Tea Land

Not much got better - or should I say it all did? All the hotels I looked into were pricy and not in the part of town I wanted to be. The cricket match had brought with it many many people to Chandigarh and the city is expensive without the help of overcrowded hotels.
Then came a bit of a turning point. I was not going to let my arm be twisted into paying too much for a hotel. Besides, why did I want to be in Chandigarh anyways? The cricket match of course, and the doorway to Himachal Pradesh, but why did I want to be in Chandigarh? The fact of the matter is that up until this point I had been an American in India. There was almost no "I" in it.
I guess this is the problem and the glory of planning a trip as you go. I had gone to the Taj Mahal because of course, when in India, I must. I had come to Chandigarh to see cricket because...I am interested in cricket? Because cricket is something Indian's like, I thought it was something I should do. And the North West was a place that I had decided to go to because I had been told it was a good place. None of these places actually called my name.
The North East had.
It was always (or at least since I landed in Delhi) an idea of mine that I would make my way to Darjeeling. Then maybe Sikkim. Then maybe the North East states. I even had the idea that the trek through India, into Burma, and back to Rangoon was for me. The North East was actually the part of India I was most looking forward to.
I decided to disregard the things I ought to do. I cancelled my trip to Himachal Pradesh. I got on a bus to Delhi at 4pm, 9 hours after arriving in Chandigarh.
In Delhi I had a stroke of good luck. There was a train headed to New Jalpaiguri in about 2 hours, at 11:30. I went to buy my ticket. I was planning on air conditioning. There were no tickets left. No problem.
I walked into the railway station cafe to figure things out, and I knew I had enough time to do so. I asked the man who sold me a Coca Cola if he thought it a good idea for me to just hop on the train and see what happens. He didn't speak much English but another cafe goer did. He asked me what train I was on. I told him. He happened to be on the same train. He and a dozen and a half of his classmates were going home to Mizoram, an Indian state bordering Burma. They had been taking some classes near Delhi (I am not actually sure if it were near Delhi, but it must have been close enough as he was in the same station). Ravi told me that his group had booked too many seats, and theoretically I could an extra. He said to go and buy a general ticket just in case. That would be an experience in itself so I did that and then found Ravi on platform 9 (as he had told me). I smiled at his classmates but it was clear his English was better than theirs. We called over the ti-ti (conductor) and explained the situation. I am not sure if I bribed him or paid for the upgraded ticket, but presently I handed him 440 rupes and he scribbled some stuff on a paper and all looked clear, and was. We boarded the train and were off. I couldn't believe my luck. The train went along (What do trains do anyways? Drive? Ride? Jolt?) through the night, into the day, and back into night again. I finished reading Somerset Maugham's The Razor's Edge at about 2am this morning. I wanted to finish it and give it to Ravi, as I had nothing else to offer in gratitude. New Jalpaiguri, which is the closes train station to Darjeeling (excluding the Toy Train) rolled into sight just before daybreak at 5am. It was an hour late and I had only gotten an hour or two of sleep but I was in high spirits for having found such good luck. I bade Ravi and his teacher (who were the only one's up out of the group) farewell and handed over The Razor's Edge. I don't think he'll read it, but at least I was able to make the gesture.
In the railway station I had chai because a cycle rickshaw driver kept bugging me while I was looking through my Lonely Planet. I wanted him to think I was staying a while and give up and look for a new client. He ended up waiting it out and driving me to the jeep that would take me to Darjeeling.
It was not a comfortable ride. I could feel the frame of the chair and the potholes on the way up made the jeep sway so that I kept hitting my head on the side. I managed to close my eyes and actually envisioned the rapids I had rafted through in seventh grade. That was not comforting because the raft nearly flipped once and if that happened to the car there was not a lot of railing or even trees to break the fall from the winding mountain path to Darjeeling.
But the sights were awesome.
Lush and green mountains gave off that aroma only they can. I could the insects buzzing about the trees and could see the holes they left in the leaves. Palm trees and pine trees. Falling water and the air was cool. There were morning glories blooming the same purple that hangs over the fence at home.
The population of Darjeeling is almost exact that of Ventura. I had a nice sense about it.
The jeep stopped and I didn't quite know where I was. One or two men asked if I needed a hotel but only asked once - that was nice. Darjeeling's streets are comparably better marked than other places in India. There aren't any street signs that I can read but many of the shops have their address under their name so I found my way about. I walked to a hotel I read was a good one but it was full. There was the Sunrise Hotel nearby so I checked it out.
My room would have two windows through which I could look down at the rooftops of houses below (Sunrise Hotel is at the top of a ridge so it's view is unhampered). I could look up and see he sky. I could look straight out and see the green voluptuous mountains. I told the hotel manager it would do. 200 Rupes a night. That's US$4.40.
I think I may stay here a bit.