Darjeeling, Queen of the Hills
The first thing I learned was that drinking tea in Darjeeling is a rather regal affair.
Once grandly appointed, those once-spacious rooms had long since been halved, and our quarters now looked decidedly lopsided and care-worn. The hotel's original palatial grounds had also been reduced in size, yet still managed to retain a simple old-world charm and elegance.
Thankfully, all the meals they served were superb, and the informative hotel staff treated us with genuine warmth and courtesy. Also, much to my Mother's delight, the hotel had retained the English custom of afternoon tea, which they served in our room upon our arrival.
Our tea tray was magnificent, with bone china cups and saucers arranged on a silver tray complete with a bone china tea service, silver teapot, milk jug and sugar bowl, silver teaspoons and a tea-strainer.
Accompanying our tea were, of course, the requisite English Tea biscuits (cookies). It felt like we had both stepped back half a century to the latter days of the British Raj, when everything and everyone, in India, stopped for tea.
Ironically, the altitude that grows the world's finest tea also makes it impossible for water to boil hotly enough to successfully steep those fragrant tea leaves for a hot and refreshing cuppa.
We soon discovered these tea leaves absorbed so much hot water that they expanded to fill half the huge teapot. So we made good use of that tea strainer. There were no puny teabags in evidence here.
My poor lanky uncle did not fare so well, succumbing to the dreaded and euphemistically entitled "hill sickness", which is altitude sickness combined with Montezuma's revenge. Thus, our whole family took a much needed break during the day after our arrival. The whole family, that is, except for me.
Awakened early by the temple bells of surrounding Buddhist Monasteries, which summoned the faithful to their prayer, I almost gleefully left my bed before the sun rose. Although I am a night-owl in Canada, the dulcet tones of those soothing bells somehow spoke to me, urging me to get up, dress warmly and explore outside the hotel. Pedestrians were safer in the city than on the road that carried us to it, so I felt the experience worth the risk of venturing out alone.
A brief but plentiful mountain rain had cleansed the streets, and freshened the air overnight. And the long shadows of dawn lent to Darjeeling the mysterious aura of a medieval European village. After my faux pas of the previous day, I was more than eager to photograph the architecture or an unique scene in that magical place.
Camera poised, I was about to shoot a Victorian schoolhouse, when a Buddhist monk suddenly and silently exited from the schoolhouse door. His head had been shaved, and he carried in his hands a dorje and a small Tibetan bell. Only a faded wine-coloured garment over his saffron robes protected him from the chill mountain air. So, when I noted that he wore open sandals on his naked feet, I shivered in spite of myself.
photo by kind courtesy of: http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2417/2196342921_14fc6ab3e9_o.jpg
But apart from an ethnic similarity in their Tibetan facial features, I had not recognized any of these early risers. Their garments had been identical, so I felt sure that I had finally the place where an actual meeting might occur. And that realization made me feel immediately very much at home in Darjeeling and brought me a degree of comfort.
In England, where I grew up, many public parks and stately homes feature rhododenrons in their formal gardens. My Father, an avid amateur photographer, had loved these showy signature plants so much that we planted several in our own back garden in London.
Bedford Abbey Rhododenrons, 1962 photo by M.Jack H (dec'd)
Until his untimely death in 1964, Dad had devoted much time and energy to capturing the jewelled colours and rose-like rhododendron blooms on photographic slides. I had always loved their brilliant flowers, which had prompted the ancients Greeks to name them "rose tree", which translates as rhododendron. Now, I was so excited by seeing the taller, larger Indian version of this "shrub" that I could hardly wait to tell my husband, Mike, all about it!
I really missed having him with me on this trip.
LEOPARDS, TIGERS AND BEARS,
OH MY!
photo by kind courtesy of: http://www.darjeelingnews.net/wp-content/gallery/himalayan-mountaineering/himlayan-mountaneering-darjeeling.jpg
To my frustration, even the larger animals were so far away as to be barely visible through my camera's view-finder. Somehow I needed to get closer to them. But a person simply does not expect to get up close and personal with a sleeping zoo animal! Unless, of course, that person is me.
BENGAL TIGER
As fate would have it, my path crossed that of the tiger handler who explained, via hand gestures and very broken English, that his favourite old tiger was feeling poorly that day. When I expressed concern and asked if I might meet his tiger, the handler led me to a thick wooden door that provided entry to a covered stone enclosure.
At eye level, a foot square hole had been carved into the door, and into this hole were fitted several stout vertical steel bars, through which I peered into the gloom of the tiger's cell. As my eyes adjusted, I was delighted to see about 9 feet of sleeping tiger fur sprawled across the cool stone floor.
I noted that tiger's paws and claws were enormous, and his jaws seemed very strong, certainly healthy enough to rip flesh from bone. Yet, his breathing did seem quite laboured. While I had hoped to stay longer, the overpoweringly acrid aroma of rotting meat permeated his quarantine area, which not-so-subtly discouraged lingering.
"This is Bengal Tiger" he replied curtly before shooing me, the ignorant tourist, away from the door separating him from his beloved charge.
I turned reluctantly to leave, when the tiger handler's demeanour suddenly changed and instead, he beckoned me to stay.
He was now positioned about 3 feet to the right of the original tiger door, beside a smaller, 2-foot square cell door situated about waist level and set into the thick stone walls.
"You want to see Tiger?" he asked, in a taunting sing-song tone. "Come closer, come see tiger!"
I leaned forward, next to the smaller door, preparing to, once again, peer into the gloom. But as I waited for a closer look, the handler gleefully flung wide the door and I was immediately assailed by the full fury of the enormous crouching cat whose jaws unhinged and growled at me so loudly that I shook uncontrollably for what felt like an eternity but was probably only a few seconds.
Picture Source: ucumari and Animal Photos
At first I staggered backwards, but in my effort to turn and run, fell headlong down several concrete steps before regaining my composure. By now, the handler was laughing heartily and I could see actual tears in his eyes.
My own heart was beating so hard it felt like it would burst through my chest. That perfectly healthy tiger cat seemed to thoroughly enjoy his part in their cruel practical joke; so much so, I could swear he was also smiling at my obvious distress!
When my shock finally abated, I was able to reassure myself that, despite my adrenaline overload, the several stout bars set into that cell's smaller door meant I had been in no real danger.
Mother later told me that Indian villagers, who have unexpectedly encountered these beasts in the wild, have often died of sheer fright from the blood-curdling roar and breath of the tiger alone.
Having been there, and done that, I can certainly understand how and why they would literally be scared to death! Luckily, I had had stout steel bars preventing me from becoming this particular tiger's afternoon snack.
To fulfill one's impossible dream, one must first be willing to undertake extraordinary risks - and (for ME) 'communing' with that beautiful, endangered wild creature definitely fitted into that category, despite the presence of those stout bars!
The first thing I learned was that drinking tea in Darjeeling is a rather regal affair.
Mother and I shared a room in Hotel Sinclair, the very same Victorian hotel in which she and her schoolmates had stayed while visiting that city, six decades before.
Thankfully, all the meals they served were superb, and the informative hotel staff treated us with genuine warmth and courtesy. Also, much to my Mother's delight, the hotel had retained the English custom of afternoon tea, which they served in our room upon our arrival.
Our tea tray was magnificent, with bone china cups and saucers arranged on a silver tray complete with a bone china tea service, silver teapot, milk jug and sugar bowl, silver teaspoons and a tea-strainer.
Accompanying our tea were, of course, the requisite English Tea biscuits (cookies). It felt like we had both stepped back half a century to the latter days of the British Raj, when everything and everyone, in India, stopped for tea.
Ironically, the altitude that grows the world's finest tea also makes it impossible for water to boil hotly enough to successfully steep those fragrant tea leaves for a hot and refreshing cuppa.
We soon discovered these tea leaves absorbed so much hot water that they expanded to fill half the huge teapot. So we made good use of that tea strainer. There were no puny teabags in evidence here.
We were indeed in strong tea country!
If you are cold, tea will warm you.
If you are heated, it will cool you.
If you are depressed, it will cheer you.
If you are excited, it will calm you."
~ William Gladstone
~ William Gladstone
Even though we had travelled through some of the world's biggest and best known tea plantations to get here, our first taste of tea was quite unexpectedly disappointing. Fortunately, the grandeur of sharing an elegant afternoon tea and quiet chat with the Grande Dame of our family more than made up for any of my dashed hopes. And isn't the exchange of ideas and information with one's family the true purpose behind the tradition of "high tea"
Learn more about Darjeeling at:
http://darjeeling.gov.in and http://www.darjnet.com/darjeeling/darjeeling
BUDDHIST MONKS
I slept amazingly well in Darjeeling. The altitude of almost 8000 ft felt, somehow, normal and familiar to me, even though I had never stepped foot on that terrain prior to 1993, at least not in this lifetime. And, despite the rarified atmosphere, I actually breathed more easily here than on the dusty plains of India.
http://darjeeling.gov.in and http://www.darjnet.com/darjeeling/darjeeling
BUDDHIST MONKS
I slept amazingly well in Darjeeling. The altitude of almost 8000 ft felt, somehow, normal and familiar to me, even though I had never stepped foot on that terrain prior to 1993, at least not in this lifetime. And, despite the rarified atmosphere, I actually breathed more easily here than on the dusty plains of India.
My poor lanky uncle did not fare so well, succumbing to the dreaded and euphemistically entitled "hill sickness", which is altitude sickness combined with Montezuma's revenge. Thus, our whole family took a much needed break during the day after our arrival. The whole family, that is, except for me.
Awakened early by the temple bells of surrounding Buddhist Monasteries, which summoned the faithful to their prayer, I almost gleefully left my bed before the sun rose. Although I am a night-owl in Canada, the dulcet tones of those soothing bells somehow spoke to me, urging me to get up, dress warmly and explore outside the hotel. Pedestrians were safer in the city than on the road that carried us to it, so I felt the experience worth the risk of venturing out alone.
A brief but plentiful mountain rain had cleansed the streets, and freshened the air overnight. And the long shadows of dawn lent to Darjeeling the mysterious aura of a medieval European village. After my faux pas of the previous day, I was more than eager to photograph the architecture or an unique scene in that magical place.
Camera poised, I was about to shoot a Victorian schoolhouse, when a Buddhist monk suddenly and silently exited from the schoolhouse door. His head had been shaved, and he carried in his hands a dorje and a small Tibetan bell. Only a faded wine-coloured garment over his saffron robes protected him from the chill mountain air. So, when I noted that he wore open sandals on his naked feet, I shivered in spite of myself.
photo by kind courtesy of: http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2417/2196342921_14fc6ab3e9_o.jpg
This first monk was followed by several identically clad monks, each of whom made eye contact with me and then bowed respectfully before passing by me. They all resembled the monk who had appeared to Mike and me half a world away in Burnaby, some 14 years before.
The resemblance was so strong, it startled me, at first. But then I became so engrossed in bowing back and replying with "Namaste" to each of them in turn that I totally forgot to actually USE my camera to record the event.
Not that any of those early morning monks had been the very same monk that had visited us in Canada. Though several years had passed, I felt certain I would readily know the special monk who had given us that wonderful carpet of pink roses.
But apart from an ethnic similarity in their Tibetan facial features, I had not recognized any of these early risers. Their garments had been identical, so I felt sure that I had finally the place where an actual meeting might occur. And that realization made me feel immediately very much at home in Darjeeling and brought me a degree of comfort.
for more information about Tibetan Buddhism:
http://tibetanaltar.blogspot.com/
DARJEELING ZOO
Because it clings to the ridges of the mountainous terrain, and is serviced only by a narrow roadway, it comes as a shock to realize that Darjeeling is home to 250,000 souls, several private schools and even its very own zoo.
Situated on the outskirts of the city, Darjeeling Zoo covers many hilly acres, that offer lush treed walkways that shade visitors from the pre-monsoon sunshine. The entrance leads to a meandering walkway that leads up the hillside to the various animal exhibits.
At such a high altitude, even a small incline taxes the heart and lungs, so Mom and I strolled very slowly, enjoying a cordial conversation amid the birdsong and plethera of flowering trees that decorated our pathway.
It was during that stroll that I saw, and instantly recognized, the same variety of rhododendron tree that had grown behind the apparition of 'my Canadian Buddhist monk'. Only then did Mother inform me that rhododendrons which grow as bushes in temperate climates, flourish as trees in India, and can reach up to and beyond 50 ft tall in the Himalayas.
http://tibetanaltar.blogspot.com/
DARJEELING ZOO
Because it clings to the ridges of the mountainous terrain, and is serviced only by a narrow roadway, it comes as a shock to realize that Darjeeling is home to 250,000 souls, several private schools and even its very own zoo.
Situated on the outskirts of the city, Darjeeling Zoo covers many hilly acres, that offer lush treed walkways that shade visitors from the pre-monsoon sunshine. The entrance leads to a meandering walkway that leads up the hillside to the various animal exhibits.
At such a high altitude, even a small incline taxes the heart and lungs, so Mom and I strolled very slowly, enjoying a cordial conversation amid the birdsong and plethera of flowering trees that decorated our pathway.
It was during that stroll that I saw, and instantly recognized, the same variety of rhododendron tree that had grown behind the apparition of 'my Canadian Buddhist monk'. Only then did Mother inform me that rhododendrons which grow as bushes in temperate climates, flourish as trees in India, and can reach up to and beyond 50 ft tall in the Himalayas.
In England, where I grew up, many public parks and stately homes feature rhododenrons in their formal gardens. My Father, an avid amateur photographer, had loved these showy signature plants so much that we planted several in our own back garden in London.
Bedford Abbey Rhododenrons, 1962 photo by M.Jack H (dec'd)
I really missed having him with me on this trip.
LEOPARDS, TIGERS AND BEARS,
OH MY!
The Darjeeling Zoo attracts an amazing 300,000 visitors every year. Held in very high esteem in India, it is a sanctuary to rare and unusual wildlife and, since 1986, this zoo has featured a Snow Leopard Breeding Centre.
By 2003, this enclave, which sprawls over an area of 44 hectares (108 acres) had five snow leopards, five tigers, 10 leopards, 6 Himalayan wolves, 27 birds and 93 reptiles and a number of Himalayan bears. Here also lived the only Siberian tigers in India!
By 2003, this enclave, which sprawls over an area of 44 hectares (108 acres) had five snow leopards, five tigers, 10 leopards, 6 Himalayan wolves, 27 birds and 93 reptiles and a number of Himalayan bears. Here also lived the only Siberian tigers in India!
While Mom highly approved of the motivations and exhibits of Darjeeling Zoo, she did not want to see the animals there. Like my Mother, I do not enjoy visiting animals in cages, as I would much rather see them in their own habitat. Mom seemed to prefer only my company that day. And, as we happily
strolled the grounds together, she educated me about all the different
trees and plants that are indigenous to this high altitude area of
India.
Mom's French grandmother's family had long ago become wise in the ways of homeopathy and herbal plants, and had bestowed that wisdom on their eldest grandchild. In her turn, Mom had then shared her knowledge with me. I had thus grown up with a love of the grand simplicity of Nature's design and an equally strong respect for all living things - which explains how my two pesky younger sisters actually survived to adulthood.
An avid gardener, my Mother is also a gifted teacher, with a vast knowledge of plants and herbs, both in Europe and in India. So learning from her, directly, on site, was a rare and thrilling privilege. Yet, I was still curious about the kinds of animals that lived at these altitudes, and how they would be portrayed in this particular zoo. Besides, I'd always wanted to see a real live Bengal tiger - up close and personal!
Mom's French grandmother's family had long ago become wise in the ways of homeopathy and herbal plants, and had bestowed that wisdom on their eldest grandchild. In her turn, Mom had then shared her knowledge with me. I had thus grown up with a love of the grand simplicity of Nature's design and an equally strong respect for all living things - which explains how my two pesky younger sisters actually survived to adulthood.
An avid gardener, my Mother is also a gifted teacher, with a vast knowledge of plants and herbs, both in Europe and in India. So learning from her, directly, on site, was a rare and thrilling privilege. Yet, I was still curious about the kinds of animals that lived at these altitudes, and how they would be portrayed in this particular zoo. Besides, I'd always wanted to see a real live Bengal tiger - up close and personal!
HIMALAYAN
MOUNTAINEERING
INSTITUTE
photo by kind courtesy of: http://www.darjeelingnews.net/wp-content/gallery/himalayan-mountaineering/himlayan-mountaneering-darjeeling.jpg
After we'd walked around the grounds of Darjeeling Zoo for an hour or so, Mom and I both visited the museum attached to the Himalayan Mountaineering Institute. It occupies a part of the zoo site, so was easy to include in our zoo experience.
Founded by Tenzing Norgay, the Sherpa who spent most of his life in Darjeeling before he led Hillary up Everest in 1953, this Institute teaches - you guessed it - climbing.
Afterwards, Mom really needed a long rest. So I left her on a bench by the statue of that local hero, happily perusing the leaflets we'd gathered during our visit to the Mountaineering Institute.
The rest of my relatives had also gone their own way upon entering the zoo. So, as soon as I was alone, I left the broader pathways to glean a closer view of the zoo's rare and endangered inhabitants.
By now, it was mid-afternoon and most of the creatures were napping, hiding in the shade or curled up behind rocks, in a bid to escape the unseasonally hot April sunshine.
BENGAL TIGER
As fate would have it, my path crossed that of the tiger handler who explained, via hand gestures and very broken English, that his favourite old tiger was feeling poorly that day. When I expressed concern and asked if I might meet his tiger, the handler led me to a thick wooden door that provided entry to a covered stone enclosure.
At eye level, a foot square hole had been carved into the door, and into this hole were fitted several stout vertical steel bars, through which I peered into the gloom of the tiger's cell. As my eyes adjusted, I was delighted to see about 9 feet of sleeping tiger fur sprawled across the cool stone floor.
I noted that tiger's paws and claws were enormous, and his jaws seemed very strong, certainly healthy enough to rip flesh from bone. Yet, his breathing did seem quite laboured. While I had hoped to stay longer, the overpoweringly acrid aroma of rotting meat permeated his quarantine area, which not-so-subtly discouraged lingering.
YOU WANT TO SEE TIGER?
I asked my companion if he had a special name for this magnificent beast, upon which he stared at me in a bemused fashion for a few seconds. "This is Bengal Tiger" he replied curtly before shooing me, the ignorant tourist, away from the door separating him from his beloved charge.
I turned reluctantly to leave, when the tiger handler's demeanour suddenly changed and instead, he beckoned me to stay.
He was now positioned about 3 feet to the right of the original tiger door, beside a smaller, 2-foot square cell door situated about waist level and set into the thick stone walls.
"You want to see Tiger?" he asked, in a taunting sing-song tone. "Come closer, come see tiger!"
I leaned forward, next to the smaller door, preparing to, once again, peer into the gloom. But as I waited for a closer look, the handler gleefully flung wide the door and I was immediately assailed by the full fury of the enormous crouching cat whose jaws unhinged and growled at me so loudly that I shook uncontrollably for what felt like an eternity but was probably only a few seconds.
This 'poorly' tiger was now magnificently ferocious in his expression, having the largest set of teeth and the foulest breath I ever want - or need again - to experience 'up close and personal'
Picture Source: ucumari and Animal PhotosAt first I staggered backwards, but in my effort to turn and run, fell headlong down several concrete steps before regaining my composure. By now, the handler was laughing heartily and I could see actual tears in his eyes.
My own heart was beating so hard it felt like it would burst through my chest. That perfectly healthy tiger cat seemed to thoroughly enjoy his part in their cruel practical joke; so much so, I could swear he was also smiling at my obvious distress!
When my shock finally abated, I was able to reassure myself that, despite my adrenaline overload, the several stout bars set into that cell's smaller door meant I had been in no real danger.
This pair's antics certainly shortened my lifespan by several years. Yet, nothing ventured, nothing gained!
Mother later told me that Indian villagers, who have unexpectedly encountered these beasts in the wild, have often died of sheer fright from the blood-curdling roar and breath of the tiger alone.
Having been there, and done that, I can certainly understand how and why they would literally be scared to death! Luckily, I had had stout steel bars preventing me from becoming this particular tiger's afternoon snack.
To fulfill one's impossible dream, one must first be willing to undertake extraordinary risks - and (for ME) 'communing' with that beautiful, endangered wild creature definitely fitted into that category, despite the presence of those stout bars!
My encounter with a large Bengal Tiger is a story that I will treasure for my lifetime, and hopefully relate to my great-grandchildren. Let us fervently hope that, when that generation is fully grown these majestic cats will still flourish in India.
Learn more about Bengal Tigers here:
http://www.indiantiger.org/bengal-tigers/indian-bengal-tiger.html
http://www.indiantiger.org/bengal-tigers/indian-bengal-tiger.html
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SECTION 1 Chapter 5 South Asian Culture Shock An Angel saves my sanity as we experience a mountain thunderstorm in Darjeeling together
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