From the Road: Part One

Though I type this from Krishna Palace, our lovely heritage hotel in Jaipur, I back track a bit to give you a glimpse of what Joey and I have seen in the past week. Photos will, eventually, help me order our adventures and articulate more of what we have seen.

I write this from a train -- another ride that will blend into my fuzzy but fond collective memory of train rides in South Asia. So many landscapes sliding past my dingy windows -- patchworks of brown, green and greener; fields of monotonous herbs, crops, bramble. This train ride is warmer than the last, but I'm still grateful for the wool shawl-blanket I bought as a gift (and am keeping for myself) from the Tibetan Refugee Self Help Centre at the bottom of a valley village in Darjeeling. To place name drop. My mouth is warmed -- tongue burned -- by the ubiquitous "chai chai coffee" I gulped down before tasting which one my five rupees bought. Louder than the friend of a friend's mix on my ipod (Coco Rosie at the moment, I think) I hear antsy kids and quietly laughing families; men in business clothes; the "chai chai coffee" man making his rounds again. The train shimmies side to side and rumbles forward; I'm not sure if I hear this or feel this. A few blue pleather seats away, Joey catches uneven sleep between abrupt station stops and chai calls.

I dare to offer fragmented memories from our first two stops:

Kolkata. I fell in love with this place after walking about four blocks. Crumbling colonial buildings set a beautiful, but simultaneously tragic, backdrop for the citylife moving quickly, moving on.

Our day in the bustling but cleaner-than-expected city began with roadside hot breakfast. Puri with potato, followed by a tiny terracotta vat of chai tea -- extra satisfying because you smash the thin pot on the street after the last drop of good. Nicolette, Joey and I were joined by our gracious host and friend Kari, who impressed us with her Bengali bartering language skills. We first visited Mother Teresa's home, her granite tomb simple and adorned by yellow mums spelling "I Thirst." We then ventured on to visit a couple inspiring NGO's teaching women "in the trade" alternative means of income and empowering them to seek a different lifestyle ("the trade" referring to women caught in sex trafficking or prostitution). Our full day (majorly skimmed here) was topped off with a wild rummage through humongous bags of colorful, secondhand sarees. I restrained myself and only bought seven -- to repurpose as amazing quilts or amazing whoknowswhats. One day was not enough; I'll be back.

We rushed to our overbooked overnight train ride. Nicolette and I shared a berth and my sleeping bag and were actually grateful for the forced togetherness and extra body heat; Joey lucked out when a bunk opened up after an hour or two and he left his aimiable elderly Indian man/almost bedmate. After a chilly ride north, we haggled for a seat in a jeep -- four to a bench seat (including three sharing the seat -- singular -- next to the driver of the stick shift small sized SUV). We jolted and bolted around harrowing curves and wall-less, shoulder-less bridges over deepening valleys. And, after about 7000 feet of all that, we reached our next destination.

Darjeeling. Amazing. (Really.) And it wasn't just the steady ground beneath our feet that sloped into the commanding foothills of the Himalayas.

Nicolette, Joey and I were there for only three days, but we quickly ran out of adjectives. Charming heritage hotel -- our first night's treat. Breathtaking sunrise over the Indo-Chinese border of Himalayas, viewed atop Tiger Hill. Brilliant sunrays dramatically illuminating Mount Kanchengjanga, the third highest peak in the whole wide world. Quaint cobblestone streets. Traditional grandmothers in layers of saree, sweater and shawl, walking together in the early morning with smiles and prayer beads. Trendy teenagers in skinny jeans and hipster scarves walking the same streets with each other and cell phones. Eclectic-ly potted plants and flowers spilling over brightly (but tastefully) painted terraces and rooftops. Aromatic tea in shops. Authentic tea in the home of one woman who has worked at Happy Valley Tea Estate her whole life. Ridiculously overpacked antiques at our favorite Tibetan art and handicraft shop (ok my favorite, not Joey's). Gorgeous mountains. Everywhere. Stunning valley views. Even adverbs aren't enough.

To all concerned family and friends: we are thriving and well. Joey is rocking his Adventure Pants and I am grateful for a hot shower at our current homestay. Today, monkeys ate peanuts straight out of our hands. Life is good. More updates sooner rather than later.