had come loose and one of them had so unscrewed itself that it was pressing against the tyre and gauging a furrow in it. I opened my toolkit and tried to rescrew it but could not get a grip. Despite some misgivings I drove back to a truckstop I had passed (going the wrong way on the highway just like all the other maniacs with neccessity) and there a guy loosened the wheel and fixed the problem - when I offered him 30 rhupees he would accept only 20. I then set off again and discovered that the speedometer was not working and despite everything I tried and the one motorcycle repair shop I stopped at we could not get it working again - it would have to wait till Darjeeling.

That day was the start of Holi, a holiday where they Hindus paint themselves and throw paint at others, this festival continues for 2 days. Everywhere along the road I saw happy men (and 6 women) all painted in different colours on every exposed part of the body, groups throwing powdered paint or shooting water pistols full of coloured water at each other and at "innocent" passersby (or should that be "passerbys" - come on English teachers and native-speakers) and of course I got splattered too. In addition there were "road blocks" along the way where vehicles were stopped and painted. Due to my westernliness I was spared by the road blocks for quite a while until a group of young men decided I needed a dousing and then I was green and blue and red and yellow and is how I arrived at the hotel Sunjoy Hotel, Restaurant and Bar in Berhapur. The restaurant served me a very respectable fish dinner but besides that and the lake with promenade, which has been taken over by the poverty stricken and turned into a slum, the town was unremarkable. Everything, (well this is India and you have to make a buck all the time and at all costs, so not quite everything but definately anything) which might interest me, was closed.

What I did notice was the fantastic number of cycle-rickshas, hundreds of them and from then all along the way that is what I saw, no auto-rickshas here, in addition there are horse drawn carts, flat top bicycle rickshas (as opposed to those with seats), bullock-carts and even mopeds converted to carts (use your imaginations).

The scenery along the way has been magnificent, green rice paddies, wheat fields (the problem here is that they spread the wheat on the road for passing vehicles to thresh, unfortunately it has the same effect as oil so you have to be very careful to not spin out of control - I generally drive onto the shoulder and around the wheat), rivers, palm trees, tiny villages and their fascinating inhabitants - many of them still deep in the 12th centuary. Spread all around were palm trees and otheres I dont know, low hills and cloudless skies, truckstops, dhabbas, kiosks, little shops, cattle markets and even a body being burnt at a river running beside the road (I did not stop there to take pictures - I'll get the burning body thing in Varanase). Animals gallore, I've already mentioned the elephant, in addition I met horses, cows, goats, buffalo (Indian), dogs, horses, chickens, ducks, a camel, a herd of wild pigs that seemed to have been domesticated, regular pigs, a wild jackal and many, many monkeys most of which were quite unbothered when I stopped beside them. And of course all the thousands of vehicles of every description and all the larger ones were try to, if not kill, at least drive me off the road).

After driving all day and covering about 280 kms I found lodging in the Highway hotel in Kishanganj (it appears on good maps). But lodging was all, no food anywhere - Holi! But they could give me bread so I ended up eating a couple of "luf" (like spam, only kosher -J.B.) sandwiches and "luf" with chips and finally just plain "luf. The hotel was on the main road and between two railway lines and despite the holiday it was noisy!, very noisy and while I tried to watch TV the noise bothered me but I had had a hard days riding and once I fell asleep nothing bothered me till the next morning. And despite having nothing they could give me hot water so I had coffee before I left. Coffee is so important for starting the day right, I can start without it but it makes a difference if I have it and its not always easy to explain to an Indian that all I want is a glass of boiling water and sugar! (okay, so I'm weird, but I wouldn't be here if I weren't).

I was now only about 180 kms from Darjeeling and reckoned that I would have an easy drive. The first 100 were indeed easy, nothing really difficult about it, just an ordinary badly maintained Indian road with everybody driving every which way - a doddle! And then I reached Siliguri, the last city before the hills. After getting through Siliguri I drove for about 10 minutes and then stopped at a truckstop dhabba for some chai and a joint. Within minutes I was joined by a young man who started talking to me and the first thing he said that he was only there visiting his family, he does in fact have a carrere outside of the village. He then went on to tell me that he was an expert at cooking and preparing Israeli food, malawach, shakshouka, hummus, etc. and that he travels around from Manali to Varanase to Rishikesh to wherever the Israelis go. He will make his fortune as an

Israeli cook, at this stage I told him that I was Israeli and he said "sababa", the first word foriegners are taught when they stick around Israelis. He then disappeared for 5 minutes and returned with a little baggie for which he refused to accept payment. I find myself taking some pride in the fact that an Indian boy (from the sticks, its true) is so taken with my countryman that he sees us as the way to a secure future. Not only that but it reinforces what I have said before about the young Israelis being decent, pleasant and welcome. Thanks again guys.



After I left Siliguri the road became both interesting and scary - I met a number of army convoys - were near the border here and the Indians are as paranoid as the Israelis, especially when it comes to moslems around them and among them, The road became steeper, more winding, narrower and more potholed. On the other hand the view became more beautiful as I climbed and suddenly I crossed the track of the "Toy Train" which travels between Darjeeling and Siliguri (ad description of Darjeeling and the surroundings will follow). And it is like riding through "Toyland" with little houses, and I mean little, I cant stand up in the doorways, I measured a couple. The houses are all neat and clean and cosy looking and many of them have neat, pretty pretty gardens or at least rows of potplants and they come right up to the track and some of the stoeps look like little railway stations and you can see into some of the houses and there are Noddy and Bigears! As you go up the cliff, which is on your left (I"ll be much happier on the way down with the mountain on my right) the drop becomes higher and sheerer and scarier with (mainly) jeeps coming at you from in front and behind at maniac speed (while here in Darjeeling I have looked at some of the jeeps from close-up and many of them have no tread at all on their tyres) and you pull over as far as you can but carefully as the road doesnt always have a barrier at cliff edge! Suddenly, as I watched, a mist came climbing out of the valleys and visibility dropped to below 10 meters (remember crossing the Bighorn Mountain Shani? This was worse) and what had been scary before became almost terrifying. But I persevered and then I was above the clouds and Darjeeling was revealed, perched up and down the mountainside in front and all around and beyond the houses tea fields and it was gorgeous.

Pictures will follow.

Still Darjeeling (I think that is finally the correct spelling...)

(Editor's note: I haven't properly proofread this post, so please excuse my haste -J.B.)



I like this place more than any other I have been in in India - it is much cleaner, much better preserved, the people are nice (and good looking Nepalese mainly) and I have found a place that has excellent food. There are

no touts and very little pressure to buy.



IMPORTANT



ON THE OTHER HAND, BECAUSE IT IS SO HIGH AND SO COLD THIS IS SWEATERLAND - MUCH BEAUTIFUL HANDMADE JERSEYS ETC. I COULD NOT HELP GOING INTO A " WOMANS SELF HELP" SHOP AND BUYING WHAT I THINK ARE LOVELY SWEATERS FOR THE KIDS - ALL 4 - AND I HAVE POSTED THEM AIRMAIL TO ROY. THEY SHOULD BE THERE FOR PESACH. AS I SAID THIS IS SWEATERLAND AND I WOULD LOVE TO BUY SOME FOR ALL

OF YOU, OR FOR THOSE WHO TRUST MY TASTE. IF THE PARCEL IS NOT TOO BIG I CAN SEND IT AIRMAIL OTHERWISE IT IS OF COURSE FAR CHEAPER TO SEND IT SNAIL-SNAIL MAIL. WHATEVER, I WILL BE HERE FOR AT LEAST ANOTHER 3 DAYS SO YOU CAN ANSWER BEFORE THEN.



I am having fun here, wandering up and down the narrow streets and I have ridden the "toy train", visited the zoo - which is all up and down the mountain but very animal and human friendly and I have now seen my first

tiger in India. I also visited the Himalayan Mountaineering Center and the Botanical Gardens. All in all I am having a relaxed and enjoyable time here and will be sorry to leave, but leave I will.



Jono, don't bother putting this on my blog, it is just for you guys.



(I know, but I still wanted to leave it in. -JB)



I still miss you guys and am sorry that I won't be with you all but when duty calls I cannot ignore. Enjoy your time together.

powered by performancing firefox

Darjeeling

So thats where I am now after 4 days of travel through unLonley Planet India where I had to find lodging by myself along the way. I have just arrived, checked into a hotel which I may leave tomorrow, and came down to check my mail and to put your minds at rest if you were worried at all.



Now I am going to look for food and then have an early night (not unusual). I will write an extended mail in the next couple of days. I will probably stay here for about a week as it is very pretty and after all that riding to

get here I wont run away.



At the moment sitting next to me, are probably the only other Israelis in town who I happened to find when I arrived.