The lovely little hamlet of Dhortre where the cobbled trail heads to the base camps of Kanchenjunga and Everest.














From 47C in Delhi to 12C in Dhortre was quite a drop and I was under prepared having left my warm shawls in Delhi at the Potala hotel.The traditional Nepali kitchen was a delight and I'm thinking to emulate this at home! The terraced gardens, the welcoming people and the superb scenery all worked their spell. It is a place I'd really love to spend several months. Even winter!! Ranjit, Sonia, Ranjit's mom in a beautiful white sari, Sonia's parents and myself outside their house before I had to leave and begin my journey to Delhi to make the train trip to Deer Park on the opposite side of the Indian Himalaya.

On the way to Dhortrey in the Himalaya near Darjeeling we encountered many land slides but the worst was this one - the road had disappeared entirely! We went over enormous loose rocks and the drop was a long long way down. The next day there was a front end loader shifting the biggest rocks and the 4x4's were waiting nervously to cross an area we had traversed in far worse condition the day before...

Darjeeling, my daughter in law and the beautiful Kanchenjunga mountain

A family photograph in the living room Ranjit's mother's home, a photo of the shrine room and then, the view from the balcony of the boarding house of Darjeeling, the Toy Train chugging up to Batasia Loop and Ghoom all this and more lent a special poignancy to this trip. The wonderful clouds and the mist curling round the hills, and then, as I left to return to Delhi, the clouds parted for a few minutes and there was my beloved Kanchenjunga serenely towering over the clouds. Third highest mountain in the world she rules the eastern Himalaya by mystery and magic.

Darjeeling - the Hill Stations West Bengal

Ranjit and I flew to Bagdogra Airport from Delhi. From there we took a Mahindra four wheel drive up the mountain to Darjeeling. The monsoon was still bucketing down and we slithered and slipped our way up the back road to the Queen of Hill Stations. We stopped just past Batasia Loop and climbed up to Ranjit and Sonia's apartment. She is a small delicate, lovely girl who makes Ranjit look tall! I tower over her and felt very conscious of being a St Bernard amongst Toy Poodles! So here my little family is Ranjit and Sonia and the next day we were to meet the rest of my new family. Darjeeling was cool after the heat of Delhi and I slept well under the plush blanket on my bed. Ranjit's fears that I would be unable to cope with an Indian toilet were proved groundless - as I had told him countless times they would be. Strange how far removed others views of oneself are from those which we hold ourselves :-)

The chaos of Delhi buildings which look like the they washed up from the flood plains of the Yamuna and the organised hyper energy of the traffic, horns asking and answering questions as the drivers weave and veer from side to side of the road, often directly into the path of oncoming traffic. I always feel relaxed in Delhi traffic- it talks a code and makes frenetic sense if you really pay attention. But what would a taxi ride be without breaking down? Ranjit and I sit in the shade of a tree stared at by one and all. This is the first time I've realised I stand out in the crowd in India. I've always felt as invisible as at home before.....

I recently went to India for a month. Arriving in New Delhi, a city I love, I was met by Ranjit, our "adopted" son who had returned home to Darjeeling a few months earlier. We to a taxi amidst the heat and the bustle I remembered so well. Delhi in late summer was an experience of it's own, however. Coming from Cape Town in winter where the temperatures were easily 29C lower was a body shock! We headed for Manju Ka Tilla the Tibetan refugee colony on the far side of this sprawling city. The beautiful Sikh temple was always a welcome sign over the next weeks, heralding the imminent arrival at the hotel. The hotel was approached through the narrow, cluttered street, the Tibetan men sitting at their stalls in white vests and short trousers for the most part, the women mopping their faces.



































The bright burgundy interior of the excellent restaurant, the manic electric wiring, the proximity of the next hotel - so close one could almost touch it from the open window, the busy action on the street at night - It brought back memories of Dharamsala and Darjeeling and every Tibetan colony in between. I felt I had arrived in a place where everything seemed familiar and welcoming......