Beijing Arrival and Day One(28/29APR)

My arrival into Beijing was exhausting, with over 48 hours of travel from Darjeeling to Siliguri (it's fun to say, but not to stay), Mumbai, 18 hours at the airport before Singapore, and finally Beijing. Once I arrived I then had to find my way from the Airport to my hostel, which I had been told was a challenge in itself. Some friends had stayed there and arrived in Beijing at midnight, got dropped off in the wrong area, walked for hours until they found a friendly, English speaking, local that could direct them in the right direction. Luckily, I arrived in the middle of the day, but I was still a little nervous. I took the bus into town and then tried to catch a cab, but for some reason, when I told them the address they refused my money and sped away, which I found quite odd. A cyclo driver was willing to take me, but I thought it was too far for him to be pedaling me, and he was charging too much. I met a girl from the west who knew her way around and she recommended the subway and was heading that way when another taxi driver offered his services. Of course, once he knew where I was going he changed his tune, but directed me back to the same cyclo driver! I was tired and surrendered to his eager service. He pedaled me through the back allies of the city, past all the local laborers in their uniform dress of overalls and plastic yellow hard hats. They all seemed to be heading home for the night as well and the sky was beginning to dim with the setting sun. Finally, my driver popped out on a main road running along the east side of the Forbidden City, and I knew my hostel was close. I spotted the sign and pointed it out to my driver, who didn't understand me and kept on pedaling down the road. Fortunately, he stopped to ask directions about a block later and got turned around. It was great to finally arrive and my hostel was cozy with a welcoming common area and I settled in for dinner there, too tired to seek out the local cuisine.

On my first full day in Beijing, I got a late start after chatting the morning away with a girl from Munich. She had traveled through SE Asia for 18 months on 6,000 Euro! I couldn't believe she could survive that long on so little money. Apparently she did a lot of home stays in small villages surviving on fish and rice... not exactly comfort, but impressive all the same.

In the afternoon, I met up with another guest at the hostel from Sweden, Tor, and we headed out to explore the 798 Art District. On the way we met up with a South African girl headed the same way and she joined our duo as well. I was looking forward to a break from the cultural/historical sites and the art district sounded like an interesting way to do it. The area is very large and covers several city blocks of old industrial buildings, which have been converted into art galleries, studios, coffee houses and restaurants. The art spills into the streets as well, with large sculptures of everything from babies on tanks, to cafe seating areas set up to look like a bird cage for patrons. Even some of the buildings were artsy, like a store front covered in PVC pipes and a coffee house with a glass door shaped like a coffee cup, which was filled with coffee beans between the panes of glass. I was also surprised to see how much of the art had anti-regime/communism themes. There were studios of both modern art and more traditional styles as well as some photography studios with modern twists, like a series of photos that were manipulated to make the landscape and portraits appear to be underwater. We spent the whole afternoon wondering a little aimlessly through the galleries and studios, until the place began to close down. We had no maps or guides to the area, but I'm pretty sure we only scratched the surface of what they had to offer.

Traveling through the city, I was impressed by how modern it was and would continue to be impressed with this throughout my trip through China. However, it is sad to think about all the traditional buildings and neighborhoods that have been lost in the countries rapid growth. I read some article about the old neighborhoods that were leveled to build the Olympic grounds and was amazed at how large an area the complex covers, so the amount of historical buildings and dislocated families must have been incredible. In that light, it is nice that some of the old industrial buildings, and history, have been preserved in the 798 Art District, so I guess I was touring a little history and culture there after all.

Darjeeling (21-26APR)

My trip to Darjeeling actually began with grand plans to visit a Wildlife Refuge, cross the border on a day trip to Bhutan, and trekking the Himalayan foothills. Unfortunately, I had eaten something that didn't agree with me (possibly the McDonald's Veggie burger), so I had to take a day off in Siliguri and spent 24 hours in bed or on the toilet. In addition the tourism office had pretty lousy hours of operation, so I decided to just head for Darjeeling and look into trekking when I got there.

After my 24 hour respite, I caught a shared Jeep Taxi up the mountain to Darjeeling. The trip was suppose to take two and a half hours, but turned into an all day affair. Our driver must have eaten at McDonald's as well, because he was stopping every hour to squat behind a tree or use a roadside toilet. At the fifth stop, he came back out with a new driver, I assumed he was swapping out so he could stay by a toilet, but he jumped in the back seat instead. The new driver started the Jeep and broke the transfer case as soon as he put the truck in gear. We hung around the jeep about 15 minutes, and I was wondering how we'd get the rest of the way to Darjeeling but had no one to ask that spoke English. My answer came when everyone started moving to another jeep that had room for our group and our driver slipped the new driver some cash. We transferred luggage, got cozier and finished the journey.

The drive was long, but the scenery was impressive and the air cooled as we climbed into the clouds. When we arrived, the city was cloaked in clouds, and I hiked up the hill to the center of town to check into the Bellevue Hotel. The hotel had it's own charm with wood paneling, a rooftop shrine, small garden and windows overlooking the town square. It was ran by a Tibetan man who had worked with the Dali Lama in his younger years and had old pictures of those days lining some of the walls. The city is draped over a steep ridge so everywhere you go is either up or down and most roads run parallel to one another and are connected by stairs. Despite the fact that I was still in India, the area and people did not look Indian but reflected more of a mix of the surrounding countries of Nepal, China and Bhutan. The city is packed with buildings clinging to the steep slopes, and gives way to lush green of tea plantations and the rich vegetation of foothill forests of Bamboo and evergreens. However, the air was thick with clouds, fog and haze my entire visit so the scenery faded quickly, and I rarely saw a horizon and never beyond to the mountains beyond.

Since the weather seemed questionable with rain and cloudy skies forecasted for the next few days, and I was not feeling 100 percent, I decided against the trekking. However, I did meet two Aussie girls that went on a four day trek during my stay. They reported great weather, saw all five of the major peaks and couldn't stop raving about how well the trek turned out... of course, I was jealous and would have been happier if they didn't talk about it at all.

I also wanted to go white water rafting while I was there and assumed the spring run off would have the rivers rumbling. Unfortunately, that was not the case and the tour groups weren't even running rafting trips because the river was actually too low! My final disappointment was an early morning trip to Tiger Hill to watch the sunrise and try to catch a glimpse of Mt Everest and the other peaks that you can see from the hill on a good day. Sadly, it was not a good day and we couldn't even see Darjeeling five kilometers up the ridge. The sun had probably risen an hour before it finally burned through/climbed over the mist and clouds and into view from the three story viewing station that has been built on the hill to facilitate all the tourist like me, who make this morning pilgrimage. The other tourist were probably the most interesting part of the trip. They were mostly Indian and let out a collective cheer when the sun finally came into view.

I did take a few tourist trips around the town to visit the Botanical Gardens, Zoo, the Mountaineering Institute, and Happy Valley Tea Plantation. The Mountaineering Institute only made me more disappointed that I hadn't made it on a trek, but I actually had a relapse with my 'Dehli belly' or 'Kolkata cramps' as the case may be, so I was probably better off missing out. We did our own trek down to the Tea Plantation, which the Lonely Planet made out to be a must see, but a drive by would have sufficed. The tea pickers are quite colorful against the green blanket tea bushes, with umbrellas of every shade connected to the baskets on their backs for tea leaves. Anyway, I did not feel the best on the hike down to the plantation, which may have dampened my opinion of the plantation tour. I had no appatite and felt exausted when we got back, and I ended up spending another 24 hours between bed and the bathroom and went to the pharmacy for antibiotics the next day. Despite being ill, I was happy that it happened during my free week between tours, so I had a chance to do nothing... even if I would have much rathered done more.

Despite all the disappointments, I did meet two good guys from Australia that I hung out with through out my stay in Darjeeling. They were traveling through India before heading into Nepal to climb to the first hill station on Everest. They were great company, and I hope the rest of their trip went well. It would have been nice to join them, but I was off to continue my own adventure. All that stood between me and China was another Jeep back down the mountain to catch another overnight bus, and a 18 hour wait at the airport for my flight out of India. Oh joy!

Kolkata (18/19APR)

The bastard son of the East India Company, pulled from the gutters by Mother Teresa, this is Kolkata. Kolkata's history as a city is fairly short, as it was initially a series of villages that the British occupied/bought and turned into the capital of the East India Company in 1690. Fort William was constructed and a large area was cleared around the fort for security. The area that was cleared remains today and is now a large park in the center of the city called the Maidan. The architecture through out the city still reflects the British rule, and at the northeast end of the Maidan the old city center/center for the East India Company looks like it could have been pulled right out of London. However, the piles of trash and hulks of old taxis under the trees along the road reminded you that you were still in India.
By the time we arrived in Kolkata, I was getting tired of India, so it was good that the city was my last stop with the tour. As I was preparing to leave the city, I realized I really hadn't taken many photos, which is probably a reflection of my wavering motivation, since the city did have character as well as characters on the streets that I could have captured. On our first day, we settled into the hotel and waited for the day to cool off in the late afternoon before venturing out for some site seeing. We arrived fairly early in the morning and decided to have some breakfast at the hotel, while we waited for our rooms. The hotel bar/restaurant had the look of a night club rather than a restaurant and despite the early hour, the staff's first offering was cold beer. We passed on the beer and ordered some of their breakfast options. The food was pretty bad and the service was horrendous. I really couldn't believe how bad it was. They had a staff of five attending to our group, the only customers in the place, and yet the food took forever, orders were wrong and even getting a bottle of water was a chore. Despite all of this we went back the following evening for a drink before bed but despite a decent crowd, they closed promptly and swiftly at eleven. My roommate wanted to buy a water, as we were paying for our drinks and getting urged toward the door. Granted we probably should have known better from our experience getting water in the morning, but he tried anyway. As not to blemish their record of poor customer service, they actually told him he would have to order it through room service!?! I would think this makes absolutely no since as it would be easier to give him the bottle right there rather than send someone up to the fifth floor to drop it off at our room, but they insisted. So, he requested the water at the front desk and five minutes later they brought the water to our room, but had no change, so they had to make a second trip with that as well. Amazing.
But I digress. Our first evening we walked through some of the slums and back roads where we saw a lot of campaign posters and signs for the local communist party. It is strange to see the hammer and sickle like Soviet Union's flag flying around a democratic country, but our guide told us that the communist party is actually more like the Labor Party in England and actually holds a majority of seats for some of the Indian provinces. We continued on to the convent where Mother Teresa lived, worked and is now buried. It is still an active convent and has a small museum about her life. She was born Albanian in present day Skopje, Macedonia, but left to become a nun at age 18 and never returned home. She began her work in India in 1929 and saw the famine and Hindu/Muslim violence of the 1940s when Bangladesh broke away from India. It was during this time that she had the calling to establish the Missionaries of Charity in Kolkata. She initially wondered the streets, amongst the destitute she would later help, and had to beg for food and shelter, before she established her first mission with 13 members,. At the time of her death, it had expanded to 610 missions in 123 countries. The museum was simple, but her life story is amazing and made me feel guilty about my leisurely travels.
On our second day in Kolkata, a group of us went down to the BBD Bagh, which is named after three freedom fighters, Benoy, Badal, Dinesh who shot and killed the British Inspector of Prison's as he stood in a window of the Writer's Building in the square. The Writer's Building was the headquarters of the East Indian Company and is named for the clerks that kept track of all the Companies paperwork in the building. Across the street is the Post Office, which was the site of the original Fort William where the Black Hole of Calcutta was located. In 1756 the locals rebelled against the British and sacked the fort. They put the people they captured into a small guard room (the Black Hole) overnight and reportedly 123 of the 146 prisonners died of heat exhaustion, suffocation or trampling. There are few accounts of the event and the actual number of deaths, or if it occurred at all, have been questioned by historians.
After wondering around BBD Bagh, we cut through part of the Maiden and on to the Museum, which claimed to have the 'greatest collection of fossils in the world' however I think the collection of dinosaur bones at the Western Wyoming Community College may have it beat. We wondered the museum a bit and then went in search of lunch and decided to try McDonalds before we left India. The veggie burger was pretty miserable and everyone that ate there was sick later, so it may have given us food poisoning as well.

My last stop was the Victoria Memorial, which is an impressive building and museum with a collection of artwork depicting scenes in India as well as a section on the history of Kolkata from the East India Company's arrival, development of Indian Intellects/Philosophy, Press and Independance movement. However, getting inside was an ordeal. I initially entered the gardens from the east and found the entrance was not on that side of the building tried the south side and was directed to the north side. When I got to the entrance I was then directed back out of the grounds to the north gate to buy a ticket. I was sweating buckets in the 105 degree heat and humidity, and found an Indian style queue at the ticket booth where, despite around 50 people waiting for tickets, only one window was open. Around the window, two lines had formed the led into a mob at the window. I applaude the Indians that were actually waiting in line, and I joined them. Meanwhile others were walking right past the lines to enter the mob at the window that somehow thought they were above waiting. When the line approached the mob, I tapped a few of them on the shoulder and told them to get in line, but they conveniently couldn't understand English. To top it off, my ticket cost 15 times more than the ticket for Indians, but it didn't get me any perks, like a seperate line for westerners, which would have been nice. Did I mention I was getting tired of India at this point? Anyway, I wondered the Memorial until it closed, then hustled back to the hotel for quick goodbyes with the few people from the tour that were still in town and headed for the bus depot to catch my night bus to Darjeeling.

Varanasi (15-17APR)

Varanasi was one of the oldest, holiest and dirtiest cities on the tour. With all these -ests, it is easy to understand why people tend to have strong opinions about the town. Many people love it and consider it a highlight of their tour, while others hate it, like my guide who would not visit the city if he wasn't forced to with a tour. I found the ghats along the river with their religious and social significance quite interesting and picturesque in the morning sun, but would not visit the town for many other reasons.

On our first day in town, we took a walk down the ghats from from the edge of town, where our hotel was, to the center. There are 98 ghats in all but they really all run together to form one long set of stairs, or bleachers, along the river bank. It was high noon when we started our walk and the heat was intense, however it was the stew that was being brewed in the river that caught my attention. We were walking down stream, so each new event/ingredient just added to the next. The first ingredient was sewage. Unfortunately, the sewage outlet had been placed just up stream from the city water treatment intake point... not real solid urban planning. Next we had people doing their laundry, adding a little soap to the stew, which was probably appreciated by the cows that were bathing a little further down. Actually, they were probably just trying to escape the afternoon heat, but they were also another ingredient. After the cows, there were a few more sewage drainage points, some of which were so fowl you could taste the stench in the air. Then we passed the burning ghats where the ashes of the faithful were being washed into the river. Finally, after all of these ingredients were added, we came to a ghat where the locals were bathing and swimming in this stew of ewe. In the morning, one of the bathers invited us to join them, saying you only live once, but I think that stew could make that one life a little uncomfortable with dysentery or worse.

At sunset, we set out on a medium sized row boat for a candle ceremony on the boat, followed by the flower ceremony on the shore. As the sun set our oarsman began to light candles in over 100 bowls made of banana leaves. We then set them a float in the river carrying wishes for us and our loved ones. By the time they were all on the river, they made the river glow like a second city skyline. After all of the candles had floated down stream in the slow river, we move toward the central ghat where a large crowd had formed to watch or participate in the flower ceremony. The ceremony is held every evening and involved five Brahmans conducting a series of ritual offerings in unison with flowers, flames and bells accompanied by lots of other bells, a couple drums, and oversaw by a local guru. We watched the ceremony for about 15 minutes and then moved back up the river to find dinner.

In the morning, we got up at 4:30 to head back out on the river for sunrise and to watch the city wake up. The crowd along the ghats grew quickly as did the crowd on the river as boats filled with other tourist and locals began their morning. There were smaller morning ceremonies taking place, bodies being prepared for cremation, crowds of locals doing their laundry to beat the heat of the day, and larger crowds of locals, and a few brave/crazy tourists, swimming and bathing. The sunrise was beautiful, casting an orange glow on the city as it tried to burn off the morning mist that cloaked the river bank.

While we were in Varanasi there were local elections, which kept us off the streets for the rest of the day, and the whole town seemed asleep until about five in the evening. After the election day lull, everyone was keen to go to Saranth, the following day, which is the site of Buddha's first sermon. The taxi ride was grueling, as usual, with every driver maneuvering for himself and only giving way at the last moment if necessary. Even the few police that were trying to establish order at round-abouts were being ignored until they stood directly in front of the traffic. When we arrived in Saranth, we found out that the museum was closed that day and ended up with a local guide that had some good information, but seemed to repeat everything three times for emphasis, or to simply make his short tour longer. In Deer Park, there is a large stupa at the site of Buddha's first sermon, which had been destroyed by conquering moghuls who believed it housed treasures of the Buddhist religion. It has been rebuilt, but the damage is still evident. Also in the town were multiple monasteries/temples built by the various countries that have large Buddhist followings. Our guide recommended going to only one, saying they all charged an entrance fee, but it appeared this was more of a ruse to keep us from going to all of them and keeping him from guiding another group... or he may have been working for our taxi drivers to get us back on the road to Varanasi as soon as possible. At any rate, the Tibetan temple we did visit was free and was an impressive and colorful structure. You could see the Asian influences in the building's design, statues of other gods on the grounds, the two lions guarding the entrance and dragons wrapped around the pillars on either side of the main Buddha statue inside. It was an impressive temple, and I would have liked to see some of the other country's temples as well. Instead, we loaded back in our taxis and returned to Varanasi to prepare for our 17 hours night train journey to Kolkata.