A Disfunctional Diary of India - Singalila National Park: Day 13

We moved out of the Sunrise Guest House early this morning and left our packs in trust with the owner of the trekking company we booked with, then returned to the Tower View for tea before we caught our ride to the National Park entry point. Our guide's name was Ajoy, a young Nepalize dude with an ominous laugh. By 11:00AM we were on the trail, going mainly up today. It was a good hike. We made a few stops in different regions, each one proudly offering it's own locally grown tea. We reached a high point of 3,070 meters in which we were walking through small clouds. The trail hugged the border of India and Nepal and it was liberating to roam freely through the mountains without the hassle of boundries and checkpoints.

After 11km we arrived in the village of Tumling (Population 25), where we set up in a family tea house with lots of beds. The first villagers we met were two young Nepali girls, Sustica and Bobbita. They were meticulously preparing a table of 108 candles for a ceremony of prayers to honor the life of Sai Baba, the revered spiritual leader/guru with the identifiable afro. Once again we were very lucky to be a part of something special, as we were asked to join in the ceremony, light some candles and say some prayers. Eventually, over half the village was huddled into the small room. There were at least 4 religions present, all singing and praying for the same holy man. When the ceremony ended we went downstairs for a  hot meal of soup and curried veg with custard and tamarind sauce for dessert. I felt spoiled. 

We ended the evening by playing cards with the girls. They taught us a new game called "jack thief" and the rest of the family gathered round to watch and laugh at our intensity. It's places like this that make me never want to return to a big city.

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A Disfunctional Diary of India - Darjeeling: Day 12

Slept in today. When I woke up everyone was gone. I loafed around town, eating snacks, drinking tea and meeting people. Found Jon for lunch and then joined him on his continuing mission to get money from the bank and mail his burden of a box home once n' for all. The damn thing was giving him grey hairs. After that, we signed ourselves up for a 5 day trek through Singalila National Park, on the outskirts of Darjeeling. It was another easy day, but we worked for it, I assure you.
Had ourselves an entertaining night at the Tower View, celebrating the birthday of a nice girl from Colorado we met earlier in the day. There was a solid turnout of people from all over the globe. Add two guitars into the mix and we had ourselves a show on the balcony. Tomorrow, we hit the dusty trail.

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A Disfunctional Diary of India - Darjeeling: Day 11

Last night we arrived at NJP station at 1:30AM, and slept outside under a big tree in the parking lot until 6 in the morning when we took a 2 hour jeep ride high into the mountains and came out through the fog into the chilled out land of Darjeeling. It was the sweetest relief to be there, away from the heat and the madness, and the shitty food. Darjeeling was quite the opposite. It was cold, but everyone was cozy. Every place to eat was delicious, even the street vendors had the goods. It was a happy melting pot of Hindus, Nepalize, and other beautiful Mongoloids, all talkative and respectful. With the surrounding view of the mountains it was impossible for anybody to be sour. I felt like Harry and Loyd when they first hit Aspen. We walked around and got our bearings while looking for a guest house that would take the three of us for 100 rupees a piece. The best and cheapest place in town was the Tower View, which had a bohemian style cafe with a breathtaking balcony view. But they were totally booked so we settled on the Sunrise Guest House, just down the street. The owner was the Indian version of Norman Bates. He gave us a room with one big bed and no running water. We were satisfied.
While Jon was on a mission for a bank and a post office, I kicked back with Justin at the famous local bakery and sipped on the tea that put Darjeeling on the map. We all took it real easy for the rest of the day, then capped it off with gut warming spirits in the evening. After only one day here, I know this place will be at the top of my list in India.

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A Disfunctional Diary of India: Day 10

The train left Varinasi Junction at 5:45 AM. We were on it. The time is now 6:35pm. We're still on it, with another 4 more hours to go. I feel like a convict on the Orange Blossom Special. But incarceration in motion does have it's moments. A man can do a lot of reading in that time. And in between chapters, some serious life planning can be achieved as well. I've never been a "5 year plan" person like my guidance councilor wanted me to be. But on this particular train ride I was able to perceive an agreeable life for myself past 2012, which suits me fine for now. So eat it,  Ms. Trujillo.

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A Disfunctional Diary of India - Varinasi: Day 9

Our train schedule was wrong! We're stuck in Varinasi for another 24 hours. The vultures are closing in.
What to do but take a shower, walk the streets and survive on cookies n' water. In the afternoon a trip to the theater to watch a low budget love story with blood and thievery. Finally mashed potatoes and a brief skype chat with the everlasting girl of my dreams. Goooood night.

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A Disfunctional Diary of India - Varinasi: Day 8

We've been here too long, and now it feels more like an escape than a departure. We've learned the hard way; always plan your exit strategy in advance in India ( and most other places in the world, and in life). Now we're stuck in Varinasi for another day and I'm standing at 60% health as my body fights off the strains of malnutrition (because I no longer trust the food here), exhaustion, a bhang lassi hangover, and the poorest air quality I've ever inhaled. The beggars and marketeers can see it in our eyes that we're on the edge, about to snap, and so they don't bug us anymore. Instead they send in the little kids with dirty faces and big eyes. They melt our hearts but they don't win the battle of sympathy. If they did we'd be broken down and living amongst them.
Our train is set to depart  early tomorrow morning at the crack of dawn so we've spent our last day seeking out the small things left undone. We hired a small boat to take us out on the Ganges river for photos of the rising sun. We ate and slept. We drank water n' electrolytes. We slept more. We walked down by the Ganges at night to see the ceremony of burning bodies before having the first (and last) nutritious meal of fruit and lemon ginger tea. Then it was Jon's turn to get sick so we stayed at the guest house until it was time to catch the train.

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A Disfuntional Diary of India - Varinasi: Day 7

Another early morning. I went back up to the rooftop to handwash my clothes in the pre-mature sunlight. Then I read until Jon came up. By that time there were two monkeys up there, relaxing fairly close to me. They didn't appreciate  Jon taking pictures of them and chased us off the roof. We went out into the already busy streets in search of food, water, and a bank. About a kilometer into the walk we were joined by Justin. The three of us spent the morning exploring, taking photos and video of the chemisty of common life in a crazy city. By mid day my stomach started playing the drums again so I escaped the hustle of the crowded streets and found my peace back on the rooftop. In a rude city such as this, solitude is the most beautiful thing. I can't remember a time in my life when it felt so good to be alone. Surrounded by old, unkept architecture and nothing else but the sun and the occasional monkey dropping in to see what's up. It's always been the simple things and I don't think that will ever change for me.

3:30 found me looking for the Zee restaurant with Jon. He'd heard that the proprieter made amazing veg burgers for a good price and he was not mistaken. Once again we found Justin on our way. He too had discovered a great place to sit and socialize that searved powerful bang lassis. On our way back from the restaurant I stopped in to give it try.
Now it's 11:30pm and I feel like I've been awake for days. I can't fully explain what makes the hours run slower here but some decent things happened in those hours that seemed most significant in the grips of a bang lassi haze. In Jon's struggle to get money from his bank, we were guided to the Vishnu Silk House, the only business in town with a debit and credit card machine. We were walked into an ally of Indian gentlemen in white robes, sitting in front of a gate. Jon explained his case and of course, a purchase would have to be made before he could withdraw up to 5,000 rupees for cashback. We went into the "Saree" room to sit and talk real shit. That's when the bang lassi began to kick the walls down on my reality and I was ready to listen to the warm talking Mr. Puja. He turned out to be one of the most genuine salemen I've ever met. He would have schooled the shit out of all those guys from GlennGary GlennRoss and he could do it with ease because he was in love with his own family product and it was ligit. He invited us to his guest house to checkout the bar on the roof. It turned out to be the highest roof in the city and it overlooked the Ganges River and the night ceremony taking place there on the banks at the ghats.
After the purchase of some quality silk and a stop for Jon's own bang lassi we were there, high on the rooftop of the Puja G.H., drinking bottomless cups of chai and breathing in the dense night air of celebrated death.

Read Day 8