and next . . . . .

I've now booked my next two trips, again with Explore to :

• Iceland : 10 days in July
• Ethiopia : 14 days in September.

I've booked the 'land only' option for Ethiopia to allow me a cheaper flight out of Birmingham.  This is with THY and allows me a couple of days in Istanbul on the way out.

Watch out on my main blog for words and snaps from these trips.

I booked both the trips and the Ethiopia flights via the Flight Centre - purely by luck I found that they offered a 5% discount off all Explore trips in addition to the discount Explore gives me as a 'frequent' client.

Kolkata - Colours & Bonfires

On arrival in Kolkata - formerly Calcutta - we immediately set off on our guided tour of the city and were surprised at the seeming lack of the usual frenetic traffic.  We were told that it was the eve of a major festival and a bank holiday and, thus, people weren't at work - more about the festival later.

Jain Temple

A hot day combined with travelling for three weeks and an early start meant that we were probably not the most attentive group as we were introduced to some of the City's highlights : a Pareshnath Jain temple, the clay idol workshops, the colonial/Raj buildings and the CoE cathedral.

It was exiting the temple and walking the streets where idols were constructed on a base of wire netting & straw, that we were introduced to the festival of Holi.  This is an ancient festival which goes back to at least the 7th century - it was originally a spring festival of fertility and harvest. However, it also marks some Hindu legends, which provide some of the ingredients for the celebrations.

Street Colours

It is a Hindu festival that welcomes the Spring and celebrates the new life and energy of the season - although it may have religious roots, not much religious activity is involved in its celebration : although we did see, mainly elder ladies making sacrifices at the bonfires.  It is certainly an energetic affair celebratted  with fun and good humour; even the strict rules of separation between castes are said to be abandoned.

Holi is also called 'The Festival of Colours', and people celebrate the festival by smearing each other with paint, and throwing coloured powder and dye around in an atmosphere of great good humour.  Holi is seen by some as the Hindu festival that is nearest in spirit to St. Valentine's Day.

After reaching the cool confines, a couple of us - perversley - headed back into the streets to explore the area.  Like the rest of the City it was very quiet - even the large indoor market was almost silent.  However, there were still people about intent on spreading their colours everywhere.  Many of the roadside stalls were selling various coulourful concoctions and many of the road intersections already had wood piled in the middle in preparation for the evening's celebrations.

Once it became dark, a couple of us again hit the streets and followed the noise of drums.  We came across half-a-dozen drummers parading through the streets and, dutifullly followed them to the large orange glow in the distance.  Here , with no regard for the road surface and passing traffic, a large bonfire blazed and flared.  Mainly elderly ladies made offerings to the fire as a big crowd of locals stood around getting singed by the blaze.  As we walked the streets there were more and more bonfires - every couple of hundred yards - each with attendant drummers as offerings were made before they headed off to the next.

It was a loud, warm and colourful ending to a great three weeks in three contrasting countries.

However, it had a sting in the tale !  Almost back at the hotel and at the last bonfire, I let my guard down and was 'coloured by a local who smeared one of the oil-based green colours on my forehead.  Attempting to rub it off had no effect - except to spread it : so it ended up all across and down into my beard.  How would the airline and the people of the UK react to a green faced monster ?  After liberal application of nail polish remover, tooth paste and soap and after about 40 minutes, I managed to ruin a couple of hotel towels but most of the colour was gone.  I was just left with a slight green shade and skin almost rubbed raw.




 

Flying out of Bhutan

Flying out of Bhutan from Paro was an interesting twisty journey through the mountains.

The airport is located in a deep valley on the bank of Paro river with surrounding peaks as high as 18,000 feet (5,500 m). Allegedly, it is considered to be "one of the world's most challenging airports" and only eight pilots in the world are certified to land there.

It is also alleged that it took 7 months for Airbus Industries re-programming of the Airbus 319 cockpit computers in order to allow them to cope with the special challenges posed by this unique airport & its surrounding terrain.

To protect the 'innocent', no mention will be made of the seasoned traveller who sat  next me who quivered during the rapid & twisty departure with their head in their hands - jumping at every noise.

As a bonus - we at last saw Mount Everest in the distance as we headed South for Kolkata.

To the Dancing and Hills

Two Rivers Join

On the way to Paro we went to Punakha Dzong built in 1637 on a sand bank at the confluence of the Mochu (Mother) and Phochu (Father) Rivers. This sacred dzong was the seat of Bhutanese government until 1960 and is a fine example of Bhutanese monastic architecture with squat rectangular buildings made up of tiered levels crowned by a tower and small golden spire above. 

We crossed the river on a wooden covered bridge and climbed up to the impossing Dzong - the final part was up steep stairs to the massive front doors. Wandering around we climbed stairs to the shady interior of the Buddist temple and found a balcony overlooking one of the prayer halls . Down below there were two rows of monks, sitting crossed-legged facing each other, chanting verses to the ocassional drumming and fanfares. They were overseen by an 'enforcer' who patrolled the rows listening to the monk's efforts - where they didn't reach his standard, they were flicked with his prayer beads.

Just outside Paro (about a 15 minute walk), high above the town stands Ta Dzong, one of Bhutan’s most imposing fortresses. The Dzong commands inspiring views across the plain and is a treasure house of sacred scrolls, religious icons and manuscripts of all sizes with fabulous thankas and vivid colourful murals hanging on the walls. 

This was the venue for the highlight of our journey - the Paro Tsechu.  A Tsechu is a Buddhist religious festivals where masked dances depicting events from the life of Padmasambhava, the eighth century Nyingmapa Buddhist teacher (second to Buddha), and stories of other saints are staged. In Bhutan, Padmasambhava is known as 'Guru Rimpoche'. The  dances  are performed  by  trained monks  and laymen wearing costumes some that depict the creatures that you may  expect to meet after death. 

Laura, our tour leader, had been able to readjust the planned itinerary to allow us longer at the festival than the half-day originally proposed.  Why hadn't Explore thought of this in advance ?  

THE TSECHU

A ‘Tsechu’ is a religious festival held annually by most Dzongs and monasteries. The festival is homage to the great deeds of the Buddhist Saint Padmasambhava, popularly known as ‘Guru Rinpoche’ who was responsible for introducing Buddhism to Bhutan. The dances (most of which are performed enthusiastically by monks) are said to bring blessings to the onlookers, as well as instructing them about the Buddhist Dharma.

The ceremony is held over five days - the first is held inside the Dzong and in the past the rest of the day's performances were also held there.  However, nowdays with so many people attending (locals and visitors) they are held on a paved area nearby with stone seats on a bank one side, a massive building on another and on the third what looked like covered seating & balconies for VIPs and the 'band'.  The fourth side was open for everybody to stand and watch.

They are not 'common' entertainment events and are not held as tourist attractions.  They are still genuine manifestations of religious traditions hundreds if not thousands of years old. Today, we, as outsiders, are given the privilege of witnessing these sacred rites. 

The grounds where they are held are consecrated by Lamas and the dancers, whether monks or laymen, are in a state of meditation. They transform themselves into the deities whom they embody on the dance ground. They generate a spiritual power which cleanses, purifi es, enlightens and blesses the spectators.

We were able to make three visits to the Tsechu : soon after we arrived, following our walk towards Tiger's Nest and very early on the morning of our departure.

Although it had a religious basis, the locals seemed to treat it more of a picnic with entertainment.  They sat on the tiered stone seating and on the grass on the slope above eating, talking and laughing at the antics of the clowns.  Although the clowns had a role in some of the dances, they also seemed to fulfill two other roles : entertaining the crowds between dances and crowd control - stopping people encroaching on the dance area. 

All the proceedings were being recorded by local TV - a newish innovation in Bhutan - and were, I think, being  broadcast live to those who couldn't be there in person.  TV first came to Bhutan in 1999 and it was the last country to secumb to its thrall.  Four years later there was a report in the UK Guardian newspaper that stated that the population was " . . . . beginning to accuse television of smothering their unique culture, of promoting a world that is incompatible with their own, and of threatening to destroy an idyll where time has stood still for half a millennium".

In addition to a number of folk dances and choirs which filled in the gaps between the main events, I was lucky enough to see the following principal dances :

Noblemen and the Ladies (Phole Mole)

This is a very long dance and in the later part I saw it seemed to have the feel of a pantomime.  The actors play two princes, two princesses, an old couple and the clowns. The two princes are going to war and are leaving the two princesses in the care of the old couple.

As soon as they depart, the clowns try to 'frolic' with the princesses and corrupt the old woman who is also behaving quite badly.  The clowns and the old woman roll around in a manner that left very little to the imagination.  There was also quite a lot of dialogue, especially from the clowns which, judging by the reaction from the crowds was quite funny / risque.

Clowns and Doctor

When they return they return the princes are scandalized by the behaviour of the princesses and cut off their noses as a punishment - the old woman too : red handkerchiefs were held to the faces to represent the copious amounts of blood that had been spilt.

Then a doctor is called to put the nose back but the old woman stinks so much that the doctor has to use a stick because he does not want to approach her. Finally the prices marry the princesses and everybody is reconciled and the all live happily ever after ! 

The Judgement of the Dead (Raksha Mangcham)
This is again more of a play than a dance and lasts approximately two hours.  Shinje - the Lord of Death - appears, symbolized by a huge puppet which holds a mirror. The white god and the Black Demon enter the courtyard with him.  Shinje sits and all his helpers follow taking up their places in two rows in front of him. 

Then the judgment begins. The sinner, who is dressed in black (why are the baddies always in Black ?) and wearing a red hat, arrives. He is very frightened and tries to escape by running into the crowd but is recaptured by the helpers.  From his basket, a freshly severed cow’s head is taken, implying that the sinner was responsible for killing it. The judge then weighs his actions. Afterwards the White God sings of the merits of the man, followed by the Black Demon who expounds the sins of the man. Finally, a black strip of cloth symbolizing the rod to hell, is spread and then the sinner is sent to Hell.

Another man arrives - he is clad in white (must be the goodie) and holds a prayer flag and a ceremonial scarf, implying his virtues. The same scene as before is re-enacted and at the conclusion a white strip of cloth symbolizing the road to heaven is roll out. Fairies elaborately dressed in brocade and bone-ornament come to fetch him.  At the last moment, the Black Demon, furious at having lost a being, tries to grab the virtuous man but the White God protects him.

All the main players and their helpers then processed around escorting the massive 'puppet' back into the building that forms the backdrop to the festivities. 

TIGER'S NEST

One morning there was an opportunity to climb up for views of the amazing Taktsang or ‘Tiger’s Nest’ Monastery. The remains of the monastery cling precariously to a cliff face, and local legend recounts that Guru Rinpoche, who founded the Drukpa Sect and brought Buddhism to Bhutan, flew here on the back of a tiger to start the first monastery.

The temple complex, located high on a precipitous the cliff side and was first built in 1692, around the where Guru Padmasambhava is said to have meditated for three months in the 8th century after flying from Tibet on the back of a tigress - it was consecrated to tame the Tiger demon .  He is credited with introducing Buddhism to Bhutan  Today it is the best known of the thirteen taktsang or "tiger lair" caves in which he meditated.

We drove to the starting point of the walk and were one of the first to start up the steep dirt track.  It wound through the trees passing ladies sat on the side selling souviniers and nic-nacs.  It was tough going not helped by the altitude robbing us of oxygen.  After a while we were overtaken by other visitors who had hired skeletal ponies to take them upwards - their riders often looked terrified as they clung on to their saddles.  We were warned not to stand between a passing pony and the drop at the side of the path and I saw why when one pony took a deliberate side-step to bump into a walker - almost launching him over the edge !

After about 45 minutes, we came to a small cafe selling refreshing tea and offering a view of the Tiger's Nest across the chasam.  After a brief rest, most continued the slog up the mountain to actually visit the Nest.  I was amongst the minority that decided it wasn't worth the effort to visit yet another monastry and returned to town in favour of a once in a life time opportunity to visit the festivities.

THANGKA

The Thangka

There was a really early start on our last day in Bhutan - not just to get to the airport on time but also to see the unfolding of the silk Thangka.  This is so large that it covers the face of the building and is considered one of the most sacred blessings in the whole of Bhutan.   The 'Thangka' is a religious picture scroll known as a Thongdroel and it is exhibited for a few hours, at day break of the final day of the festival, enabling the people to obtain its blessing. This holy scroll 'confers liberation by the mere sight of it' (the meaning of the word 'thongdroel' in Bhutanese). 

It was a bleary eyed bunch that dragged their bags down to the bus for the drive down to town where we joined throngs of locals climbing in the dark up with the Dzong lit by a bright Moon.

Incense and Candles

The Paro Guru Thongdrol is the oldest in the country and in the Region as its over 300 years old and very sacred too cause it has been blessed by many enlightened masters.  It weighs more than 1000 Kg and is usually  kept in a large iron box in one corner of the Dzong.  On the last day of the Tshechu, the monks wake up at midnight and start preparing for the procession and perform prayers to take out the Thongdrol at 3 am.  After the prayers, the Thongdrol is carried on the shoulders of the monks, the administrative staff of the Paro District, and people from the local community towards the Deyankha Temple, which is the courtyard where it is unfurled.

Amidst religious music, songs, and dances, it unfurled at the Deyankha Temple. and, being 85 feet wide and 55 feet tall, it requires the entire 5 story Deyankha temple to fully unfurl. Even though we had risen very early, it was already on display when we arrived and there was a steady queue of locals, passing the dark yhrough the smoke from incense burners, passing the Thongdrol to gain a powerful blessing.

From here we took our departure from Paro and headed off to the airport and our flight back to India.  It was a nice little but efficient airport marred only my a minor altercation with a group of French tourists who, with usual Gallic disregard for queues, pushed to the front of the line for the X-ray machine.  Once airside we were able to watch more of the ceremonies back at the Dzong as it was still being broadcast live on local TV.

St Patrick's Day

In acknowledgement of my Celtic roots.

Bhutan - Gross National Happiness

Most countries measure Gross National Product - ie the market value of all goods and services produced within a country in a given period : it is often considered an indicator of a country's standard of living.

Rather than measure cold economics, Bhutan seeks to measure quality of life or social progress in more holistic and psychological terms. It measures GNH : Gross National Happiness.

Land of the Thunder Dragon

Departing for the Bhutanese border town of Phuentsholing we drove for almost 6 hours through the vast tea estates of the Gangetic plains of Bengal - approximately one quarter of India’s tea is grown in West Bengal state.

The Indian border town of Jaigaon is the conduit through which the majority of goods are traded into Bhutan, and as it hosts the most accessible Indian marketplace to Bhutan It is bustling and loud, similar to many other West Bengal centres of commerce, albeit with many conspicuous Bhutanese shoppers.

The Thunder Dragon

We went through the exit process at an office in the middle of town some way from the border but the actual crossing ws marked by a very impressive Tibetan-style gate manned by Bhutanese Army guards. With little formality, we passed through it into the Indian town of Jaigaon and crossed into Bhutan and the town of Phuentsholing. There was a stark contrast in the culture as we crossed the border - it clearly separates two very different peoples and cultures. Phuntsholing is distinctly far more quiet and orderly than its neighbour.

It's a very small place and soon explored. There was a crocodile farm which I didn't attempt to find and an archery ground (it's the country's national sport) which I searched for without any luck. I did walk down the side of the largely dry river, which smelt more like a sewer, and ended up in an area of town which was devoted to heavy haulage and army camps : not the most beautiful of areas. Threading my way back towards the centre, I came across a metal fence with pedestrian doors through small towers every so often in the bars. Life looked much more interesting on the other side, so without any real thought or problem, I went through one to continue exploring.

Then I realised i was back in India !    Swiftly retracing my steps, I was refused re-entry at my crossing point by what I now noticed were emigration staff snoozing on seats. Evidently, this was only a Bhutan to India crossing point and I would have to go to the next one to get back into Bhutan. At the next crossing point the staff were much more lively and it took ten minutes of talking to gain entry. The process wasn't helped by the fact that I couldn't produce my passport (the hotel reception had demanded it) but my credit card sized laminated colour copy seemed to help.

From here we proceeded to Thimpu along serpentine roads, passing paddy fields, apple orchards, pine forests and small hamlets, ‘protected’ by sculptures of the eight auspicious signs of the Tashi Tagye. This is the capitol and largest city with a population of over 80,000, some of Bhutan's only dual carriageway and its only flyover.

Thimpu

The city spreads in a north-south direction on the west bank of the valley formed by the Wang Chuu River at an altitude of between 7,300 ft and 8,700 ft. Unusually for a capital city, Thimphu is not served by an airport, but relies on the airport at Paro some 34 miles away. The town / city contains most of the important political buildings in Bhutan, including the National Assembly of the newly formed parliamentary democracy and Dechencholing Palace, the official residence of the King, located to the north of the city.

Tourism, though the major contributor to the economy, is strictly regulated as the country seeks to maintain a balance between the traditional and development & modernisation. TV only arrived in 1996 and all tourists have to pay a hefty daily levy to visit, no independent (backpacker) travel is allowed - everybody must have a local guide. Having said that, the country has recognised the importance of tourism and aims to increase it many fold in the near future.

The culture of Bhutan is fully reflected in Thimphu in respect of literature, religion, customs, and national dress code, the monastic practices of the monasteries, music, dance, literature and in the media.

We visited the Tashichhoedzong - a Buddhist monastery and fortress on the northern edge of the city. This impressive edifice has traditionally been the seat of the Druk Desi (or "Dharma Raja"), the head of Bhutan's civil government, an office which has been combined with the kingship since the creation of the monarchy in 1907, and summer capital of the country.

Tashichhoedzong

The main structure of the white-washed building is two-storied with three-storied towers at each of the four corners topped by triple-tiered golden roofs. There is also a large central tower or utse. It has been the seat of Bhutan's government since 1952 and presently houses the throne room and offices of the king, the secretariat and the ministries of home affairs and finance. Other government departments are housed in buildings nearby. As the un set we wandered around the courtyard of Bhutan's equivalent of a combination of the UK's Parliament and Westminster Abbey. The large courtyard was only open to us visitors once the civil servants had finished for the day leaving only a few red robed monks and swirling flocks of pigeons.

In 1953 the royal family took up residence in the nearby newly built Dechencholing Palace. The royal palace was definitely very modest - not large and imposing but of a domestic scale : perhaps a clear indication of the current King's approach to his role & responsibilities. Some of the party - who shall be nameless - seemed to think that it was a waste that such an elligible bachelor was still officially unattached.

National Chorten

We also made brief visit to the National Memorial Chorten - a large white structure with a golden spire crowning it and a smaller golden spire above the front porch. It is approached through a small garden and a gate decorated with three slate carvings. On the exterior of the gate are representations of the three protective Bodhisattvas – Avalokiteshvara (the symbol of compassion), Manjushri (the symbol of knowledge) and Vajrapani, the symbol of power. We were there early in the morning and there were icicles on the fountain and people combining devotion with daily exercise by jogging around the main chorten. Just in side there were three large red prayer wheels as usual being propelled in a clockwise direction by a succession of locals - each complete circle automatically ringing a bell. Here there were also a couple of elderly ladies who seemed to be camped there - complete complete with a little stove for making tea - whose aim seemed to be to ensure their wheel never ceased moving.

On the interior are slates engraved with the image of Shabdrung Ngawang Namgyal, the historical Buddha and Guru Rinpoche. The chorten, built in 1974 by the King’s mother to honour her son, the 3rd King of Bhutan, Jigme Dorji Wangchuck (1928–1972) - in 2008 it underwent extensive renovation. It is popularly known as "the most visible religious landmark in Bhutan". It is unlike other chortens in that it does not enshrine the mortal remains of the late King. Only the King’s photo in a ceremonial dress adorns a hall in the ground floor.

The Takin is a Goat/Antelope - found in the Eastern Himalayas - is the national animal of Bhutan. We made a brief visit to these unusual creatures – standing 39” to 51” at the shoulder and weighing up to 770 lb. - they have been likened to a "bee-stung moose", because of the swollen appearance of the face. They are covered in a thick golden wool which turns black on the under-belly. Both sexes have small horns which run parallel to the skull and then turn upwards in a short point, these are around 12 in long. Takin are found in bamboo forests at altitudes of 3,300 to 15,000 ft, where they eat grass, buds and leaves but today, although hunting (including fishing) is banned, most are now confined to the small fenced reserve on the edge of town.

Handicraft School

We were also taken to visit the School of the Thirteen Crafts (aka National Handicraft / Craft School) were young people are instructed by masters in various skills - we sat in on classes in drawing, sculpture and needlework. This is another reflection of the county's keen connection with its traditions - however, with the projected great increase in tourism, graduates will no doubt be kept busy making 'genuine' high quality souvenirs.

I spent some time wandering around the small town centre - it must have taken all of about twenty minutes from one end to the other - there was an excellent small cafe with succulent cake : it appeared to be a focus for ex-pats.

Just outside the centre was the archery field - I saw it on the drive into town, so this time I had no problem finding it. There was a little pavilion belonging to the National Archery Association and two 'lanes' - about the length of a football pitch - on which competitions were held. Whilst I was there only one of the 'lanes' was in use. There were about a dozen contestants who each seemed to put money into the 'pot' as an entry fee - the more money the more arrows they were allowed. The bows they were using weren't the expected traditional ones but hi-tech ones comprising of carbon fibre and a series of pulleys. The target was about the size of The Times newspaper - it looked very small from the other end - most got close putting up a little puff of sand or skittering into the rear mud wall but once in a while an arrow thuds home.

In the Mountains

Absolution

We visited the Drodul Chorten, built, in 1945, to commemorate the victory of good over evil. Surrounding the central stupa are 108 Mani Lhakor or prayer wheels. It is said that if you spin all the wheels, all your sins are absolved - of course many of our party had such a burden that they couldn't miss this opportunity.

A stupa (from Sanskrit, literally meaning "heap") is a mound-like structure containing Buddhist relics, typically the remains of Buddha, used by Buddhists as a place of worship. Inside this particular stupa is a complete set of Dorjee Phurba, Kangyur relics (Holy Books) and other religious objects. Much of this historic significance was lost on this philistine but the musical instruments made out of thigh bones were rather singular.

Institute of Tibetology

Just down the road we visited the Institute of Tibetology whose collection of rare books and manuscripts. Here there were, we were told, numerous priceless religious paintings (thangkas), statues and other religious artwork. We then take a morning drive to the other side of the Ranipul valley to the Gompa at Rumtek. The headquarters of the Kagyupa sect of Tibetan Buddhism and was built in the 1960’s as a replica of the Karmarpa’s monastery in Tibet. The religious murals are still being added to today.

We then continued to the little bazaar town of Kalimpong a hill station at about 4,000 ft. It is now known for its educational institutions, many of which were established during the British colonial period. However, it used to be a gateway in the trade between Tibet and India prior to China's annexation of Tibet and the Sino-Indian War.

It straggles along a ridge overlooking River Teesta and, owing to its temperate climate and proximity to popular locations, is a tourist destination in the region. Horticulture is also important and there is a flower market - which we did not visit - notable for its wide array of orchids; nurseries, which export Himalayan grown flower bulbs, tubers and rhizomes. On the surrounding hills there are many Buddhist monasteries including the Tharpa Choling Monastery, which belongs to the Yellow Hat sect of Tibetan Buddhism.

The hotel - the - Kalimpong Park Hotel - was out of town up a steep hill past a Gurkha memorial. It was another left-over from the days of the Raj - this was another Summer retreat of a plains based princeling : Maharaja of Dinajpur. Out front was a covered terrace ideal for tiffin and behind that, in the old part of the house small cool faded rooms for sitting and drink cold beers.

Silver Oaks Hotel

It was a lively little town spilling down the hill side - starting from a main street with walkways protected by hand rails steeply down to the local markets selling the usual wide array of merchandise : I invested in a little but little griddle for chapatis (to go with the little roller I'd bought in Bangladesh). On the walk back to the hotel there was a succession of us calling into the 'heritage' Silver Oaks Hotel for afternoon tea. This was served by smart white starched waiters in a luxurious reception area dotted with deep armchairs and sofas. On one of our two nights in this little town a few of us partook of dinner here : a slightly surreal experience. We were sat, in a large dinning room with a vaulted room, at a large table with white linen table cloth & napkins and 'silver' cutlery. It would have all been very grand but the expected atmosphere was completely altered by the fact that we were the only diners !

Hindu Temple

Christian Temple

Whilst here we were taken to visit a Hindu temple all painted with garish Yellow and Red - in  its main room there were many large alcoves each with almost life-sized dioramas from Hindu legend. We also visited a Christian church - it was built in the style of a Tibetan Buddhist temple. It was just large simple room with no chairs with an altar enclosure - it was the only Christian establishment I've visited where I've been required, in the Eastern tradition, to remove my shoes. Attached to the church was a residential establishment - run by the Little Sisters of Mercy (Mother Teresa's mob) for ladies with 'learning difficulties'. I was told it appeared to be a well run happy establishment. However, I didn't visit as I felt it would have the feel of a human zoo - it's certainly not an 'attraction' to which I would take visitors to Birmingham (even if there was such an opportunity).

To Sikkim

After a long journey up and down steeply cut river valleys, we crossed the border to spend two days in the former kingdom of Sikkim. This small country was annexed (aka invaded0 by India in 1975 to become its 22nd state. This thumb-shaped landlocked state nestles in the Himalayas with Nepal to the west, the Tibet Autonomous Region of the People's Republic of China to the north & east and Bhutan in the South East - to the South is the Indian state of West Bengal.

With just over 500,000 permanent residents, it is the least populous state in and the second-smallest state after Goa. Despite its small area (2,740 sq. miles), it is geographically diverse due to its location in the Himalayas. The climate ranges from sub-tropical to high alpine. Kanchenjunga, the world's third-highest peak, is located on the border with Nepal.

Legend has it that the Buddhist saint Guru Rinpoche visited Sikkim in the 9th century, introduced Buddhism and foretold the era of the monarchy. Indeed, the Namgyal dynasty was established in 1642. Over the next 150 years, the kingdom witnessed frequent raids and territorial losses to Nepalese invaders. It allied itself with the British rulers of India but was soon annexed by them. Later, Sikkim became a British protectorate and merged with India following a referendum in 1975.

We visited the great Pemayangste Monastery, the chief in Sikkim, is the second oldest and one of the 60 still active and has an exceptional collection of religious artworks. Established in the 8th century by the famous Indian teacher Padmasambhava, its members are devotees of a mystical type of Tantric Buddhism, characterised by the red caps they wear. Their religion is derived from Tibetan Lamaism, a curious mixture of Mahayana Buddhism, mythology and magic. It has been a focal point for the sectarian tensions that characterise the Karmapa Controversy.

The Karmapa is the head of the largest sub-school of the Kagyupa (Tibetan Bka' brgyud), itself one of the four major schools of Tibetan Buddhism. Since the death of the sixteenth Karmapa in 1981, two candidates have been put forward. Both have already been enthroned as 17th Karmapa, and both independently have been performing ceremonial duties in the role of a Karmapa. They have not met, though both have expressed a willingness and desire to meet. The situation has led to deep division among Kagyu followers all over the world and despite the involvement of the Dali Lama and a court case, the problem still remains.

The monastery was originally built in 16th century but when the 16th Karmapa arrived in Sikkim in 1959, after fleeing Tibet, the monastery was in ruins. Despite being offered other sites, the Karmapa decided to rebuild Rumtek. To him, the site possessed many auspicious qualities and was surrounded by the most favourable attributes. For example, flowing streams, mountains behind, a snow range in front, and a river below. With the generosity and help of the Sikkim royal family and the Indian government, it has been built by the 16th Karmapa as his main seat in exile.

After four years, construction of the monastery was completed and is currently the largest in Sikkim - a home for a community of monks and where they perform the rituals and practices of the Karma Kagyu lineage.

As we left, the sun set over the mountains and the who place was bathed in a pink glow throwing long soft shadows.

We also visited techeopelri or the Wishing Lake, considered to be the holiest lake in Sikkim. The lake is a sacred for both Buddhists and Hindus and is believed to be a wish fulfilling lake - its local name for the lake is Sho Dzo Sho, which means "Oh Lady, Sit Here". The lake is an integral part of the much-revered valley of "Demazong" meaning valley of rice.

The Lake is also part of Buddhist religious pilgrimage circuit involving the Yuksom, the Dubdi Monastery in Yuksom, Pemayangtse Monastery, the Rabdentse ruins, the Sanga Choeling Monastery, and the Tashiding Monastery. An interesting feature of the lake is that leaves are not allowed to float on the lake, which is ensured by the birds that industriously pick them up as soon as they drop into the lake surface.

After a short inspection of the lake shore, some of us embarked upon a walk up a steep hill side to a local village - it took us about 30 minutes but locals seemed not to notice the gradient at all. At the top was an isolated group of houses that appear to be only accessible on foot. We had tea in a house that offered home stays - its walls were plastered with postcards from past visitors : mainly it seems from France and Israel. We also met the Dali Lama's former cook - a charming wrinkly old man who was proud to show us his photos of his past life and have, in turn, his picture taken by us. We were also offered popcorn by a local lady and were invited to inspect her kitchen whilst she cooked it : very basic but very well tidy and organised.

We paid a short visit to the ruins of Rabdentse - originally the second capital of the former kingdom of Sikkim - from 1670 to 1814. It city was destroyed by an invading Nepalese army who arrived over an 'inacessible' pass through the mountains. Although the ruins of the palace and the chortens give only the barest indication of what was once there, they remain part of Buddhist religious pilgrimage circuit.

Travelling, via semi tropical forests, cardamom plantations and small villages to the present day capital of Sikkim - we arrived in Gangtok. This is spectacularly set on a long ridge flanking the RanipoolLepchas and Bhutia. The precise meaning of the name Gangtok is unclear, though the most popular meaning is "hill top".

Gangtok rose to prominence as a popular Buddhist pilgrimage site after the construction of the Enchey Monastery in 1840. In 1894, the ruling Sikkimese Chogyal, Thutob Namgyal, transferred the capital to Gangtok. In the early 20th century, Gangtok became a major stopover on the trade route between Lhasa in Tibet and cities such as Kolkata (then Calcutta) in British India. After India won its independence from Britain in 1947, Sikkim chose to remain an independent monarchy, with Gangtok as its capital. In 1975, after the integration with the union of India, Gangtok was made India's twenty-second state capital.

I walked down, through the town, to the indoor market to have a wander around and take some pictures. Here I was highjacked by a little old lady in a pink & white turban who insisted that I took her picture and then of the surrounding stall holders. The market had the usual selection of fruit & veg on the ground floor with clothing, cloth etc on the other two floors. Tucked away were a couple of glass partitioned rooms full of (mainly) men sitting at old Singer type sewing machines. Walking back up the hill to the hotel I took a short stroll along a wide traffic free boulevard - an oddity in rural India.

After the evening meal in the hotel, some of us went off to a local bar : Cafe Live & Loud which had advertised live music - "urban funk". It turn out to be somewhat of a time-warp establishment with pictures of the Beatles, AC-DC and Jimi Hendricks on the wall. The band was a four piece (keyboards, drums & guitars) with a girl lead singer : their songs were not really 'funky' - especially their rendition of Louis Armstrong's "It's a wonderful world" !

Darjeeling Himalayan Railway

Indubitably one of the highlights of the trip – certainly for me.  The Darjeeling Himalayan Railway has long been viewed with affection and enthusiasm by travellers to the region, and the Earl of Ronaldshay gave the following description of a journey in the early 1920s:

"Siliguri is palpably a place of meeting ... The discovery that here the metre gauge system ends and the two foot gauge of the Darjeeling-Himalayan railway begins, confirms what all these things hint at ... One steps into a railway carriage which might easily be mistaken for a toy, and the whimsical idea seizes hold of one that one has accidentally stumbled into Lilliput. With a noisy fuss out of all proportion to its size the engine gives a jerk — and starts ... No special mechanical device such as a rack is employed — unless, indeed, one can so describe the squat and stolid hill-man who sits perched over the forward buffers of the engine and scatters sand on the rails when the wheels of the engine lose their grip of the metals and race, with the noise of a giant spring running down when the control has been removed. Sometimes we cross our own track after completing the circuit of a cone, at others we zigzag backwards and forwards; but always we climb at a steady gradient — so steady that if one embarks in a trolley at Ghum, the highest point on the line, the initial push supplies all the energy necessary to carry one to the bottom."

  

The trip up to Darjeeling on railway has changed little since that time, and continues to delight travellers and rail enthusiasts, so much so that it has its own preservation and support group, the Darjeeling Himalayan Railway Society.

All the steam locomotives currently in use on the railway were built between 1889 and 1925. A total of 34 were built but by 2005 only 12 remained on the railway and in use (or under repair).  However, many trains are no powered by ‘soulless’ diesel locomotives.

Darjeeling

We had two full days in town with a good mix of planned excursions and free time.

During the British Raj, Darjeeling's temperate climate led to its development as a hill station for British residents seeking to escape the summer heat of the plains, and its becoming the informal summer capital of the Bengal Presidency in 1840, a practice that was formalised after 1864.

The development of Darjeeling as a sanatorium and health resort proceeded briskly. Arthur Campbell, a surgeon with the Company, and Lieutenant Robert Napier were responsible for establishing a hill station there. Campbell's efforts to develop the station, attract immigrants to cultivate the slopes and stimulate trade resulted in a hundredfold increase in the population of Darjeeling between 1835 and 1849.

  

Tiger Hill is the highest viewpoint (2,590m), some 8 miles from Darjeeling, to which we made a dawn excursion here to contemplate the sunrise and the ravishing beauty of the world's third highest mountain Kanchenjunga (8,586m) and other eastern Himalayan peaks - on a clear day it is possible to see Mt Everest (8,848m). We set off at 0400 up 'jeepable' roads to the top of the Hill on which sat a concrete structure reminiscent of the famous mountain top restaurant in the Alps. However, this had seen better days with little internal fittings and few windows. There were hundreds of jeep taxis (the most prevalent form of local transport) and quite a crowd of, mainly, Indians. We stood around huddled into our warm clothing waiting for the sun to rise and the mist to lift - we weren't too bothered about the order of events. In the meantime, we fended off purveyors of postcards of what we were there to see and chai sellers. The mist swirled around and we waited - we may have had a brief small glimpse of mountain top and, perhaps hopefully, some snow capped peaks - but no spectacular rose hued pinnacles. Giving up, we headed back for breakfast.

The Himalayan Zoological Park has had some success at breeding rare / endangered animals. Including the elusive but fluffy Snow Leopard with its smudged rosettes and long bush tail, the shaggy Tibetan Wolf and comical Red Panda. They also have a breeding programme for the powerful Royal Bengal Tiger - unfortunately, just before In left the UK it had been announced that the gene pool for this species was now too small to be viable : yet another extinction. There were also single examples of the 'common' Leopard, the Black (Melanistic) Leopard and the Clouded Leopard (which although being a spotted cat isn't from the Leopard (Panthera) family. Despite everything having largish compounds with 'enrichment' the Tigers were showing signs of stress related metronomic pacing.

Adjoining the Zoo was the Mountaineering Institute which teaches and promotes climbing in the region but also has an Everest Museum. This was fascinating with many pieces of equipment used in assaults on the peak, atmospheric photos of climbs and of proud people who had reached the pinnacle, some very sad and tatty stuffed animals & birds found in the mountains and, what really brought things into perspective, a number of 3D maps showing the whole range and the Tibetan Plateau beyond. As ever, it's the often the strange / wonderful item that stays longest in the memory : in this case it will probably be a pair of leather walking boots specially made for somebody that had lost all his toes to frostbite - they were truncated just below the laces.

It was suggested that we might like to visit the Tibetan Refugee Centre were Tibetan craft-work is on sale. However, it was Tibetian New Year and it was closed.

We took the steam powered Toy Train up as far as the station at Ghoom - a journey of about 6 miles. The train shared the road with vehicles for most of the journey shaving itself past shopfronts and cliff faces - spewing steam and soot its shrill whistle gave plenty of notice of its approach : of course it had right of way over everything. We had a brief stop at a large memorial to Gurkha deaths in service of Britain and then visited the Railway Museum in Ghoom. From there we had a gentle walk back to town on a back road that contours around the other side of the ridge. It took us past the front doors of many small houses. Evidently they are restricted to a first floor only - unless you have enough money to bribe a planning official.

One of our excursions was to the Botanical Gardens - it was a long walk down hill through the thongs in the back streets.  I didn't really realise that we were there until I started to see Latin labels on the trees. There was an Orchid House (but it was the wrong season for blooms) and a large glasshouse but it didn't seem to be any better than an average garden centre back home. It must have been an idyllic place in its heyday but, with paths lined with barbed wire fences, empty concrete pools gathering dead leaves and fountains that look as if they contained frozen water when it was a thick scum, it was no more.

This faded glory theme was evident elsewhere with beautiful old buildings falling apart, the paint flaking of the badminton hall / skating rink at the Gymkhana Club, potholed roads with open drains and people having to carry water home. However, there was enough left to still generate a feeling of how it must have been during the full force of the Raj. It is perhaps understandable that the Indian Government doesn't want to preserve its colonial past when it has so many other pressing problems. However, it is both an integral part of its history and a valuable tourist revenue generator.

Rangpur

This morning we left Bogra and headed, via Rangpur, to Dinajpur and visited the Jamindar Palace. A faded pile that once must have been an imposing building with columns and balconies - hanging in several places from the eaves were several large swarms of bees. In the rear courtyard there was a small temple - around the back of which we came across a group of local men being fed by their woman : the food was placed on green palm leaves.

Jamidar Palace

Kitchen

We will stayed in Dinajpur for lunch in a noisy buzzing local restaurant - a constant supply of new dishes arrived and were promptly consumed. Out the back was the kitchen were large cauldrons were bubbling over flaming pits.

Then it was off to Mahasthangarh to what were told was one of the most spectacular monuments in Bangladesh, the Kantanagar temple. Built of brick and terracotta every inch of the temple surface is beautifully embellished with exquisitely sculptured terracotta plaques representing flora, fauna, geometric motifs, mythological scenes and an astonishing array of contemporary social scenes and favourite pastimes.

Afterwards we headed back to Rangpur where we were to stay for the night. During the afternoon we visited the Taihat Palace - one of the most imposing ones we had seen with a grand sweeping staircase but inside it was total faded glory with fading, flaking paint and massive locked wooden doors.

From there it was through the local backroads by rickshaw to the Kali Temple - a strange mixture of Eastern and classical European - all nubile angels and cherubs.

Our accommodation for the night was the best so far - the base of a NGO working with local communities on empowerment, health etc projects. There was a spacious and comfy lounge with satellite TV, a extensive library of paperbacks and free WiFi. After the past couple of night in a hotel that was right on a major road junction - there was horns blaring all night.

Into India

An early start today breakfast at 0600 and on the road by 0700. Breakfast was amazing - a wide selection including a choice of fried, boiled and a choice of orange or ginger marmalade. Our long drive today would take us across the border into Indian and the state of West Bengal.  

The border crossings weren't as horrendous as they could have been between two states with a love of detail, forms and general bureaucracy - all many thanks to the long departed Raj. Bangladesh emigration was fine - we didn't even have to get off the bus. Rowthin our local guide just took all the passports into the office, they were stamped and an officer came out to count heads.

A short walk across a dusty no-man's land took us to a higgly-piggly set of small corrugated metal sheet shacks - none with any clear indication of whether they were something important or just somebody's shop or house. We negotiated our way along a windy dirt path over a narrow bridge over a dried rubbish choked stream bed.


Now we encountered the full force of Indian paperwork - a table outside behind which 3 or 4 uniformed police officers held court. We were given a long form to fill in and had been warned that we must only use block capitals and should not make any mistakes. Every seasoned traveller keeps a stock of pens ready for such events but what wasn't provided was a writing surface - so everybody improvised whatever they could. With trepidation, as I had to make a couple of small corrections, I handed my form into the Sub-Inspector in charge - he was all smiles and said it was fine. Then it was inside one of the shacks where there were even more officers sat behind an even bigger desk - each poised over a large paper ledger. Taking our passports off us, they wrote down of lodsa unknown details, asked us our professions and required us to sign our entry - job done ! Customs hadn't even exercised their right to inspect our luggage. A fairly painless session of money changing followed - good rates had been arranged for the whole group which all the change booths honoured - they even provided a free cup of chai whilst we waited.

Then we boarded "Thunder King" for so was our new conveyance named - 'new' was a bit of a misnomer if not prosecutable under the Trades Description Act. We had been promised a bigger bus - it wasn't - it had certainly been well used. There were electric fans on each side of each row of seats : the individual switches were in plastic blocks usually seen in houses back home. They were positioned just right so that if your head lolled as you snoozed or on a bump, you came in contact with a sharp hard corner. The doors were secured by bolts you would normally buy from B&Q and the window catches looked as if they could easily be opened from outside - so no more happily leaving stuff on the bus whist we visited a site etc.
As soon as we entered India we stared to notice changes :

- the lush green wet paddy fields gave way to scruffy dusty fields dotted with livestock but little seemed to be growing.

- there was now litter and rubbish everywhere - gone were the well swept villages, now there were scruffy towns. This might have had a bit to do with the fact that the Bangladesh government had banned plastic bags some years ago.

- In Dakah we had seen the full range of cars but once outside there had only been trucks, buses, pedal rickshaws and a few small motorcycles & 4x4s. As soon as we crossed the border the were cars & motorcycles clogging the road.

- Most of our travels around Bangladesh had been on the floodplains of its massive rivers - greenery to the horizon : rice, tobacco and maize broken only by the occasional stand of trees giving shade to small villages and what seemed to be ever present brickworks signaled by smoking chimneys. Now we actually encountered inclines and even hills.

- Whilst in Bangladesh we were constantly the centre of friendly curiosity. People would stop and watch us walk past, ask us where we were from and ask to take our photograph or have their photograph taken with us or for us to take their photo. Any smile and/or wave was usually returned with interest : overall very friendly peoples. In India were were ignored !

Towards the end of our journey we started the climb into the foothills of the Himalayas. We twisted up the sides of steep sided ravines with sheer drops down to the rocky river seen fleeting through the thick vegetation. We passed a massive hydro-electric dam already halfway across the river - evidently there had been objections both on the grounds of environmental impact and because it was being imposed by the central government and the local region would see little benefit.

We eventually reached the the hill station of Darjeeling. In the days of the Raj the Bengal government escaped from Calcutta Summer's heat to take up its official summer residence here and today's city dwellers still do likewise with Darjeeling being a popular holiday spot.

At 2,134m, the town is beautifully situated on a mountain ridge; the near vertical streets are crowded with a colourful mixture of Hindus and hill tribes – Lepchas, Bhutias and refugee Tibetans among them. On a clear day the views over the mountains to the snowy Himalayan peaks are magnificent or so we were told - during our visit the mist swirled up, over and around the hills.

The Darjeeling Himalayan Railway connects the town with the plains and has one of the few steam locomotives still in service in India. Despite being a 'Heritage' facility it is falling into disrepair and the steam trains are now very old asthmatic and lacking enough power to be of any real use. They pull the small number of carriages that make up the tourist 'toy' train but soulless diesels now undertake the daily grind.

The town, with its neighbour Kalimpong, was a centre for the demand of the Gorkhaland movement in the 1980s. In recent years the town's fragile ecology has been threatened by a rising demand for environmental resources, stemming from growing tourist traffic and poorly planned urbanisation. We were told of increasingly agitation for more autonomy and a greater slice of the national budget. There are many points of conflict - eg they have only few MPs and so its voice is only faintly heard in Government and Darjeeling's water system was originally installed by the British but it hasn't been improved or even maintained - despite now supporting a population three times its design capacity. In protest, many of the local population have neither paid taxes nor utility bills for up to three year. The Government has threatened to cease generating hydro-electricity but the locals have said "Fine we use very little when compared with the heavily populated plains with its heavy industry.