Kalimpong meets

FC

That morning when came to the dining room for breakfast I found Nele chatting with a man, clearly a French one. In a very striking detail he was explaining how to make it to this and that gompa (monastery) around and why one or another destination was worth it. Nele briefed me that he comes to India every year. He was talking with the excitement of a keen traveler and the knowledge of a mature one. A few minutes later a couple came down and joined us – they appeared to be French too. He switched to French, they three engaged in a conversation. Even with my non-existent knowledge of the language I could make out the thread of the discussion. Again, he was passionately taking about the places to see up north as the couple was heading there; it was not their first time in India either, so they talked about the changes India had undergone. I am not sure if it was the language that allows such expressiveness, culture that favors one or the more mature age that changes the perspective of the observations…. however the conversation they had was so different from what you can imagine in an international backpackers environment. Instead of close-to-indifferent “oh, it was nice, ya, it was nice…” they were like “Oh my God, it was so great, so amazing, you should go there!” I enjoyed so much to listen to the people so emotionally involved with their traveling and so passionately sharing about their experiences – and the French made it sound so great, so refined…

Tea one


We were walking around the complicated network of the tiny passages between the houses densely covering the hill – finding women outside sorting out rice for the next meal, washing clothes or kitchen utensils. Almost at the main upper road we got a call from a young man standing on the balcony of a big house. He was inviting us to come up so we could enjoy the views from the balcony. We accepted the invitation so easily without thinking twice – a liberty totally unthinkable in any other region of India. But the great views we had a very nice chat with him and his friend: Nele and me were happy to ask the questions we had accumulated from the extensive observations around and they had answers ready for many of those. One boy appeared to be a Tibetan descendant and the other one was Nepali – they were childhood friends living in Kalimpong for ages. We were treated to some impressively tasty black tea with ginger and invited inside. We got to meet a sister of the Nepali guy: she was a self-taught painter. This is how a got a painting of a beautiful Nepali girl.

Tea two

In the evening we stopped by a dhaba for some tea and sweets. We got approached by a guy who looked like a major annoyance in the beginning, I should admit. Yet, word by word, he turned out to be a good fun. We kept chatting and having tea on the house.

He explained us the reason for his excitement.

-We in India like foreigners.
-Why?
-When we see you people we feel happy?
-Oh, why is that?
-See, you come here and see how we live. We cannot come to your country and see your culture. So, when we see you people here we feel happy.

And he did – we talked about him, his brother leaving in the States, us etc. He tried to guess wherefrom we were coming (he said Nele was from Russia, she protested – I burst in laugh, “Who would believe you girl, I even can say “Da, khorosho”), so we talked about Russia, Belgium and Spain (Nele is Belgian, but she is living in Barcelona).

After all he was giving us advices as of what to do in Kalimpong and Nele took out her Lonely Planet to check out. He took the book and started going through it.

-Acha, where do you get this book? - murmuring the names of the places put in bold in the chapter “Kalimpong” he was so astonished that his town is here, in this fat book called “India”, and even a map with some small details is given too.

We parted ways like ultimate friends

-If any problem in Kalimpong, come here and I’ll help you.

No one took any money from us for the tea and the sweets we came for.