May

The much dreaded April the 28th finally arrived so we decided to get up to watch the sunrise from our little beach to mark the dawn of a new era. We got up at 3 minutes to 5am, trying to time it perfectly for the moment the sun popped over the horizon but unfortunately due to lengthier than planned first wee of the day (Graham) we missed it. No matter really as we were still treated a beautiful show of oranges, yellows and pinks that against the looming rain clouds made for quite a dramatic skyline (images are in the Andamans/turning 30 album). We were joined by a young stray dog (one of many that hung around the resort and beach) who seemed happy for a bit of company and attention and curled up for a snooze at our feet. This was a picture-perfect, postcard moment and a lovely way to start the day until the dog started to drag its bum along the sand to relieve the itch of worms - not really in-line with the idyllic memory I was looking for so we took that as a cue to return to the bamboo hut.Now at this point a special mention and thank you must go out to the Milners who were super organised and thoughtful and sent out an 'Amy essentials birthday pack' 3 weeks in advance so I would have something to open on the day. Let me tell you, your foresight was spot on. After the sunrise, those rather dramatic rain clouds sitting just off-shore came sweeping in and for the first time since we arrived in India it rained. And then it rained some more and then it poured. It seemed that India was mourning the loss of my twenties which I felt was touching and fitting for the occasion and as I had two Grazias and the world's largest pack of Percy Pigs I was all set. I did at one point have to wrestle one of the Grazias off Graham as it turns out he loves a celebrity story as much as the rest of us although he would never admit it. The fashion sections fanned the flames of the old shopping obsession and I am pleased to say that there was an amazing shop that not only sold beautiful dresses and necklaces it also had 3 cheeky pet cats. I went nuts and pretty much visited it everyday for the rest of the trip - Graham blames you, Adam and Charlotte.

And then I was thirty. After much consultation with Graham I decided to try and get my open water diving qualification so that we could go diving together on our last day. My instructor, Eric, was from Helensburgh (where I was first brought up) and was a proper miserable, complaining, dour Scot - suffice to say I liked him. That together with the fact that it continued to rain for the next couple of days, it felt like I was home. We talked Greggs cheese savouries and sausage rolls, the Loch Fyne fish restaurant (spot a theme) and just generally stuff about Scotland. Not to toot my own horn but apparently I was his best student and the most natural diver he had taught which I have not let Graham forget. Clearly I was also a pretty good actor as well, as I spent most of the time diving wrestling with the desire to freak out and swim up to the surface - especially when I had to take my mask off 18m underwater in a current. When Graham joined us on the last day of my course, it was a beautiful day and we got to see some great fish: little tiny baby nemo clown fish, 3 octopus one of which was out of its hole fighting with a Grouper, Angel fish, Lion fish and some very rare, very weird white seahorse thing that looked like a bit of coral. It was a lovely day that was topped off with a trip to the expensive hotel on the other side of the island (the only place that sold alcohol) for delicious cocktails and a tasty dinner. There are two final things I want to mention about the Andamans before I move on. Firstly, 'the pleasure mobile'. Our little scooter that we originally only rented for a day and ended up keeping for the whole week was one of our favourite things on the island. We bombed about the island (well sort of, our top speed I think was 40kms per hour and that was a rarity) exploring the villages, picking up supplies (Pringles, rum, new dresses for me) and finding places to eat.

Next stop Darjeeling but not before quick 12 hour overnight train and a 2 hour jeep journey. The train journey was relatively uneventful. We had the usual candidates in our group of beds, the asshole who did as he pleased when he pleased (including trumpet farts and taking up three spaces for himself and his brief case), the snorer who when awake snorted and cleared his nose/throat every thirty seconds and the noisy family that basically sat on top of us and spoke very loudly. Apparently there was another member to our happy group that Graham did not point out until after we left the train. It turns out that pretty much as soon as we sat down a rat ran across my foot which luckily as I was wearing trainers rather than flip

flops I failed to notice. You may also at this point want to visit the updated loo log - let's just say 12 hours on a packed train makes for a less than fresh toilet experience. In fact sticking your head over the sink filled with moth balls was a far more preferable smell to the other choice on offer. Hey ho, all part of the 'traveller experience' helping me to grow as a person and a necessary evil before a three hour jeep journey. Now when it comes to Jeep travel (the fastest way to get to Darjeeling) there are a few things that the Lonely Planet guidebook fails to tell you:

1.A shared jeep means 12 people (13 on some journeys with a guy hanging off the back or on the roof) 4 people to a row. It is like playing a travel version of sardines but without the ability to run and hide.

2.It is a perfectly acceptable to pass the time with a full exploration and excavation of each and every orifice of your body with a particular focus on the nose.

3.It is the driver's prerogative to fart the entire way, gassing those poor souls sat behind him in the tightly packed tin can of a car.

4.There is always room for one more.

5. Playing music out of your phone full blast so the rest of the passengers have to endure it is perfectly acceptable. If then you decide to put headphones in, loudly singing along is also absolutely ok. This behaviour on a London bus would be considered rude and even intimidating but not here.

6.The drivers are perfectly in their right to play music so loud it will destroy your ear drums. Usual travel soundtrack includes India's version of country and western, the teenage musings of Justin Beiber, Blue, Enrique, the Black Eyed Peas and other tepid R&B/Hip hop tracks.

7.The roads are only roads in the loosest sense of the word and this single track edged with sheer drops of certain death is apparently, perfectly wide enough to overtake and pass other jeeps/trucks at speed.

8.Avoid at all costs the trucks emblazoned with 'Jesus - Pray for us' stickers.
So the jeep journey from NJP took us from sea level to 2300m in just over 2 hours. From that you can probably guess that there are a few chicanes, some pretty steep climbs and regular hairy moments. The pot holes, lumps, bumps and general missing sections of solid road ensured that we got to know our fellow passengers rather well. But the views were worth it as we entered into a part of India so different to what we have experienced so far.

Darjeeling = tea. Oh yes, proper tea and it was one of the greatest moments so far but we had to work for it. After we were plopped in the centre of the hustle and bustle of the town's bazaar we had to pick up our needlessly heavy bags and set off up some pretty steep roads on foot to eventually find our guesthouse. It took some time, a few arguments and a lot of heavy breathing but we got there in the end. Darjeeling is perched precariously on the ridge of a mountain in amongst a sea of other mountains and if and when the clouds clear it is truly spectacular. The moment we threw down our bags and flopped down in our room we were presented with a tray of freshly brewed tea to be enjoyed from our mountain-view balcony. And

that was only the first of many pots of tea. Darjeeling is easily one of our favourite places so far. The people are very relaxed, friendly and don't hassle you, the views round every corner are breathtaking. The food everywhere is tasty and there are a million treasure shops filled with all sorts of beads and bits of silver (Graham kept a very close eye on me). All-in-all a must visit place. We also indulged in a little colonial extravagance and had a few pink gins in the fancy pants hotel, The Elgin. We chose pink gin as it was the cheapest cocktail on the menu which we soon became aware was due to the fact it was straight gin with a dash of Angostura Bitters. After the initial twitch and burn of the first sip they slipped over rather easily and with endless free peanuts we could have stayed there all night but there was food to eat and a 10pm guesthouse curfew to meet so we staggered off in search of momos and noodles. But wait, what about the head lice I hear you cry? So it turns out I only had 6 lice and a couple of eggs on my head (daily nit combing since continues to confirm this). The two theories are they didn't like my hair but it got so crowded in Graham's barnett that a few jumped ship for a quieter location or I had nits, went diving and the pressure got to them which pretty much wiped them out. Either way there were some, not many, but some so I shall be maintaining a strict nit checking regime for the next month. Graham on the other hand, unearthed an entire civilisation of the little bastards. Needless to say he is also on the strict nit removal regime for the next month.

But I am skipping all over the place. Apologies but I did say there was a lot to tell. One of the many selling points of Darjeeling is its view over to the snow covered peaks of 3rd highest mountain in the world Kangchenjunga. We managed to catch a glimpse of it for literally 30 seconds before it disappeared into the clouds again almost missing it due to the distraction of a local dancing extravaganza in the park. You could easily end up never leaving Darjeeling, spending days strolling round the zig zagging lanes, drinking tea, admiring the views and sipping evening gins and believe me it was a lengthy debate about whether to push onto Sikkim or stay put. We decided to venture on and see what sights Sikkim had to offer. There are two final points I want to make about Darjeeling. Firstly, duvets. For the first time in 3 and ½ months we had duvets, super heavy, super warm and one each so no arguing over who had more coverage. Secondly, there was one cocktail that we ran out of time to try (also as our drinking tolerance is about 2 straight gins; anymore than that we may have not made it back up the hill) but think it would have been a taste sensation of sorts: Mangwine. Simply white wine and mango juice. Not sure how they stumbled across this flavour combination but I am guessing Greg and John might have something to say about it. I fear that Liam may lament our missed opportunity but I promise if we see it again it will be first on my cocktail hit list.

At this point we are in Sikkim but only halfway to our chosen destination. Waiting by the next jeep were two young, dreadlocked, pierced German 'travellers' decked out in the usual ethno traveller wear. It became screamingly apparent that we had absolutely nothing in common with these people and any chat going forward would be horribly, horribly smelly for everyone involved. And so it was for the next two hours we were jammed into a car (I lost my left buttock to that journey) with both German and English early twenty something student travellers unable to escape from their rancid chat. After almost 4 weeks of exploring India and several forced polite 'how long have you been in India' chats, It is abundantly clear that Graham and I are not your typical 'I'm doing this to find myself' travellers. We don’t want to stay in flea pits just so we can say we paid 100 rupees (£1.50 ish) for our bed, if we can afford to travel in a/c class on the trains then we will, and if we can avoid being rammed into a jeep with total twats then we will definitely pay a little bit extra. There seems to be a sort of 'we paid less to endure disgusting conditions to prove we are truer travellers than you' one up-man-ship which quite frankly we are too old for so it is a competition that I am happy to lose. Unfortunately as is the way with travelling, you tend to end up on a bit of a circuit which means you are constantly bumping into the people you hope you will never see again. Let's just say that if I see that dreadlocked 'i'm so at one with India' idiot again he may find himself with one of his crusty, elongated hairballs shoved down his throat.
And breathe. Sikkim, located at the very top of India is squeezed in between Nepal, Bhutan and Tibet and forms part of the eastern most edge of the Himalayas. The landscape is predominantly vertical and varies between mountain/valley/mountain/valley/waterfall/river/mountain/valley and is like nothing I have ever seen before. Each slope is peppered with little houses and small holdings perched above countless rows of ribbed terraces - it is truly magical. Life is pretty simple and peaceful and the people (Tibetan/Gurkha stock) are the friendliest and most laid back we have encountered so far (which is a little unnerving). As a tourist really all there is to do is trekking and a bit of sightseeing round the Buddhist Gompas and the like so that is what we have done around a place called Yuksom.