Gangtok, Sikkim

Last night I went out to eat for about the third night in a row with an older Englishman and younger Australian guy I met a few days ago. I've been enjoying eating some different foods as I'd been mainly eating the same stuff for days: Puri Sabji for breakfast (fried chapati's and stewed potatoes); Samosa Sabji for lunch (samosas are fried pastries full of vegetables and the sabji is often stewed potatoes and chickpeas); thali for dinner (thali's are complete meals including rice and 3-4 stewed vegetable/dahl toppings... dahl is lentil stew or broth depending on the preparation). Cheap and local and easy, but I was getting bored and I think protein deficient. So eating with Eric and Trent in some different places has been a treat. We went to Little Italy one night and I had what was really a decent pizza... something that can be hard to find in a country where cheese selection is often non-existant, and dough/bread often means chapati. So last night we had Chinese food, and tried to make a special order... some chilis added to the stir fry. Our first hurdle was when we asked for rice. The waiter said, "No, we don't have." Eric said, "You must have rice this is India!". "No." "Rice! Rice!" "Ohhhhh... rice... yes we have rice." Then Eric asked for some chile peppers to be added to a dish. "No, chicken vegetable does not come with chiles." "But you can add some chiles, can't you?" "Ok". The food comes and there are some strange looking bright red round things in it. I think maybe a tomato or some unique Indian vegetable. We taste them, and determine that they are cherries! We decide that the waiter heard "cherries" not "chiles". They must have thought we were so strange! Sometimes I wonder that we communicate anything. There is so much difference in accents and pronounciations.

Finding a good place to eat can be a cherished treasure. Eating local food is usually a good bet, but even still it varies. One Samosa Sabji comes with a vegetable broth/soup; another may come with a more hearty stew. The place I like to get my Puri Sabji comes with 4-6 large light puri's, and refills of stewed potato sabji... a good deal for about 20rs. One day they were out of Puri Sabji, so I got their vegetable chowmein: it was a tea saucer full for 18rs... not a very good deal. Western food, can be a real crap shoot (sometimes literally, because they don't know how to prepare it safely); pizza can be anything from a chapati with some sort of soft cheese to an airfilled dough with a more real cheese, to full blown woodfired oven cooked dough with sauce. Trent had Hawaiian pizza at a place that prides itself as a western style bakery the other night. He couldn't find the ham on the pizza, untill I pointed to a little piece of pinkish substance, and I don't think he ever found the pineapple that was supposed to be on it. The dough was full of air and sugar.

I try to eat local foods as much as possible, but usually find I prefer a little variety from time to time. We are so spoiled in the West. The locals here eat virtually the same thing everyday. Rice and rice and rice, and stewed vegetables and dahl. The vegetables are usually cooked to death. I can't really discern much difference in the spices.

Simple things can become so complicated.

A couple days ago, a couple of younger English guys showed up at the guesthouse. It's been raining everyday. Umbrellas are important here. Jerome's umbrella was broken already, only a few days old... so I took him to the umbrella repairman. I got mine about two weeks ago when I decided a rain coat or poncho just weren't so handy around town. I made the mistake of not trying it out myself when I bought it. From the start it would occassionally close itself. The metal tab that slides out of the shaft was sticky. It was also shaped to gradually so as to not form a good ledge for the sliding and holding mechanism to rest on. Within a week, it was no longer working. I tried to work on it myself a little; my local friend said there are "umbrella wallahs"... umbrella fixers. Sure enough, I remembered seeing men sitting on the side of the street with assortments of umbrella parts. So I sought one out. He held up a new catch to replace my old one. I thought this would mean disassembling the umbrella, but he merely slid the old one out through the slot, and inserted the new one. Less than five minutes. He charged me the tourist price of 25 rs. I imagine locals pay half that. I wondered why the umbrella manufacturer couldn't have just made a decent product to begin with. But this is typical of India. There are so many people here, so many customers, that quality doesn't matter. Someone will buy whatever you make. And labor is so cheap, that most anything will have a repairperson.

It can be frustrating. A few weeks ago I bought a manual pencil sharpener. It was only 3 rs (about 0.10 US$), but it didn't work. The pencil was rather flaky for that matter. Last week I went in search of some glue to afix photos to thicker paper in an attempt to make postcards myself. Finding a suitable glue was an ordeal. I told the first shop what I wanted, and they gave me some glue they said would work. It didn't. The paper peeled right off of the photo... it might have worked in a photo album, but not for going through the postal service. Then I tried to find "Fabquick" suggested by a local friend, and I ended up with super glue. It worked, but was difficult to work with and expensive. I went to a couple of shops and they tried to sell me a glue stick, which I just didn't trust to be permanent. So I gave up and bought envelopes... not wanting to spend more money on glue that didn't work. Everything takes longer and has more complications than you think here. Communication is probably the biggest factor besides it just being a different culture and world here.

I often go to the View Point... about a 10 minute walk from the guesthouse, its a relatively quiet pathway around the side of the hill that Gangtok sits on. From it, there is a nice view of the valley and river below, as well as surrounding hills. That is there is a view when it is not cloudy, which is rare this time of year. Many days, you just see the white of the clouds rolling by. The first day I went, I me a husband, wife, and their little girl selling peanuts, popcorn, and some snack I can't remember the name of made with dried noodle, fresh herbs and onions and peppers chopped in.... and then tea. One day the girl was practicing her ABC's. They are the sweetest family... always with broad, genuine smiles for me. Often when I walk the main street here after dinner (it is closed to cars after 6pm), I hear a "Hello" and see the man or his wife smiling at me. They speak about as much English as I speak Nepali and Hindi, so we can't communicate much. But I cherish seeing them. It can be relatively rare to find genuine, beaming smiles of friendship here. So often relationships are based on needs and expectations. And so often people are caught up in their own world... I know I often am. And I appreciate that they take me as they get me... sometimes I buy some snacks from them... sometimes I don't... there is never any pressure. They obviously trust their abundance.