Sleep in, so nice to stay in the same place for more than one day. Sounds of activity from the houses which the balcony overlooks. It is such a change traveling on the plains (Nepal - Terai) during summer versus winter. It negates the desire for carpet, the need for hot (tatopani) water geezers and increases the desire for mosquito nets and fans. AC is still a luxury that you can live without, as long as your room has windows, preferably a cross breeze and the previous. Yet to enter big creepy crawly territory so maybe the base requirements will differ there.
Hit the streets along the lane and past the Hill Cart Rd street side food and weirdly pet vendors. Mutually exclusive so nothing to be concerned about. Cute fluffy little puppies are obviously good sellers around here. I have also seen some big German Shepards. Cross the effectively four lane (unmarked) road and then stopped by a couple passing on a rickshaw. From Arunachal Pradesh and wondering if they can have their photos taken with us. Unfazed and not surprised given our prior indian experiences, in fact find it a quite nice opportunity for interaction. It's when a whole group are keen for photos and you go through various arrangement of shots that it gets a bit drawn out.
Cross the Mahananda river and then stop for breakfast in at a small hotel dhaba. The guys turn the fan on just over our table, special treatment. Aloo pratha good but I am missing our homemade Chandigarh pickle to spice it up a little. Here they give you green chillies and spanish (red) onion as condiments but not the jar of pickles or the curd like in Haryana. Chia however is very tasty as is the Chana masala which is almost gravy thick.
Back onto the streets and along towards the Hong Kong markets (or bistari (?) bazaar). Meet a young guy who is on his way to work, we discuss a few different things and he invites us to visit him in his village (25km from Siliguri) as few foreigners pass through. As he is writing down his address and we are standing on one of the main access lanes to the market I suddenly feel myself being dragged backwards. My backpack open to get a pen out has been caught by a passing rickshaw whose owner has not noticed. Our new friend and several nearby store owners yell in hindi at the rider to stop, appearing outraged, I on the other hand just feel surprised and glad to be unhooked.
Wander down crisscrossing the market moving from clothes to fruit to veg. Decide to buy some fruit for a fruit salad back in our room and so stand back and watch the bartering process to try and ascertain local prices. Not hard to see quantity and note exchange especially when you are able to recognize and differentiate note colours and sizes. Buy a small dark watermelon, several small and just ripe mangos, bananas and limes before leaving the fruit section. Several people later on inquiring as to the price we paid for the watermelon, to ascertain whether we have been scalped or not. 20rup seems on the higher of the local price range but below tourist rate so we are relatively happy. An older stall owner sitting with his goods out in front asks Soph to take a photo of his friend sitting alongside him, also with goods in front, but who we later find out is blind.
The markets are a scene of busy yet measured enterprise with a constant flow of people passing inspecting and enquiring prices from their vendor of choice. From the veg we move untoward the meat market where chickens in baskets sit huddled and cluck as very close by their compatriots are dispatched with efficiency. Guts are thrown in a pile as are feathers with the completed bird carcass placed on a table ready for purchase. Can't get much fresher and whilst still morning the heat is not yet at chronic salmonella levels. Still you have to feel for the remaining chickens, who in one basket I noticed for all facing inwards. Stop at a kitchen utensils store and purchase a stainless steel bowl for our salad, 25rup - less than one dollar.
On past the bag merchants to the side of the market and the sugar cane juice sellers whose carts have an old style hand driven wringer or roller attachment many with bells to attract passing trade. The sugar cane in run through the wringer then gradually folded back upon itself to milk as much juice as possible from the stalk. The juice trickles down sometimes over chunks of ice into an awaiting jug and then is poured into glasses sitting in glass holders on the front of the cart. Pre soft drink days. Unfortunately due to the uncertainty of the source of the ice we have not tried and so I am uncertain as to price per glass, but given that soft drink is 15rup (mrp) per small bottle it would have to be cheaper.
Just behind the juice carts spot some young green coconuts still on their stalks. Decide to grab one which is sliced open on the spot to try the juice. 10rup but the juice is not as sweet as I remembered. Soph has the pleasure for the rest of the morning walking around bearing a massive green coconut. Still between it and the watermelon we garner a little street cred so it is not all bad. Back to the hotel where we have fruit salad using our little paring knife and catch movie on cable before heading back out.
On the bridge say hi to a middle aged American who asks if we have a sec. We should have switched on at that stage but didn't and so said yes. He proceeded to pull out homestyle pics of exceedingly gruesome surgery that he had performed to remove large growths and legions. In doing so locals also stopped, the way that they do, to also check out the photos which he had no qualms in showing. He then pulled out a colour brochure which also had graphic photos on it and identified his work as being connected to an evangelical church. He had been he said operating here in Siliguri for the past seven years. The brochure however identified that the growths and the illnesses were the result of following false gods. One picture showing the removal of a leg effected with elephantiasis had next to it the cause of the illness as being the mans worship of the god Ganesh.
Initially impressed with the mans dedication to the poor and medically in need our disposition changed rapidly on reading his propaganda. Although Christian by birth and aware of the requirement to spread the "good news" the method of partial truths and perception we both found to be exceedingly distateful especially being communicated to the poorly educated people whom he would be exposed to. It left us feeling torn between our respect of indigenous culture and the desire for cost effective treatment for these horrible diseases which were a result of various causes many of which very human in cause and creation. We moved on without expressing our desired approval as a result of our perceived deception by a person we felt who should have been bound by higher ethical standards.
Further along the the road we passed several people with identifiable glaucoma, impressing upon us the desire to donate to the Fred Hollows Foundation an, as far as we are aware, non aligned non prejudiced vehicle for the support of local needy individuals. By whose very deeds are surely greater examples of charity and worldly support than a biased and marketed church based vehicle. I can understand the religious fervor that would simplify such a perception into base causes at their route or spiritual level but cannot condone it in a modern world especially having seen the examples of great charity and support evidenced under alternate spiritual vehicles.
Although again aware of the clause that their no alternate gate to heaven then by true belief in the Christian god, I, though maybe truly naive, would be far happier to be exposed to the potential of purgatory but to live what I perceive as an active good deed and action based life, attempting day by day to achieve a greater phase of human enlightenment than one of condemnation of another similar to that condoned during the european middle ages. The thought of such still brings tingles to my body and so I cannot otherwise justify my possibly simplistic judgment than by what feels true to my core. Maybe through further study of the major religions (christian, muslim, buddhist, hindu etc) I will, if granted the opportunity, alter my judgment, but as of today this is what I feel.
To break the mood we decide to catch a rickshaw to NJP (New Jalpaiguri) train station and nearby bazaar paying a rickshaw to take us what we believed to be a further km up the road. The journey turned out to be an exceeding complex series of back streets (with speed humps) and turns for a good half an hour of neck sweat raising effort on the behalf of our rickshaw peddler. A middle aged man of god humor, who after the first groan from the back ( emitted having bumped our heads on the pull over rain cover having crossing a speed bump at speed ) swerved all future road imperfections. 50 rup.
NJP was massive and like the other indian railway stations we had visited quite modern and relatively systemised. An army of rickshaws and tuk tuks, jeeps and vans were lined up out front only seconded by the street food vendors of Chats and Samosas. The Bazaar unfortunately was very quiet with many of the stores having pulled down their front roller doors and having gone home, leaving only the street cleaners.
Deciding to bail and get back into town we hailed a motorised rickshaw (tuk tuk) which we had all to ourselves. The driver spared no second in his attempt to brake all prior speed records getting us into town, as if he was a keen viewer of the Great (or is it Amazing?) Race shown on cable over here. It was great having the afternoon air swept into our faces as we swerved and beeped our way stopping completely only once we were back in at New Cart Rd.
Went looking for cyber cafes but the two we knew of were both closed for Sunday afternoon. (getting used to change over to Sunday as rest day versus Saturday in Nepal) Settled for dinner at Sartaj striking initially for it's ornately uniformed door man. Good Chinese/Asian apparently so went with the Chopsuey and Singapore noodles which definitely didn't disappoint, best since Old Lan Hua in Pokhara.
Back to the hotel and sounds of singing (surely they could find someone with a better voice) from a nearby temple recognising and mourning the passing of a very well known indian religious figure Sai Baba.
Hit the streets along the lane and past the Hill Cart Rd street side food and weirdly pet vendors. Mutually exclusive so nothing to be concerned about. Cute fluffy little puppies are obviously good sellers around here. I have also seen some big German Shepards. Cross the effectively four lane (unmarked) road and then stopped by a couple passing on a rickshaw. From Arunachal Pradesh and wondering if they can have their photos taken with us. Unfazed and not surprised given our prior indian experiences, in fact find it a quite nice opportunity for interaction. It's when a whole group are keen for photos and you go through various arrangement of shots that it gets a bit drawn out.
Cross the Mahananda river and then stop for breakfast in at a small hotel dhaba. The guys turn the fan on just over our table, special treatment. Aloo pratha good but I am missing our homemade Chandigarh pickle to spice it up a little. Here they give you green chillies and spanish (red) onion as condiments but not the jar of pickles or the curd like in Haryana. Chia however is very tasty as is the Chana masala which is almost gravy thick.
Back onto the streets and along towards the Hong Kong markets (or bistari (?) bazaar). Meet a young guy who is on his way to work, we discuss a few different things and he invites us to visit him in his village (25km from Siliguri) as few foreigners pass through. As he is writing down his address and we are standing on one of the main access lanes to the market I suddenly feel myself being dragged backwards. My backpack open to get a pen out has been caught by a passing rickshaw whose owner has not noticed. Our new friend and several nearby store owners yell in hindi at the rider to stop, appearing outraged, I on the other hand just feel surprised and glad to be unhooked.
Wander down crisscrossing the market moving from clothes to fruit to veg. Decide to buy some fruit for a fruit salad back in our room and so stand back and watch the bartering process to try and ascertain local prices. Not hard to see quantity and note exchange especially when you are able to recognize and differentiate note colours and sizes. Buy a small dark watermelon, several small and just ripe mangos, bananas and limes before leaving the fruit section. Several people later on inquiring as to the price we paid for the watermelon, to ascertain whether we have been scalped or not. 20rup seems on the higher of the local price range but below tourist rate so we are relatively happy. An older stall owner sitting with his goods out in front asks Soph to take a photo of his friend sitting alongside him, also with goods in front, but who we later find out is blind.
The markets are a scene of busy yet measured enterprise with a constant flow of people passing inspecting and enquiring prices from their vendor of choice. From the veg we move untoward the meat market where chickens in baskets sit huddled and cluck as very close by their compatriots are dispatched with efficiency. Guts are thrown in a pile as are feathers with the completed bird carcass placed on a table ready for purchase. Can't get much fresher and whilst still morning the heat is not yet at chronic salmonella levels. Still you have to feel for the remaining chickens, who in one basket I noticed for all facing inwards. Stop at a kitchen utensils store and purchase a stainless steel bowl for our salad, 25rup - less than one dollar.
On past the bag merchants to the side of the market and the sugar cane juice sellers whose carts have an old style hand driven wringer or roller attachment many with bells to attract passing trade. The sugar cane in run through the wringer then gradually folded back upon itself to milk as much juice as possible from the stalk. The juice trickles down sometimes over chunks of ice into an awaiting jug and then is poured into glasses sitting in glass holders on the front of the cart. Pre soft drink days. Unfortunately due to the uncertainty of the source of the ice we have not tried and so I am uncertain as to price per glass, but given that soft drink is 15rup (mrp) per small bottle it would have to be cheaper.
Just behind the juice carts spot some young green coconuts still on their stalks. Decide to grab one which is sliced open on the spot to try the juice. 10rup but the juice is not as sweet as I remembered. Soph has the pleasure for the rest of the morning walking around bearing a massive green coconut. Still between it and the watermelon we garner a little street cred so it is not all bad. Back to the hotel where we have fruit salad using our little paring knife and catch movie on cable before heading back out.
On the bridge say hi to a middle aged American who asks if we have a sec. We should have switched on at that stage but didn't and so said yes. He proceeded to pull out homestyle pics of exceedingly gruesome surgery that he had performed to remove large growths and legions. In doing so locals also stopped, the way that they do, to also check out the photos which he had no qualms in showing. He then pulled out a colour brochure which also had graphic photos on it and identified his work as being connected to an evangelical church. He had been he said operating here in Siliguri for the past seven years. The brochure however identified that the growths and the illnesses were the result of following false gods. One picture showing the removal of a leg effected with elephantiasis had next to it the cause of the illness as being the mans worship of the god Ganesh.
Initially impressed with the mans dedication to the poor and medically in need our disposition changed rapidly on reading his propaganda. Although Christian by birth and aware of the requirement to spread the "good news" the method of partial truths and perception we both found to be exceedingly distateful especially being communicated to the poorly educated people whom he would be exposed to. It left us feeling torn between our respect of indigenous culture and the desire for cost effective treatment for these horrible diseases which were a result of various causes many of which very human in cause and creation. We moved on without expressing our desired approval as a result of our perceived deception by a person we felt who should have been bound by higher ethical standards.
Further along the the road we passed several people with identifiable glaucoma, impressing upon us the desire to donate to the Fred Hollows Foundation an, as far as we are aware, non aligned non prejudiced vehicle for the support of local needy individuals. By whose very deeds are surely greater examples of charity and worldly support than a biased and marketed church based vehicle. I can understand the religious fervor that would simplify such a perception into base causes at their route or spiritual level but cannot condone it in a modern world especially having seen the examples of great charity and support evidenced under alternate spiritual vehicles.
Although again aware of the clause that their no alternate gate to heaven then by true belief in the Christian god, I, though maybe truly naive, would be far happier to be exposed to the potential of purgatory but to live what I perceive as an active good deed and action based life, attempting day by day to achieve a greater phase of human enlightenment than one of condemnation of another similar to that condoned during the european middle ages. The thought of such still brings tingles to my body and so I cannot otherwise justify my possibly simplistic judgment than by what feels true to my core. Maybe through further study of the major religions (christian, muslim, buddhist, hindu etc) I will, if granted the opportunity, alter my judgment, but as of today this is what I feel.
To break the mood we decide to catch a rickshaw to NJP (New Jalpaiguri) train station and nearby bazaar paying a rickshaw to take us what we believed to be a further km up the road. The journey turned out to be an exceeding complex series of back streets (with speed humps) and turns for a good half an hour of neck sweat raising effort on the behalf of our rickshaw peddler. A middle aged man of god humor, who after the first groan from the back ( emitted having bumped our heads on the pull over rain cover having crossing a speed bump at speed ) swerved all future road imperfections. 50 rup.
NJP was massive and like the other indian railway stations we had visited quite modern and relatively systemised. An army of rickshaws and tuk tuks, jeeps and vans were lined up out front only seconded by the street food vendors of Chats and Samosas. The Bazaar unfortunately was very quiet with many of the stores having pulled down their front roller doors and having gone home, leaving only the street cleaners.
Deciding to bail and get back into town we hailed a motorised rickshaw (tuk tuk) which we had all to ourselves. The driver spared no second in his attempt to brake all prior speed records getting us into town, as if he was a keen viewer of the Great (or is it Amazing?) Race shown on cable over here. It was great having the afternoon air swept into our faces as we swerved and beeped our way stopping completely only once we were back in at New Cart Rd.
Went looking for cyber cafes but the two we knew of were both closed for Sunday afternoon. (getting used to change over to Sunday as rest day versus Saturday in Nepal) Settled for dinner at Sartaj striking initially for it's ornately uniformed door man. Good Chinese/Asian apparently so went with the Chopsuey and Singapore noodles which definitely didn't disappoint, best since Old Lan Hua in Pokhara.
Back to the hotel and sounds of singing (surely they could find someone with a better voice) from a nearby temple recognising and mourning the passing of a very well known indian religious figure Sai Baba.
 |
| Siriguli, India. April 2011 |
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