Travel to Gangtok

Oct 18, 2009

Down down down down, smoking brakes, squealing tires. Fortunately our driver is good; he wears a t-shirt that says "I'm Professional". Dara and I sit facing each other in the back of his jeep, seats 11 and 12, with an excellent view of where we've been. We escaped the congestion of Darjeeling and the honking is a little less incessant, but just a little. Racing on the winding road reminds me of James Bond chase scenes. In this scene, we are being chased by an apparently evil mini-bus taxi. The following taxi weaves in and out of view. Slowly we pull away from the taxi, and eventually leave him in our dust and diesel exhaust. We are safe, in the hands of our professional. We overtake cars, jeeps, government trucks, as we zoom through vertical tea plantations. The road winds back on itself, at culminating in an honest-to-god corkscrew turn of over 540 degrees. At last we reach the bottom, where a huge glacial river flows by. We follow it for a while, marveling at the massive, Grand Canyon like white water.

We stop for a meal break just before sunset. Our driver disappears and we stand a little dazed in the middle of a tiny town. We eat veg momos and a noodle dish. We discover Frooti, a mango juice pack, and buy a second one because they taste so great. Our driver reappears and we load up. He honks until the last passenger hops in. We zoom off again. As we leave the town, darkness closes in. The small oil lamp lights of Diwalli are being lit and feel. Along the river, the air is heavy, damp and warm. Darkness closes in, the last light in the sky reflects on the river and I feel so fortunate to be having such an adventure with my sweetheart.