This morning we don our serious shoes as we want to do a bit of walking and explore the area. The map shows a park on the ridge above us so we make that the first objective. It is a pleasant morning and we follow a winding road up through the conifers. On the ridge at the top there is a car park full of taxis and a lot of young people posing for selfies. We walk further along to the park gates which are locked. There is a flower bed with a nice display of ornamental cabbages just inside. Rabbits must be thin on the ground up here. Speaking of small mammals the conifer trees are home to fast and agile squirrels, in quite large quantities. D spectacularly fails to get a photo, nor does he have much luck with the flocks of greenback tits that occupy the leafier trees. This is very much a Himalayan species so R is pleased with it.
We retrace our steps and take a road that contours around the south end of the ridge, overlooking various government buildings. When we regain the west side of the ridge there are more good views of Kanchenjunga. R is feeling a bit ropey, with a sore throat, so we decide to head down into the town and find a chemist. This time we descend an alternative set of steps, arriving at a different part of MG Marg. We soon spot a chemist who recommends a pack of throat lozenges. R asks if they contain a painkiller and he recommends paracetamol. A pack of superlarge tablets costs Rs 9. We are a bit dubious about his advice to "take as many as you need. 2, 4 or 6 at a time". It is still rather quiet on the street and we notice that several ATMs have their shutters down and one has a notice saying 'No Cash'. We come to a machine with a short queue and D decides to get some cash. It works fine and delivers a decent mixture of different sized notes. This is how panics start.
It is now warming up and the first lozenge has eased R's throat so we look for a cup of tea and find it in Sonny's Oasis Cafe, a pleasant enough place which has unknown cover versions of American 60's hits in the background. Good tea but the muffin was a bit ordinary. Sonny could do better. This end of town is home to the Lal Bazaar market which is listed as having local craft stalls. We descend yet more steps which lead at roof level to a large concrete building. The roof provides great views of the town and, once again, Kanchenjunga. There is a stage with a man reading out numbers and a lot of people sitting on plastic chairs doing something with pen and paper. It looks like they are playing bingo. They ARE playing bingo or, as it is known here, Tombala. We have not seen or heard of this anywhere during our previous trips but here there are at least a hundred people spending their Saturday morning in search of a full house.
We refuse to be tempted by the prospect of Rs 200 for a fully marked card and take the steps down into the market. Just where we enter are the craft stalls. The lady in the Tribes of India government stall is keen to practice her English, and extols the health benefits of green tea. We thank her and explain that we don't like the taste. The market layout is a bit labyrinthine but we eventually find the stairs down to the next level which is a bit busier. Most of the stalls here are selling modern clothing. There is an interesting approach to charging for the sanitary facilities here. Outside the gents a notice reads "Short Rs 3, Long Rs 5". How is this decided? A tape measure? A stop watch? Who adjudicates? The next floor down is nearly all footwear and clothing but there is a man with a very pungent dried fish counter. We are not talking salted cod here.
The last floor of retail is almost all fruit and veg with a few spice sellers. As usual there are all sorts of veg we do not recognise. The thin green stalk that has a catherine wheel top is one of them. This is a really good market. Indoors so it is shaded, no motorcycles and no pushy stallholders, just a few who say hello. Outside the temperature in the open sun has risen. The weather app says 22C but it feels much hotter to us. We walk up a much wider set of steps with shops either side. Not a two wheeler in sight. This has to be the answer. Build Indian markets on mountainsides. We explore a different way back to base. Another big plus for Gangtok is properly surfaced pavements, fenced off from the road to stop people parking on them, and with pedestrian bridges at key crossing points.
R is feeling ropey again so we head back to base and order tea. We are so enamoured of Gangtok that we book another night. We had thought of doing some touring in West Sikkim but our share jeep experience has put us off unnecessary road travel. We have opted instead for an extra night here and and the same in Darjeeling. Outside the guest house there are some really distinctive russet birds with black heads and long tails. We have a feeling that we have seen them before but cannot find them in the book. After a cup of tea in our room R has a snooze and D sorts out the revised admin before resting his eyes. We find a Birds of Sikkim that identifies the russet birds as Rufous Sibias, another species that is only found in the Himalayas.
R is feeling a little better by late afternoon and we risk a trip downtown. We have a beer on a balcony overlooking MG Marg. This end of the street is notably quieter than last night. We go online to see what Zomato, an Indian ratings site recommends foodwise. There are four listings - a bakery, a hot roll takeaway, a place with an absolutely abysmal rating and Chopsticks on MG Marg, which also gets an honourable mention in LP. This is an easy decision. The place is about half full and we try to pick a table where we can't see the TV which is showing Chelsea v Arsenal. There is a large mural featuring Confucious on one wall and Country & Western music on the sound system. The menu is an eclectic mix and we join in by ordering onion pakoras, chicken momos and veg pulao. Somewhere along the line a viciously hot sauce arrives which reduces R to tears but the food is good. They have a sign saying "No Cards Accepted". D thinks that we should report them to Mr Modi. R is feeling much better and we sing along to Roger Miller's King of the Road as we leave.
So how was 'short' and 'long' measured eventually ?
ReplyDeleteAm hoping you were kind enough to find out for reference to future visitors.
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