Before I get on to the great time in Gangtok, I should fill in the details on Monday morning in Siliguri.  I am back in the town as I write this, the net connections in Gangtok being unusably slow. 

As I mentioned, earlier, the train ride was interesting and as exciting as I had imagined it would be.

Arriving in Siligiri, I was confronted by a legion of touts, all trying to sell me the lowest price ride to Darjeeling.   I took a cab to the Sikkim Tourism Office to get my permit.  I arrived at 7:45 and the office didn't open until 10:00, so I took a cycle-rickshaw up the street to Net-N-Net, the internet joint I am writing from now.   I checked emails, wrote the post about the geologists on the train and then go some more passport photos.   Back to the Sikkim office at 10, the man ad the desk handed me a form and told me to have a seat.  When I gave him the completed form he said "OK, if my boss comes in then we can get this approved".   Focusing on the "if" in the sentence, I sat down to wait.  About 45 minutes later the boss man arrived, and 20 minutes later, after he had checked the newspapers and chatted about several stories with the man at the desk, he signed my forms.

I then remembered that I was supposed to buy my train ticket to Chennai at the NJP station but had forgotten to.  Instead of going all the way back to NJP, I took a cycle-rickshaw to a junction station nearby, they in turn sent me downtown to a place called "Central Booking", which sounds a lot like where the criminals are taken.  

This is where the "fun" began.  I had told myself before coming to India that I would need "infinite patience" to survive without going crazy.  Because of this, I would occaisionally think to myself "Infinite Patience" when stuck waiting.   At Central Booking there are three lines, one for Enquiry, two more for Purchase.   You are supposed to stand in line and see if your train is available in the Enquiry line, then get in line to purchase it.   I decided to skip the enquiry line and just risk it.   I really wanted to get up to Gangtok before dark, and time was running out.

An hour later, the number of people ahead of me in line had increased from 14 to over 20.  It seems the "queue system" works something like this:  Imagine a set of 20 cm sqauares, lined up approaching the window.  You stand on one square, and move up when you can.  If someone doesn't move fast enough, then a square in front of them is open.   If you are taller, angrier or are chewing something that needs to be spit out, then you can leave the line, go to the cafeteria and come back a couple of hours later and claim your spot.   If you are in the enquiry line, then just take 4 steps to your right, and if nobody shouts at you, then you are next in line to buy your ticket.  

I enter this system and use my 50 pound backpack as a block, to keep the people in front of me from backing up when people come to claim their place in line.  I figure that my only hope is to get close enough to the window to reach out and grab the little opening and hold on.

Half way up the line, I am told that I need a form, and that I have to stay in the Enquiry line to get one.  I have learned enough after an hour to put my pack on and charge the front of the enquiry line.  I wait patiently for the woman behind the window to acknowledge me, but after about 5 minutes I just reach into the little opening, across the woman and grab a form.  It really helps to have long arms.

Back to the purchase line, 3 people have taken my place and insist that I have to go to the end.  The last man in line spent the next 45 minutes with my pack pushing against his legs.

After much pushing, and shouting among the people ahead of me in line, I get to the counter.  The agent says that I have to provide my address in India.   I now live at JA-1, Kolkata, 700-098.  While I made that up, the guy behind me squeezes in and purchases his ticket.  I let that go because 30 minutes earlier, in a bit of frustration, I spun around and accidentaly clobbered the poor fellow in the jaw with my elbow.   Another person tried to purchase his ticket while I found the correct change, but he was met with a loud "BACK OFF", which he seemed to understand.  Throughout this ordeal my "Infinite Patience" was replaced with "SERENITY NOW" and I had 2 hours to very strongly consider a 2 week vacation in Singapore or Australia.

After purchasing the ticket, I went upstairs, pretty mad at having spent 2 hours on something that should have taken 20 minutes.  I needed to get a refund on the ticket that Jyoti had purchased for me.  It was the wrong ticket because I did not want to come back to Kolkata after visiting Orissa.   There were three people in line, pretty manageable, but I wondered what all the men were doing just sitting around this office.  As I got in line, one of them told me that all of the men were in line.   I said "Oh, to hell with this!" a little bit too loud and turned to leave.  Several of the men jumped up and said "India is our country, you are our guest, please go next in line."  I felt really stupid at having lost my cool, but took them up on it, my faith in India restored.

When I got down to the taxi a few minutes later, I noticed that the 50 rupees worth of magazines that I had stuck in the pocket of my pack were missing.  Oh well.

Coming back to the jeep stand, I had to wait 45 more minutes for the jeep to fill up, then off I went to Gangtok.

Along the way I took a couple of pictures:

This girl was waiting at the Sikkim Tourism office for the bus to Gangtok, her mother was nearby.

Later, while waiting for the jeep to fill up, I was playing the magic trick where I pull 1 rupee coins out of this girls ears.  Her mother was begging, but she wasn't, so a loophole in the no money to beggars rule.

Women on the street of Siliguri. After leaving Central Booking, I was walking up the main street looking for a cab.  Even with my pack on, I was the fastest person on the street.  I ended up walking 500+ meters until traffic caught up with me an I hopped on to a cycle-rickshaw.

Life in Siliguri moves at a very relaxed pace.

The jeep, at the first stop.

Highway truck stop, India style.

The jeep was packed, but I had it better than this guy.  I am 90% certain that I passed this same guy on the way down from Gangtok, looks like he never gets a seat inside.