Ninjas & Mary Poppins...all in the same day
Here we have Pemma Taschi - my post night on the
town tennis
opponent!
You will have noted that steely, resolute glance; that air of ease with himself; the possibility, at any moment, of launching himself in all directions of the compass - purely because he could. Yes, here we have Pemma Taschi - a member of the British Army's exclusive Gurkha brigade (or whatever the proper term is....) for 14 years where he served in places ranging from Hong Kong to Germany to Gulf War 1. The Gurkhas are usually sent into the really tough situations - especially where stealth and ninja-like skills are needed. Did I really need to be facing this across the tennis court - especially while nursing a slight hangover??? Surely, you will have all answered a resolute NO!....but I suspect the pure entertainment factor of watching my knees knock would have brought out the darker sides of your personalities and a well-rounded cheer of "Go for it" would have rung around the surrounding hills. Bowing to this pressure, I trudged up the hill to the Darjeeling Gymkhana Club where my fate awaited me. Our friendly Ninja greeted me at the gates and off we went to the courts, he with a swagger - me with stagger. Our first game, much to my great relief was as partners - and, I have to admit, we were about as bad as each other - and were soundly defeated by a pair who were far sneakier (but vastly worse looking). Pemma, then deciding to plumb the depths of his strategic Gurkha training, had me play for half an hour with one of our doubles conquerors - and if you've ever tried running around at 7,000 feet, you'll know that there was some heavy breathing going on (at least on my part). Pemma and I then decided to play singles against each other (he having had a nice rest). It was a hammer and tongs kind of match with each of us pulling ahead and then being reeled back. At about this point, Amber showed up with my camera and decided to take a short movie of the proceedings - conveniently timed to record my somewhat off-colour reaction to the final episode of a series of bad shots. Down 3-2, I was needing to focus...
Fortunately, my serve miraculously returned and we ended up finishing up at 3-3 before breakfast arrived....whew! One more doubles match (amazingly with a partner who was a classmate of mine all those years ago) and I collapsed on the bench. In the meantime, Amber was schmoozing it up with a Tibetan admirer who kept asking her where she modelled!
Our lovely morning at the Gymkhana Club ended and, call us crazy, but we decided to brave a second Happy Valley Tea Garden Quest. After I told Anil Rai (the school's Asst. Headmaster) about my inability to follow his oral directions, he spent a good 10 minutes producing this Geological Survey-quality map! Note that "Factory" means the tea garden's processing facility.
Between the map and our new found friends Mike (from North Van) and Marie (from Stockholm), we felt somewhat more confident of finding the confounded thing. Well...amazingly enough we found it - albeit with one wrong turn. Coming around a corner and peering furtively down the hill we...much to my amazement...we spotted our quarry!
After descending a rather steep path for a significantly shorter period of time than our previous expedition, we came upon the main body of the factory. There we ran into a woman who informed us that there was no processing going on (as it was Sunday)....aargh! As we soon found out, this was not a woman to allow such minor inconveniences to get in the way of her entrepreneurial zeal...and our loss was most definitely her gain! Here began our introduction to Kusum - the grand dame of the lower valley who held court in her one room shack next to the factory. She said she could not help us with the processing - but if we wanted to learn about making tea, she was our woman. So, after a bit of head scratching to try and understand what on Earth she was talking about, we bowed our heads (Mike bowing most of his body) and clattered over her threshold. We were then treated to a long dissertation on which leaves were plucked at what times, the significance of putting the leaves in boiling water and, quite possibly, the implications of the tidal tables on the 2nd flush (ie. of leaves).
This was all a bit overwhelming for us mere mortals and so when she informed us that the best tea of the bunch was "Super Fine Tippy Golden Flowery Orange Pekoe", and I added "Supercalifrajalisticxpaledocious", she was just a bit non-plussed! The rest of the gang, however, were not quite so irreverent and continued to listen politely, with Marie even appearing to take notes....
We were, of course, allowed to sniff all the various levels of tea....but when the Supercalifrajalisticxpaledocious is trotted out, how could we help but buy the best. Then again, forking out Rs 150 (about Cdn$4.50) per 100 grams was not exactly the stuff of high finance. We were also informed that drinking tea (without the milk & sugar) keeps you young. Kusum claimed she was 60 years old - however, we did get suspicious when her brother showed up and informed us he was 31! Freshly laden with our stash, with the prospect of eternal youth dancing in our heads, and no taxi in sight, we started the not quite so long slog back up the mountainside. We seem to be getting rather fond of this angle...
After struggling to the top and dodging the taxis on the main road, we reached the lower taxi stand. Heading back up the hill through the teeming crowds, should you find yourself suddenly naked (other than the fact that this would no doubt create one of those awkward pregnant pauses), you would, in short order, be able to outfit yourself fairly easily in the season's latest offerings. Amber, giving the naked requirements a miss, decided to skip right to the outfitting section and screeched to a halt in the midst of the busy thoroughfare.
This resulted in her acquiring a new tank top for a dollar and losing our friends in the crowd, all in one go. We proceeded homeward, friendless but fashionable.....
You will have noted that steely, resolute glance; that air of ease with himself; the possibility, at any moment, of launching himself in all directions of the compass - purely because he could. Yes, here we have Pemma Taschi - a member of the British Army's exclusive Gurkha brigade (or whatever the proper term is....) for 14 years where he served in places ranging from Hong Kong to Germany to Gulf War 1. The Gurkhas are usually sent into the really tough situations - especially where stealth and ninja-like skills are needed. Did I really need to be facing this across the tennis court - especially while nursing a slight hangover??? Surely, you will have all answered a resolute NO!....but I suspect the pure entertainment factor of watching my knees knock would have brought out the darker sides of your personalities and a well-rounded cheer of "Go for it" would have rung around the surrounding hills. Bowing to this pressure, I trudged up the hill to the Darjeeling Gymkhana Club where my fate awaited me. Our friendly Ninja greeted me at the gates and off we went to the courts, he with a swagger - me with stagger. Our first game, much to my great relief was as partners - and, I have to admit, we were about as bad as each other - and were soundly defeated by a pair who were far sneakier (but vastly worse looking). Pemma, then deciding to plumb the depths of his strategic Gurkha training, had me play for half an hour with one of our doubles conquerors - and if you've ever tried running around at 7,000 feet, you'll know that there was some heavy breathing going on (at least on my part). Pemma and I then decided to play singles against each other (he having had a nice rest). It was a hammer and tongs kind of match with each of us pulling ahead and then being reeled back. At about this point, Amber showed up with my camera and decided to take a short movie of the proceedings - conveniently timed to record my somewhat off-colour reaction to the final episode of a series of bad shots. Down 3-2, I was needing to focus...
Fortunately, my serve miraculously returned and we ended up finishing up at 3-3 before breakfast arrived....whew! One more doubles match (amazingly with a partner who was a classmate of mine all those years ago) and I collapsed on the bench. In the meantime, Amber was schmoozing it up with a Tibetan admirer who kept asking her where she modelled!
Our lovely morning at the Gymkhana Club ended and, call us crazy, but we decided to brave a second Happy Valley Tea Garden Quest. After I told Anil Rai (the school's Asst. Headmaster) about my inability to follow his oral directions, he spent a good 10 minutes producing this Geological Survey-quality map! Note that "Factory" means the tea garden's processing facility.
Between the map and our new found friends Mike (from North Van) and Marie (from Stockholm), we felt somewhat more confident of finding the confounded thing. Well...amazingly enough we found it - albeit with one wrong turn. Coming around a corner and peering furtively down the hill we...much to my amazement...we spotted our quarry!
After descending a rather steep path for a significantly shorter period of time than our previous expedition, we came upon the main body of the factory. There we ran into a woman who informed us that there was no processing going on (as it was Sunday)....aargh! As we soon found out, this was not a woman to allow such minor inconveniences to get in the way of her entrepreneurial zeal...and our loss was most definitely her gain! Here began our introduction to Kusum - the grand dame of the lower valley who held court in her one room shack next to the factory. She said she could not help us with the processing - but if we wanted to learn about making tea, she was our woman. So, after a bit of head scratching to try and understand what on Earth she was talking about, we bowed our heads (Mike bowing most of his body) and clattered over her threshold. We were then treated to a long dissertation on which leaves were plucked at what times, the significance of putting the leaves in boiling water and, quite possibly, the implications of the tidal tables on the 2nd flush (ie. of leaves).
This was all a bit overwhelming for us mere mortals and so when she informed us that the best tea of the bunch was "Super Fine Tippy Golden Flowery Orange Pekoe", and I added "Supercalifrajalisticxpaledocious", she was just a bit non-plussed! The rest of the gang, however, were not quite so irreverent and continued to listen politely, with Marie even appearing to take notes....
We were, of course, allowed to sniff all the various levels of tea....but when the Supercalifrajalisticxpaledocious is trotted out, how could we help but buy the best. Then again, forking out Rs 150 (about Cdn$4.50) per 100 grams was not exactly the stuff of high finance. We were also informed that drinking tea (without the milk & sugar) keeps you young. Kusum claimed she was 60 years old - however, we did get suspicious when her brother showed up and informed us he was 31! Freshly laden with our stash, with the prospect of eternal youth dancing in our heads, and no taxi in sight, we started the not quite so long slog back up the mountainside. We seem to be getting rather fond of this angle...
After struggling to the top and dodging the taxis on the main road, we reached the lower taxi stand. Heading back up the hill through the teeming crowds, should you find yourself suddenly naked (other than the fact that this would no doubt create one of those awkward pregnant pauses), you would, in short order, be able to outfit yourself fairly easily in the season's latest offerings. Amber, giving the naked requirements a miss, decided to skip right to the outfitting section and screeched to a halt in the midst of the busy thoroughfare.
This resulted in her acquiring a new tank top for a dollar and losing our friends in the crowd, all in one go. We proceeded homeward, friendless but fashionable.....
Posted: Mon - November 10, 2003 at 09:10 PM
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Published On: Nov 21, 2003 04:41 PM
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Published On: Nov 21, 2003 04:41 PM