Hello whoever reads this!
These two kiwi guys who I met at some point, I can't really remember, have been frequently updating their blogs. You see, these two are party animal drunks, so I'm feeling a bit lazy with the fact I haven't updated this thing for months, as I've been sitting on my backside enjoying the easy life - well except for that two weeks climbing to Mt Everest base camp. So I'm doing it now and will try to recall what happened pre-Everest. So wait, where was I...checking last post...Varanasi? Urgh, not my favourite place, that festering stink-hole, I think the old man and I hopped a train to Siliguri from there, yes, that's right! The train to Siliguri! I can't remember anything about it.
I do know that we got to Siliguri, a complete nowhere town as it was the town at a respectable altitude underneath Darjeeling. It was a lot cooler here though, that was lovely! Train..Siiguri..Darjeeling, yes, I recall being somewhat disheartened that the 'Darjeeling Express' didn't exist, as there isn't even a real train that goes to Darjeeling (there's a 'toy-train'), however the Malaga Express, even with it's less catchy name was a charming ride. Yep, memory is somewhat returning. We arrived at Siliguri and chartered a jeep with 50 other people up the 2.5 hour 'road' to Darjeeling. Me and pops we crammed in the back with our packs and to other Indians (smaller than our packs). It was a hard ride, and by the end of it my old man was at the end of his tether, he insisted on checking into this real standard hotel and we paid through the nose for the flea-bitten sheets. Slept well though and I was in good spirits.
The next day he was still a bit tired, and we were lost, and why do we have to go up that big-ass hill, so it was a relief to finally find the place I was looking for since my guide book told me to. I understood his mood though and we calmed down and cheered up. The place was lovely - had views of the fog and clouds 20m away. This cleared up eventually, and we were rewarded with a view to rival the best. In Darjeeling, there was lots of British leftover stuff, such as buildings and land rovers. There was an earthquake on the way up in the jeep if I recall correctly - some scared local hugged my dad in fear. To be honest I had a blast during the quake, and due to the hardy buildings of blighty, no-one died in Darjeeling.*
I waltzed around the hilltop town for a few days, and a few events jump out at me, I met some Irish and had a drink with them at a pub, I bought some outdoor gear, and now I remember, I had lunch with those kiwis here and talked politics religion science and all that trite I love/hate so much. They seemed somewhat intelligent.**
We decided to leave Darjeeling and go to Nepal! Another tortuous jeep odyssey down the mountain later, we were at the border. The first man we met in Nepal, baldy border officer, bribed about $20 out of us to let us in. We couldn't really argue, this butthole was the authority, but we wanted desperately to get out of Kharkavitta a real border helltown, something akin the the US-Mexican border towns. We soon met many other Nepalese that were on the nice end of the scale so our will wasn't too shaken. The only option out out of town was an uncomfortable local bus for the 17-hour journey. We had company in and old Scottish perv and his young Malaysian rent-boy, but looking past the obvious moral character flaws he was quite the pleasant chap. I somehow slept well, I must have been quite exhausted without knowing it.
Apart from a truly disgusting pee-wall toilet, Nepal was clearly cleaner than India. The people were less hassle too. Sure they would sell the shirt from their back for 10 rupees, but unlike Indians, the only pestered you for one hour. Years later we got to the outskirts of Kathmandu where for some reason, the bus decided to let everyone off. Due to the smog we had to use our sonar to find a cab to take us to Thamel because my guide said so. Thamel was a tourist haven, sort of like Khao San road but not awful. We did the usual hotel thing for a few days, then suddenly one morning, from the window of a coffee shop, I saw Laszlo, a dope Hungarian DJ that I met in Varanasi. We hung. I liked Kathmandu.
*Ironically, that same earthquake caused the wall of the British embassy in Kathmandu to fall and crush five people to death, the only casualties in Nepal, rendering my 'strong british buildings' quote sadly void.
**They were pretty intelligent, I was mostly bluff.
These two kiwi guys who I met at some point, I can't really remember, have been frequently updating their blogs. You see, these two are party animal drunks, so I'm feeling a bit lazy with the fact I haven't updated this thing for months, as I've been sitting on my backside enjoying the easy life - well except for that two weeks climbing to Mt Everest base camp. So I'm doing it now and will try to recall what happened pre-Everest. So wait, where was I...checking last post...Varanasi? Urgh, not my favourite place, that festering stink-hole, I think the old man and I hopped a train to Siliguri from there, yes, that's right! The train to Siliguri! I can't remember anything about it.
I do know that we got to Siliguri, a complete nowhere town as it was the town at a respectable altitude underneath Darjeeling. It was a lot cooler here though, that was lovely! Train..Siiguri..Darjeeling, yes, I recall being somewhat disheartened that the 'Darjeeling Express' didn't exist, as there isn't even a real train that goes to Darjeeling (there's a 'toy-train'), however the Malaga Express, even with it's less catchy name was a charming ride. Yep, memory is somewhat returning. We arrived at Siliguri and chartered a jeep with 50 other people up the 2.5 hour 'road' to Darjeeling. Me and pops we crammed in the back with our packs and to other Indians (smaller than our packs). It was a hard ride, and by the end of it my old man was at the end of his tether, he insisted on checking into this real standard hotel and we paid through the nose for the flea-bitten sheets. Slept well though and I was in good spirits.
The next day he was still a bit tired, and we were lost, and why do we have to go up that big-ass hill, so it was a relief to finally find the place I was looking for since my guide book told me to. I understood his mood though and we calmed down and cheered up. The place was lovely - had views of the fog and clouds 20m away. This cleared up eventually, and we were rewarded with a view to rival the best. In Darjeeling, there was lots of British leftover stuff, such as buildings and land rovers. There was an earthquake on the way up in the jeep if I recall correctly - some scared local hugged my dad in fear. To be honest I had a blast during the quake, and due to the hardy buildings of blighty, no-one died in Darjeeling.*
I waltzed around the hilltop town for a few days, and a few events jump out at me, I met some Irish and had a drink with them at a pub, I bought some outdoor gear, and now I remember, I had lunch with those kiwis here and talked politics religion science and all that trite I love/hate so much. They seemed somewhat intelligent.**
We decided to leave Darjeeling and go to Nepal! Another tortuous jeep odyssey down the mountain later, we were at the border. The first man we met in Nepal, baldy border officer, bribed about $20 out of us to let us in. We couldn't really argue, this butthole was the authority, but we wanted desperately to get out of Kharkavitta a real border helltown, something akin the the US-Mexican border towns. We soon met many other Nepalese that were on the nice end of the scale so our will wasn't too shaken. The only option out out of town was an uncomfortable local bus for the 17-hour journey. We had company in and old Scottish perv and his young Malaysian rent-boy, but looking past the obvious moral character flaws he was quite the pleasant chap. I somehow slept well, I must have been quite exhausted without knowing it.
Apart from a truly disgusting pee-wall toilet, Nepal was clearly cleaner than India. The people were less hassle too. Sure they would sell the shirt from their back for 10 rupees, but unlike Indians, the only pestered you for one hour. Years later we got to the outskirts of Kathmandu where for some reason, the bus decided to let everyone off. Due to the smog we had to use our sonar to find a cab to take us to Thamel because my guide said so. Thamel was a tourist haven, sort of like Khao San road but not awful. We did the usual hotel thing for a few days, then suddenly one morning, from the window of a coffee shop, I saw Laszlo, a dope Hungarian DJ that I met in Varanasi. We hung. I liked Kathmandu.
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| Laszlo |
*Ironically, that same earthquake caused the wall of the British embassy in Kathmandu to fall and crush five people to death, the only casualties in Nepal, rendering my 'strong british buildings' quote sadly void.
**They were pretty intelligent, I was mostly bluff.
