Hilma & Maria

After a short layover in Darjeeling, it was time to continue north into Sikkim, India’s tiny Himalayan state of a half million people that, until 1975, was ruled as an independent kingdom. A special permit is required to visit Sikkim, simply meaning that bureaucrats in three separate offices must handwrite your visa particulars into thick logbooks, the archives of which teeter behind them in tall, dusty stacks. Weaving down the steep mountain ridge north of Darjeeling was a laborious three hours of successive hairpin turns and exposed stunning scenery of the surrounding tea estates and hillside villages.

The ideal way to travel in this area is by hiring a Tata Sumo (India’s replica of the Jeep), and we were fortunate to meet an Estonian couple headed the same direction to share the expense. The first jeep would only take us as far as Jorethang (~3 hrs), so we had to arrange another vehicle for the second leg up to Pelling (~2 hrs). Sharing private transportation with random travelers, while cost effective, introduces an unwelcome element of disorder. I’ve found my travel style to lie on the conservative end of the spectrum, while many other travelers seem to take a less calculated approach to defensive posturing. Simply put, I strive to maintain control over the situations I get into, and the Estonian couple compromised such an approach.

Hilma was the moderating force in their relationship and would calmly temper Maria’s fiery nature. The carefree timetable that Lizzie and I employed was an early source of anxiety, and Maria was beginning to brew as we sat and enjoyed a late lunch in Jorethang. After lunch, following three failed attempts to organize a jeep to Pelling, we pursued our only alternative, a conventional van taxi. I made it very clear at the outset that I had no intention of paying any money until we had reached our destination.

On the outskirts of town, just short of heading into the hills, the driver pulled into a petrol station and demanded 600 rupees to fill his tank. While this was a textbook scenario, Maria went too far in principal, getting into the driver’s face and ranting “Where’s my guarantee??! Where’s my guarantee that you’ll get me to Pelling?!” The driver, offended by our distrust, retracted, suggesting that we organize another ride. In turn, Maria grew irate, then she stormed off down the road with Hilma trailing behind. This of course left us with little to do, for we had now tarnished our credibility at both the jeep and taxi parks. In this small town, word would travel fast of four hostile Westerners seeking a ride to Pelling.

To our good fortune, a lone taxi was pulled over down the road from the petrol station helping a broken down truck. Unaware of our fermenting reputation in town, he was easily swayed by a generous offer and off we went to Pelling at last. After taking a few minutes to collect herself, Maria offered, “Sorry about that, guys, I just can’t stand stupidity in such high concentrations.”