Departure time...

We planned a quiet departure from Pedong; a 06:30 jeep should have allowed us to slip away with little fuss. But of course Suchita insisted tearfully that she couldn't let us go without breakfast, and the word soon got around. The young lads, some of whom were still in their night shirts, took our bags like willing Sherpas, and strode ahead to organise our tickets. Suchita, our Indian mother and truly great friend with whom we've shared daily jokes and mealtimes, was in pieces. Little tears rolled down her cheeks as I assured her we'd meet again.

Once again tears pricked the backs of our eyes as an entourage of children held our hands as they and the adults escorted us up the street towards the jeep stand for the last time.

Pooja, Sonia and several of the little lads from class 2 thrust yet more thank you letters into our hands, each uttering a final plea for us to stay. And Sunod-sir, the night owl who can't stand early mornings, found himself waving goodbye as the jeep pulled away just before 7am (remember, India time!).

As we wound our way up the familiar route out of Pedong, beneath the big spiders hanging in their webs (none of which did ever make it into our room!) there was one last surprise: Ashit was standing just outside his house and we were able to offer one last wave.

It was the perfect send-off and one we'll remember for a very long time.

Next stop Nepal...

23 Nov - Reflections...

I think I have referred to Mark Helyar's book 'Rising from the Dust' before. But there is the particular piece in it where he so beautifully describes the misdirection of Indian energy:

"If the amount of force that is spent on India were spent on a European nation, you would find it full of creative activities of various kinds. But, here, in India, it is like sending a current of electricity through a sleeping man: he suddenly starts up, begins jerking and throwing his arms and feet about, and then drops down again; he is not fully awake.

"So much creative potential, realised by the minority, lies dormant elsewhere: "that bucket is made for washing, so wash with it we will. That hose is intended to irrigate the fields. Combine the 2 to make a shower? Why would we want to do that?". Sri Aurobindo calls is 'thought phobia.'"

Insightful stuff, and perhaps pertinent on this, our last day at Kids' Castle in Pedong hidden in the Himalayas.

24 Nov - We're So Lucky

'Have you always wanted to be a teacher?'

'Not always, no, but I do now.'

This was music to our ears as we enjoyed our final evening at KCS in the presence of Parsuram and Anmol, our two star teachers. Wow. Two twenty-something charismatic best-friends who have discovered that wealth is often not material.

We met Anmol and Parsuram properly during our first weekend in Pedong back in September. During a walk to the best viewpoint above the town (had the cloud not laid our plans to waste, it is one of the rare spots where you can see 14 turns of the Teesta river down at 500m or so and Kanchenjunga at 8500m), Sarah and I enjoyed lovely conversations with the two of them: life in Pedong, families, teaching, and from Parsuram his understanding of soft skills from a career before he turned to eduction. The closeness of the two was apparent from the start, and tales of late night liquor sessions together after hard days at school, and glorious banter between them has been delightful to watch.

Both boys are 25. Anmol has an oriental face, and above it a neatly slicked back mane which wouldn't look out of place in Bugsy Malone. He's always smart, and gives an air of confidence and on first glance aloofness. But that's just a front. Behind it he's friendly, kind, and bright. He's been a further source of intrigue as we have seen him walking away from school in the evenings with one of the English teachers. Sadly, cultural etiquette means that we haven't managed to find out whether they're actually an item or not. But we were reassured when chatting to another of the teachers, Samrat, to find that all the other teachers had been asking the same question amongst themselves. Nothing like a bit of good gossip.

With frighteningly angular cheekbones, Parsuram is the geeky kid in the clothes that don't quite fit. All his clothes are too big for him, as if his Mum still believes there's room for growth. Perhaps his charming, but sadly silent on account of her not speaking a word of English, wife likes him to look a little bigger than he is. Both boys are typically slight and short. You'd mistake them for teenagers in the UK. But sparkly eyes echo his endearing enthusiasm and positive outlook. Even when Gautam has set him some impossible deadline for some impossibly important document which requires preparing on a computer, he remains cheerful and calm. He's unflappable. There was a lovely moment during Foundation Day when, as two of the boys singing on stage suffered an attack of nerves, Parsuram turned away from the audience at his seat in front of the PA system, and sang subtly into the microphone conveniently placed there to help them out. And that's just one example of his selfless attitude.

Together they're an inseparable team. And it is perhaps these two guys who have made the most progress during our time at KCS. Energetic, enthusiastic, and eager to learn themselves, we leave them knowing that the children are in the hands of a couple of people who are naturals in the classroom. Anmol has an ability to explain anything scientific with the most accurate chalk board drawings combined with the use of some of the more activity-based learning we have introduced him to. Parsuram just has a way with the kids which means they sit glued to his every word, and a mind that can spontaneously adapt to the situation. In his thank you card to me he very vociferous about my help in lesson planning with him, but more often than not it was his ideas that were more applicable and the ones we used. Brilliant. Gives us real hope.

So we found ourselves on our final night at KCS sitting in Gautam and Suchita's sitting room-cum-chambre with these two affable friends. A couple of beers (for us) and 'Honey Bees' (strong brandy for them!) later and it was so great to find that we were not talking to the stereotypical staid concept of Indians. When we mentioned Top Gear their eyes lit up - transpires it's just as popular in West Bengal as it is on Dave at home - and the conversation moved from there to g-suits, Topgun, and further still to missiles; from there religion was the catalyst for a dialogue which really opened up. I think that when put into a culture seemingly so different to one's own, the desire to find out more and to compare is always strong. In this case, though, what we found was that although we shared inquisitiveness about each other's homes, we also shared a lot more than that. A desire to do some good, to make a difference. As they effused about life, it was abundantly clear that they are so happy in the Himalayan hills. "We have heard of wifi, but we haven't used, we only have 2G, we are so behind out here. But it doesn't matter, we don't need it. We are very happy. We are so lucky, we have everything we could want here." What a refreshing outlook. They have each other, their families, and of course in that Indian way from which we could learn so much, they have that sense of community which I suspect would be very hard to recreate in the UK. And now they have a lovely means of directing that sense of wanting to help that community. We were left in no doubt that these two, thick-as-thieves, would be the ones to keep putting the effort in at school, despite whatever obstacles came their way, and importantly we have no doubt that they'll share it with us. We cannot tell you how much we look forward to that.

Pictures:

Anmol and Giles teach class 4 all about soil erosion. His dam model was the winner that lesson.

Weekend 1 walking with Parsuram.

Parsuram and Anmol listen as I attempt to help with some teacher training!

Parsuram goes alone with class 4 and measurement. An OFSTED standard delivery!

Both boys are really musical. Their guitar and keyboard playing brought the Foundation Day to life. Anmol told us that if the opportunity had existed when he was at school then he would have liked to have been a musician. But he has no regrets or indeed resentment.

On leaving we were presented by every single teacher and student a khodor (scarf). We couldn't take them all with us onward on our journey, but I am pretty sure we singled out those from Anmol and Parsuram to sneak into our bags.

It's not goodbye; just see you later...

Like the end of a good book, our leaving KCS saw every story strand beautifully rounded off, and if you like happy endings, there was one of those too.

The day began like every other with the usual assembly drill and 4 morning lessons. As the students got down to business, project coordinator and great friend, Santa, arrived to see just what had been achieved. First up class 3 unleashed their creative genius in illustrating their animal stories which had been written the day before. As a treat each child was given some goggly eyes (thank you Hobby Craft) which brought their masterpieces to life. Santa looked proudly at what was happening...

'Look at all these faces, they're so happy and engaged!'

It was the reaction we needed to confirm a job well done.

A school of engaged students is Santa's dream, and what he saw didn't disappoint. Class 2 were enjoying maths; piecing together dominoes and working out simple fractions. The nursery were being introduced to finger puppets, each bringing their characters to life with basic conversation. When I popped in to see Giles engaging the smallest students I couldn't help but notice the lack of trousers on the cheekiest of all, Abinesh. Upon closer inspection it was clear what had happened from the evidence all over the floor, but out here dry pants aren't catered for so he was happy enough playing with his pink elephant finger puppet naked from the waist down (I kid you not, if he'd had the grey mouse it wouldn't have been nearly so funny!).

By mid morning we began handing out small gifts to the younger students: pipe cleaners! Bendy and colourful, they sparked creativity, imagination and appreciation. Their little faces were an absolute picture, and what they made even more so. We had pretend glasses, rings, flowers and moustaches! I'm not sure they'll last longer than the weekend but their reaction to the novelty was priceless!

Class 3 actually received an extra gift, courtesy of Giles, in relation to their Christmas card-making frenzy of 2 days ago. Whilst I spent much of the previous evening planning lessons and arranging thank yous for one and all, Giles submerged himself in mission 'make the best Christmas card ever'. What he produced was a work of art, so much so that he whimpered 'do I really have to give it away' just before parting with it! The reaction, although inevitable, justified the effort: 'Sooooooo nice'! When Giles read the card's message out to the cheery faces, emotion finally engulfed him. As the wobble grew stronger he handed the reins to me just before any of the boys noticed; Giles' hero status was saved just in time!

Class 3 then became untameable, almost to the same level as when we first met them. That first day is still crystal clear in my mind; Giles exiting the classroom with beads of sweat pouring off his head, a chalk hand print on his bottom and uttering the words: "I'm never going in there again!" What a turn around! Although still hyperactive, the riot that ensued was out of adoration, and the handfuls of marigold confetti and letters of appreciation were simply overwhelming.

Overwhelmed too was Santa. Once the formalities of exit meetings and teacher briefings were complete, our stoic Nepali friend crumbled and threw his arms around us both. Giles, much like on our wedding day, did the same leaving me to shake the boys back into the moment! As little tears rolled down Santa's cheeks it was clear that this was just the beginning of what the next couple of hours had in store.

India really does thrive on celebrations and formalities, and so our hopes of a quiet exit were soon dashed. As the children gathered in the probably-never-to-be-finished school hall, plastic coated swivel chairs and a lectern were carefully positioned by the prefects. The children squeezed onto the tiny green benches and over 100 sets of fingers twitched around neatly tied posies and khodors (traditional ceremonial scarves). The most talented teacher of all, Parsuram, took our camera and began snapping as the thank-yous began. Sunod-sir, the deputy head, gave a touching speech, and teachers and students echoed his thanks through broad smiles and the Indian-typifying head wiggle. Then it was our turn, and our off-the-cuff plan worked brilliantly. We bounced off each other giving praise and recognition, and the students cheered in turn as we referred to each of their classes. In true Giles fashion the tears arrived just as we began summing up... Thank goodness we are a reliable double act! Once I'd rounded off our thanks the students were invited to make their presentations. Wow. It was as if the monsoon had returned, only this time it was raining khodors. Within a few minutes they were literally falling off our backs but the onslaught continued! It's nice to be appreciated but this really felt too kind.

The atmosphere was somewhere between celebratory and sombre, and as the occasion drew to a close I felt quite guilty at the number of puffy eyes that left the playground. Our parting English lesson was one of reassurance; we told them all that the words 'see you later' are far less final than 'goodbye', and this went a long way to raising spirits once again.

Armed with thank you letters galore we made our way back up to our room, and then it was my turn to crumble. Ashit, our little rebel-turned-angel, gave me a present, and on the label it read 'a toucan of my love for you'. Having been lucky enough to get to know Ashit properly we are only too aware of his circumstances, and yet he gave me the most beautiful scarf. Any teacher out there will know the importance of being equal, but in your heart of hearts the are always a couple of special ones who you never forget. If this is a taste of things to come then I had better toughen up a bit! As Giles wrapped his arms around me and banished any feelings of guilt for leaving, we reflected on what we have achieved over the last 10 weeks.

We came here to make a difference, and make a difference we did. Whilst our drive to create something sustainable was challenged soon into the project, we pressed 'reset', contented ourselves by helping the children themselves, and continued attacking the underlying systemic problems from a slightly different angle. Reflecting on 10 weeks, we realise that goals on every level have indeed been met. The kids had a great time, KCS is undergoing a management restructure to put the right people in charge, and there are initiatives to increase the number of volunteers in the pipeline and provide a more organised approach to assisting schools in North East India.

As of the next academic year starting in February, KCS is to be split into separate primary and secondary schools. The junior one will be lead by Sunod-sir and star teacher Omu-miss (Ashit's aunt). For those who are interested the whole story can be told when we are home, but in short this is an arrangement that we have helped to bring about, and it promises a financially viable and well managed lower school that is willing to work hard to transform into a modern teaching medium. The upper school's future is less certain, but that's another long story too complicated for a blog.

By the UK's standard KCS is miles away from providing an education deemed as satisfactory for all, but what's key is that we have got the ball rolling. Rome wasn't built in a day but look at what was built in the end. We were given hope earlier in the week when we visited some neighbouring schools. Both have applied for volunteers and both are very worthy candidates. Having depressed ourselves a number of times and banged our heads against imaginary brick walls, we thought that any kind of evolution in education would be impossible. However, Tuesday presented 2 passionate head teachers alongside their thriving schools, each aware of the need to teach by more stimulating means, and each eager to learn more. Long term, the vision that we have devised alongside Santa is to create a Future Sense Academy, where thriving schools who succeed in providing a good education become mentors for the more needy. It's a big goal but, hand on heart, I think it's possible.

What we really need out here are volunteers. The schools are crying out for people to make a difference, so perhaps the UK's National Curriculum objective of creating cultural awareness within schools might just fuel our other vision of a teacher exchange programme. All ideas are embryonic, but, as predicted, we are in too deep out here now and continue to provide support to the big ideas. Perhaps not frontline work as new careers beckon, but our time on the project is far from over.

If any of you fancy an adventure of a lifetime then do chat to us about our time in India; we both agree that it's the single most rewarding experience we have ever had.

Photos:

Little Abinesh... Nothing on his bottom half but he's still smiling!

Nursery enjoy finger puppets -thanks Sue for such a great idea.

Giles presents class 3 with a Christmas card 'Soooooooooo nice, Sir'. I don't think even he knew that he was so good at arts and crafts!

Class 3 with G&S

Giles receives a khodor from Prashant, his superstar from class 4. Sarah didn't get a hug cos the poor little chap was too emotional!

Ashit gives me the present that made me cry (and I'm wearing it as I type).

The class 6 girls, beautiful ladies who I'll miss so much. Lloydy, L-J, notice that the Princess stationery box is proudly displayed (even though it's empty!).. Thanks so much.

21 Nov - Ashit Part 2

Punam was like so many teenagers. A dislike of the discipline and structure imposed by school, an apathy for history and science, and an increasing attraction towards boys. It's a story that wouldn't stand out in Britain.

In 2002 she fell for a boy in a higher class. The boy promised the world, gave her a son, and married her before running away never to be seen again. In India, with no welfare support, and having failed to finish school this was a disaster. She was fortunate however, that despite her teenage indiscretion, her family had brought her up in the knowledge that they would love her whatever the circumstance, and had taught her responsibility.

Without hesitation, she left her child at 10 months old in the care of her sister, Omu, and parents, before heading to Mumbai to find some way, any way of supporting her child. Where some might have hidden in denial, she knew that she owed it to her son to give him the best possible chance not to make the same mistakes she did. Working initially as a scullery maid, and later in various jobs of servitude, she eventually met another man. Her judgement this time was more refined, and they married, happily, for love in Mumbai.

The two of them hold down good jobs, not sponging off the state in some plush government office, but working hard in private jobs to earn their keep. What she earns goes back to her family, to support her parents, and her son, Ashit.

9 weeks ago we met Ashit, and you may remember that for me he needed taming. And he's called A-shit! How 9 weeks has opened our eyes. A polite little boy, with a beautiful smile, intelligent gentility and just occasional bouts of over-enthusiasm which can be put down to his being 9 years old, male and inquisitive. He's still got an amusing name, but he's one of the stars. A couple of nights ago, as we enjoyed dinner at Omu-miss' house, he happily chatted away about Diwali and his mother, who he hasn't seen since October, and won't until the end of term in mid-December.

This isn't an unfamiliar tale in India; one of many children sent to school thousands of miles from their parents while the parents do everything they can to support them.

21 Nov - Christmas Cards

We've tried very hard to foster creativity in the children at Kids' Castle, to get them to think for themselves and use their imagination. And to a certain extent we have achieved. They still all repeat 'Hands Down' at the end of prayers, but we've seen some lovely examples both in and out of the classroom of them using their initiative. Brilliant.

Today marks 3 days to go until we make our departure from Kids' Castle. Time to step up the ante and really deliver some fun and useful lessons to the children.

For class three, a lesson in culture, art, and learning to share. How? By making them make Christmas cards. Nothing that can't be achieved with a bit of glue, pairs of scissors, and some coloured paper and a few crayons.

Chaos. Utter bedlam. Sharing and manners are somewhat lacking in Indian children, and you can picture the scene as Sarah and I had to regain control of the marauding looters of the shiniest paper and hoarders of glue... The concept of using the paper sparingly and starting cutting from the edge rather than the middle of a sheet of A3 to make a 1" star had to be explained more than once, and the constant cries of "Miss, cut for me", or "Sir, draw me Christmas tree" were incessant. Seriously, hats off to primary school teachers. To take this sort of thing on more than once must require some sort of energy mortgage!

But make the cards they did, and some of the results were simply lovely. Others perhaps were more along the lines of 'creative'! Watch this space to see who gets one.

You'd think that one session might be enough, but in fact Sarah's going to have another go tomorrow, and this time we're going to introduce glitter...

Pictures:

Aditya and Prashanti write thank you letters. If only they always looked this studious and engaged!

Danish making cards: all signed on the back "Made of Danish"!

Ashit and Pradim doing lovely work.

17 Nov - Driving School

Once you reach the heady age of 16 in India you can be let loose on the road... No training, no test, just some pretty severe consequences if you do mess it up.

We have seen the occasional insulating tape red L on cars, but this is the finest example yet of any sort of formal training. You'll be delighted to see that the tyres are down to the canvas... Only in India!

A big religious face-off

Once again Giles and I found ourselves lost for words today. Having agreed that the Yumthang Valley is probably one of the most spectacular places on Earth that either of us has ever visited, we were surprised to find yet more jaw-dropping sights in South Sikkim's Namchi.

Famed for the 2 huge religious statues, each standing at over 40 meters tall, the guidebook failed to prepare us for the view from each. Wow. The Kandchenjunga range remained crystal clear all day, providing a unique backdrop to some unique monuments.

Namchi sits on a ridge, and 5 km either side are 2 big peaks. Perched on the easternmost is a giant Buddhist guru, and on the western summit, a giant Siva. These are the biggest Buddhist and Hindu dedications in the world! Having found ourselves ensconced in a Buddhist household for the past 2 months we decided to embrace Hinduism for the afternoon.

A good hike got us to the top within an hour and there, standing before us, we found what can only be described as the result of when Hinduism met Disneyland!

We were as bemused as we were impressed, and spent a very happy hour wandering in and out of temples and shrines. But of course, awe-struck as ever, the mountains behind the towering greats were what really made the day. Beautiful.

16 Nov - Where Nature Is Still In Charge

Everywhere we have been on our trip North in Sikkim is on its second, or even third or fourth, bridge. There is perhaps no more stark reminder of the fragile permission which nature gives man to inhabit this planet, and indeed the resilience of man to make it work.

Up near Zero Point the cause of the destruction is clear, as the pile of tangled metal lies hidden beneath a mass of boulders brought down by the last surge of the river. But further down the valley, in Lachung, one forlorn concrete pillar is all that remains of the original suspension bridge which provided a line of communication between the 2 sides of the valley. 6.8 on the Richter scale last September put paid to that. Our guide, Benum, smiles ironically as I ask him whether the army-constructed replacement is temporary. I'm not sure whether his hint is with reference to the likelihood of nature taking charge again, or whether it is simply that the replacement works...

We left Chungthang and the new hydro project behind to arrive at Singhik and the most extraordinary view. What the clouds had obscured on our journey up, was resplendent in the midday sunshine. It was as if nature wanted to leave us with one final reminder of her authority before we returned to the civilised comfort of Gangtok. Looking all the way up a deep valley, and beyond, we were given the best view of Kanchenjunga and her sisters yet. Bearing in mind the visual feast of the days before, and the fact that we had already done this journey the other way, the treat was enhanced by its ability to once again leave us both speechless.

The rest of the journey back to Gangtok was bumpy, long, but otherwise uneventful. Having sat down all day, Sarah and I decided to unwind (physically quite literally!) with a run along Gangtok's pretty ridgeway and up to the Enchen Monastery. I think that the sight of two Westerners in running kit racing two young monks down the main avenue to the monastery past rows of prayer wheels will not be one the older residents forget for some time. The little boys running with us in flowing red cassocks clearly thought it was wonderful though.

Returning from the monastery's hill top position to our hotel, we watched the sun set above the hills to the West of Gangtok, and more importantly, turn a deep bronze against the pristine white peaks of our omnipresent overseer. As runs go, I think that we'll do well to better it.

15 Nov - Lachung to Zero Point

Zero point. It's something you might expect to find in a modern version of a Jules Vernes story. The destination and end of an epic journey and yet perhaps the start of something monumental.

'Zero point' for us today really wasn't far off the mark. From our starting point in Lachung, deep in North Sikkimese Himalaya, what the local guides call 'zero point' was our target for the day: the end of the road north towards Tibet at a quite literally breath-taking 16000 feet. You cannot go any further due to tensions at the Tibet-India border.

To get there requires no less than 3 permits and as many check points at the various army bases positioned along the route. The trip up there is an official tourist trail, but the fact that we had to put so much effort into getting there, so few people do it, and the mystery of what might lie beyond, made this much more of an adventure.

We set off, leaving civilisation behind us, and climbed hard. Benum, our guide, hadn't disappointed in his managing of our expectations the day before; it was only what seemed like a few minutes later that Sarah and I grinned at each other, harmoniously mouthed 'amazing', and took in the simply extraordinary scenery unfolding before us. After tree lined valleys, topped by jagged peaks, we ran into the first obstacle to really challenge both driver and jeep. A massive moraine field at 13000 feet, further disturbed by last year's quake, looked from the bottom to be impregnable. But the bulldozers had done a grand job; we bumped and eased our way around the worst up a winding track which took us into a wide Alpine wilderness. From the top of the mess of boulders we were treated to a magical view of the vast valley floor and its immense walls which climbed into snow capped giants. Down the middle the oh-so-blue river rushed downhill, while ahead lay a taste of the true Goliaths awaiting us further up. It was almost visual overload.

From this point we left the valley floor to climb up a surprisingly well maintained ribbon of asphalt draped in endless hairpin loops up the mountainside towards the tundra above. Either side now, granite, snow and elegant ice falls to keep us company as the oxygen got thinner. The views ahead and behind simply became more and more superlative until on rounding the final bend, with the Tibetan plateau in sight, we reached a shabby open area where a couple of ladies, wrapped in all the clothes they owned, sat brewing tea in the open air. The punctuation of the road ending was as abrupt as the name Zero Point might suggest; beyond, a track strewn with sump destroying boulders and ice. But the views... I'm not even going to try to put them into words. Enjoy the below, but believe me, these pictures don't even start to do it justice. Almost certainly the most stunning part of the planet we have seen to date, partly because of the scenes, but an awful lot because of the remoteness and secrecy which surrounds it.

14 Nov - North Sikkim Tour Day 1 - Evidence of an Earthquake

I was just lining up the torrent of superlatives for today's journey when Benum, our guide, turned back from his seat in the front of the jeep with a knowing smile: "Tomorrow is even better. You will see better views then."

Up to that point we had spent 3 hours driving through scenery north of Gangtok which I can only really describe as movie-set perfect. Jaw -dropping waterfalls, overhangs thousands of feet tall and below, the majestic Teesta river powerfully pushing south, a mix of turquoise purity and fierce white rapids.

Without a doubt the most spectacular journey by car in our lives to date. But I'll be good and not effuse too much in the knowledge that if I do then my bag of colourful language will be empty for what promises to be even more incredible tomorrow as we head up to the Yumthang valley, the Northernmost accessible point of north-east India.

Our route took us North from Sikkim's capital, Gangtok, through to a small village called Lachung, the final staging post before Yamchung. What we hadn't counted on were the stark reminders of the devastating earthquake that ripped through the region last September. 700 or so Nepalese and Indians, most of them workers constructing the massive hydroelectric dam at Chungthang, were killed as the quake topped out at 6.8 on the Richter scale. Sikkim is proud of its well maintained road network, so the countless hours today spent bouncing along the hastily bulldozed replacement tracks gave some idea of the scale. Either side of us, huge boulders, one of which still on top of the crushed lorry unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place at the time, and ugly scars where the land had dropped away. Several times we were held up as diggers piled rubble into trucks to be removed. When the quake struck, the village we are now at and further north were cut off for a month and a half.

As ever, the bridges, of which in landscape like this there are many, provided a source of concern and intrigue. At one point we spied the next precarious crossing of the Teesta in a deep forested valley. There was no doubt at all that it had long since ceased to be sound, and so it was a relief to find another paralleling it across. In fact there was a further more derelict one next to it, and yet another under construction. The engineering effort to span these huge valleys is immense, not to mention the infrastructure required to get the equipment and materials there in the first place.

But massive engineering challenges are not something that India is shy of. As we approached Chungthang, below is the simply vast project to turn the Teesta into the main power source for Sikkim. An entire temporary town, massive dam, and perhaps most impressive of all, a gaping tunnel into the eastern wall of the valley into which the entire river is now diverted to allow construction. It's a biblical achievement.

So, quite a day. The power is off, it's really cold, and we are exhausted from a entire day of intense visual treats. Who knows how we are going to feel after tomorrow?

Pictures:

Waterfalls, bridges and overhangs while the bulldozer continues to clear up the mess.

Is this India - Where are we?

Thought that we'd set you a challenge this evening. We have had the most extraordinary un-Indian day. Brilliant, not only as we are somewhere pretty special, but because it feels so unlike the India we have come to call home for the past 2 months that we really do feel like we are on holiday.

So - some clues:

The journey from Kalimpong was stunning. Running alongside the Teesta river, the road took us up gorges and through valleys where tropical appeared to meet jungle next to a boulder strewn torrent of what looked like crystal fresh water. Vibrant flowers and vivid greens assault our eyes. It's as beautiful a journey as we have done so far.

We arrived to the most extraordinary sight. I say that, but had it been the UK, then I might have thought that we were on Swansea high street or similar. A pedestrian zone, litter bins, modern shops, and so clean. It felt very awkward while at the same time so very familiar! So much so that we escaped into a distinctly western cafe for a hazelnut latte! The plot thickens.

It's Diwali, the next religious festival in the Indian calendar. So where we are, as lovely as it is, resembles somewhere between a flower shop and a war zone. Thousands of garlands of marigolds are displayed for sale to decorate houses much as we would put up Christmas decorations. At the noisier end of the spectrum, massive bangers on sale to tiny kids are set off constantly. Grown men grin like children as they light huge red sticks and throw them from their doorways into the street. I think Sarah has shell shock, while tinnitus is setting in for me. The effect is not unlike a night in Al Amarah in Iraq! The little buggers will very happily throw lit ones in your path for fun (no malice though!), and as it got dark they started their own version of Guy Fawkes night. I pity the poor chap being accused of being responsible for the M5 crash on bonfire night last year when you see the utter recklessness that takes place here. Catherine wheels, rockets, and Roman candles set off not in some cordoned area as you might expect, but instead in people's doorways. The ensuing dance as they try to escape the errant missiles is simply hilarious...

We're now in a lovely restaurant. The best so far on our trip in fact, which is matched by the prices. Some of the main courses are nearly £3! It's named after a common type of orange, and the hue on the walls is similar. On arrival I thought that perhaps we were entering a night club. Down five floors from the entrance, towards the sound of 'Offspring' rattling out one of their heavier tracks. We're sitting on the floor on cushions picking from a menu which ranges from bamboo shoots, fiddle head fernshoots and nettle cottage cheese through to fish and chips and creme caramel...

Most importantly we are relaxed and looking forward to the next few days off. We are heading somewhere pretty spectacular so watch this space for photos!

Now, where are the Wallies?

Pictures:

Marigolds everywhere outside the town's main market...

Coloured powders add to the lovely variety of colour here.

Sarah admires the first public litter bin and pedestrianised street (they actually adhere to this rule!) we have seen in 2 months...

Caption of the day...

Only in India. A worthy rival of DB Dikshit Road!