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Ron Gluckman
is an American reporter who is based in Hong Kong, but who
roams around Asia for a number of publications, including the
Asian Wall Street Journal, which ran this piece in August 1999.
Climbing the clouds to Sikkim
WE'RE SCALING SHEER RIDGES ABOVE THE
TIBETAN PLATEAU, darting in and out of clouds to
marvel at breathtaking Himalayan views. That is, when we dare
look up from a succession of hairpin switchbacks, each steeper
and sharper than the last, all with dizzying drops down both
sides of the razor-thin mountain track.
The northeastern Indian state of Sikkim, wedged in between
Bhutan, Tibet and Nepal, may be the most vertical place on the
planet. Landslides plague Sikkim's precarious roads, and that
means slow going for traffic - when there is traffic. My
traveling companion and I had already spent hours on a deserted
roadside - we had come upcountry for the night and had no choice
but to try and hitchhike onwards the next morning - when a road
engineer stopped his jeep to pick us up. For the next hour, we
bump and wiggle, snaking no more 12 kilometers. Suddenly, at a
sharp bend, we come to a halt at the sound of chanting. For
kilometers the countryside has shown no sign of habitation, but
here, on a grassy ledge at the edge of a vast gorge, a surreal
scene is staged. An old Buddhist monk intones prayers in a haze
of incense. Maroon-robed disciples bang drums, shake bells and
toss rice into the wind. Without a word of explanation,
the engineer steps from the jeep and soon is sipping tea and
sharing stories in a rapturous mix of Nepalese, Tibetan, Hindi
and hill dialects.
In Sikkim, surprise is more common than speed. Likewise
tradition, hospitality and ceremony, which seem to roam like
free spirits along the fabled "rooftop of the world."
Sikkim has long been classified with all the other mythical
Shangri-Las in this heavenly region. It certainly qualifies.
Sikkim's steep slopes are striped with rice terraces, tea
plantations or cardamom, the major crop. Temples and fairytale
towns are tacked onto the faces of sheer cliffs throughout a
craggy kingdom running up and down magnificent ridges. And the
people are as colorful a mix as the terrain: Nepalese, Tibetan,
Bhutanese, Hindi and numerous hill tribes. Here, near the top of
the world, visitors cannot help but feel special. Everest is
visible just beyond Sikkim's own Mount Khangchendzonga, a circus
tent of snow-capped peaks including the third highest in the
world. In the clear, mountain air, Tibet seems so close you can
smell the Yak butter tea. Bhutan is just miles away. But Sikkim
offers one thing its celebrated neighbors cannot: free and easy
access.
It hasn’t always been so. For centuries, this ancient kingdom
was locked up, an utter recluse. Even after joining India - its
25th anniversary was celebrated in May 1999, although statehood
actually started in 1975 - Sikkim remained a prime target of
travelers seeking the far corners of the planet. Sikkim
certainly fit the bill. Permits for foreigners were rarely
approved, and then only for a day or two. Beginning this year,
most of the state opened to tourism. Permits are still required,
but a 15-day entry pass is free for the asking. Yet, the word is
slowly circulating. Only 10,000 non-Indian visitors reach Sikkim
each year; ultra-exclusive Bhutan receives 6,200 foreign
tourists annually. But Bhutan is costly, with mandatory group
tours running to US$200 per day. In contrast, Sikkim is a
poor-man's Bhutan, offering untrammeled forests to trek and lots
of Tibetan temples. Backpackers boast of US$10-a-day budgets.
Accommodation is basic outside of the biggest towns, but a
little money sure stretches a long way here.
Sikkim is quite a contrast from the rest of India. The climate
can be chilly, but the people are friendly and the pace is
relaxing. When we started our journey in Calcutta, people were
dying in
a severe heatwave, but it was cool in Sikkim. After a
comfortable overnight train from Calcutta to
Siliguri, the nearest rail station, we hired a jeep for the
three-hour climb, almost 90-degrees straight up, to the state
capital of Gangtok. India's second smallest state not much
bigger than America's Rhode Island, or the island of Bali. But
that's a flat measure; Sikkim is anything but. You'd be
hard-pressed to find a square meter of level ground within
Sikkim's entire 7,100 square kilometers., "From the air, it
looks as though a giant plough had been carelessly run through
it," writes Rajesh Verma, a local policeman who has produced
perhaps the first guide to Sikkim. "Traveling on these roads
gives you the feeling of riding on a horse that has gone
berserk."
Gangtok stands at 1,700 meters, sprawling defiantly across
a ridge overlooking a drop nearly as deep. Gangtok means Lofty
Hill, an apt moniker. Sights include Rhumtek Monastery (a
replica of
Chhofuk in Tibet) and the Namgyalk Institute of Tibetology,
where the Dalai Lama laid the foundation stone in 1957. In
spring, rhododendron color Sikkim's slopes, while its gardens
are abloom with hundreds of varieties of orchids in spring and
fall. Gangtok's market is equally colorful, showcasing the
capital's population melting pot: tribal weavers, Indians with
overflowing barrels of fragrant spice, Sikkimese tea and
cardamom, and the sparkle of Nepalese silver spread on sarongs.
Sikkim has more than 250 monasteries. In truth, few match the
majesty of those in Tibet or Bhutan. But there is a refreshing
lack of commercialization to tourism here. One can trek to
mountaintop temples and stroll past prayer flags fluttering in
the breeze to spend hours alone, enchanted by chanting and smell
of incense. We did just that after journeying to Phodong, a tiny
North Sikkimese settlement where the three small lodges were
unexpectedly booked up. No problem. Pema Liaden's son was away,
so the owner of Hotel Yak and Yeti simply removed her son's
belongings and rented us the double room, overlooking dazzling
rice terraces, for US$4. Simple meals from her kitchen for two
cost about the same. From Phodong, there are no tour buses to
the temples. That's part of the pleasure. Along the road, old
men wave for you to stop, not to sell trinkets, but to admire
their recently-capped teeth. A row of flags lead up a steep path
to Phodong Monastery, where a bespectacled monk leads Buddhist
chants, while several novices bang on drums. Nobody breaks
rhythm for the rare visitor.
Further on, the dirt trail winds a few kilometers into
richly-forested hills. Children materialize to guide us along
rickety wooden steps, through a neat and trim village, to the
hidden Labrang Monastery. This is a true gem, parked on a green
plateau, overlooking miles of nothing but snow-capped peaks and
verdant hills that stretch to the very horizon. A young monk
notes our approach, running away madly, returning out of breath
minutes later. Smiling, he produces a key to the small temple.
At Labrang, like temples around Sikkim, there is no gate. There
are also no ticket booths, tour buses, nor stands selling
souvenirs. Inside Labrang temple, there isn't even an offering
box.
Thanks seems payment enough.
Nevertheless, the tourism machine is
beginning to roll in Sikkim.
A hint of what is on the way can be seen in
Pelling, a mountain town wrapped in the mist of western
Sikkim. New hotels clutter
the outpost and cement pilings attest to a tourism boom on the
horizon. "We want to do more promotion now that Sikkim is
opening up," says Surendra Pradhan, managing director of
Siniolchu Tours, and the general secretary of the Travel Agents
Association of Sikkim. "The more business, the better."
Sikkimese are understandably anxious for development, and the
world will doubtlessly comply. Expect wider roads for busloads
of wide-eyed tourists who will book guided treks to remote
monasteries, where they will swoon at the sight of unfettered
Tibetan worship. In a way, it's ironic. Condemnation of China's
takeover of Tibet has become a trendy global concern. Yet
nobody gripes about assimilation in Sikkim, where hill children
no longer speak their own tongues. Hindi and Nepalese are
taught in school. And massive migration from Nepal and Bengal
has reduced the native population, mainly Lepchas, to under 20
percent of Sikkim's population of 425,000 people. The Limbus and
the Bhutias, other notable tribes, are actually of Tibetan
descent. Perhaps most ironic of all, they escaped religious
persecution back home, where Sikkim's Red Hat Sect was driven
out by the Yellow Sect, the same Tibetan Buddhists now in vogue.
Sikkim itself simmers somewhat. "The immigrants from India take
all the jobs," says a clothing vendor at Lal Bazar in Gangtok.
"And the Nepalese bring all the trouble." But few regret
joining India, a marked contrast from sentiment in Tibet.
That's a consequence of self-determination. Over 95 percent of
voters supported statehood and an end to centuries of rule by
the Sikkimese monarchy.
Since then, India has poured scarce government funding into the
region, mainly because of military concerns. China still does
not recognize India's rule of Sikkim and the surrounding area is
rife with autonomy chatter. Not in Sikkim, which enjoys tax-free
status and some odd industries. Travel brochures tout Swiss
mountains and alpine lakes, and Sikkim, like Switzerland, also
produces timepieces. These could be souvenirs for a new
generation of tourists. Already lines can be seen in Gangtok for
jeep tours to distant lakes along the border, where special
group passes are needed. Still, nothing stops an intrepid
traveler from hopping into one of the rickety land cruisers that
pass for public transport around Sikkim. Expect to average 20-30
kilometers per hour - if there are no landslides.
Still, there's no need to rush. Sikkim is a place for studied
slowness, with rewards often coming during the journey rather
than at the stated destination. That's the spirit that took us
to Phodong one night, far from civilization with no means for
returning to Gangtok.
But the engineer came to our rescue, and driving slowly back to
Gangtok, we found our reward waiting on the winding mountain
road. After stopping at the sound of chanting, we joined the
engineer and the monk on the mountain terrace, where we were
served fragrant tea while savoring the incense and views. Only
later did we learn the occasion. This was a typical Buddhist
one-year ceremony, with elements of native spirituality blended
in. A year before, another official had been traveling this same
road, in a similar jeep. It plunged off the road where the monk
sat. There were no survivors.
"They weren't lucky," the engineer tells us.
But, braving the long and winding roads in Sikkim, we were.
Some tips for
travelers:
Documents: Foreigners must have a permit stamped in their
passport, which is free for the asking when you get your Indian
visa. This 15-day permit can be extended at the Tourist
Information Office in Gangtok, which also issues access permits
for the latest parts of Sikkim opening up.
Transportation: There are no airports or railroads in
Sikkim, and only one road connecting the state to the rest of
India. Most visitors take trains or buses to either Siliguri or
Darjeeling, and then take a jeep to Gangtok. Shared jeeps cost
$3 to $4, or an entire jeep can be hired for $20 to $25 for the
three- to four-hour ride. There are also flights from Calcutta
and New Delhi direct to Bagdogra airport, outside Siliguri.
Lodging: Hotels can be booked upon arrival in any
Sikkimese town. Information is readily available in Gangtok at
the government tourist office. In Gangtok, the top hotel is the
Hotel Tashi Delek (Tel: (03592) 222991; Fax: 222362; rooms $60
and up), but scores of lodges and guesthouses dot every ridge
road. One standout is the
Hotel Sonam Delek (Tel: 222566, 224025; Fax: 223197), where
rooms with arguably the best views in town go for $13.
Food: While the food is essentially the same as much of
India, Sikkim also boasts the added delicacies of Tibetan,
Nepalese and Bhutanese cuisine. In Gangtok, expect to pay no
more than $10 to $15 for two in a variety of exotic eateries
such as the Blue Sheep Restaurant (specialties include the
sizzling platters). Hotel restaurants are also good value,
particularly the Snow Lion at the
Tibet Hotel (a meal of
marvelous Indian and regional dishes runs about $10 for two),
and the Oyster Restaurant at the
Hotel Sonam Delek (all regional cuisines, plus Italian, for
about $10 for two).
- By
Ron Gluckman
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