Biratnagar was only a short bus ride from the Eastern border. Nepal released me with no fuss and I left the wonderful country the same way I entered it, crossing a bridge by foot. Indian customs was unsmiling, yet simple and I found myself standing in a new country.
That night, I slept in Siliguri, an unremarkable town just off the border that actually sees many a Westerner, as it's the main transit hub for Darjeeling, Sikkim, and the Northeastern states of India. It's dusty, dirty, loud and offers nothing for the tourists but buses, trains, beds, and copious amounts of prescription drugs, sold for cheap; 75% of the businesses were drug stores.
I stayed at a hotel of little note except its high cost for quality, but I had quite a good dinner at a hole-in-the-wall joint nearby. Good news to the reader, especially those with Dunham blood: now that I'm in India, I will have a food diary with photos, so everyone can learn the wonders of Indian food with me. Though I've been cooking it for years and I'm getting quite good, I'd still like to improve my techniques and learn more about the authentic flavors. It's not that Nepal had food unworthy of such treatment, it's just that the food was simple and easy to decode, more hearty than bursting with flavor. Indian food is different, the art of the masala takes a lifetime to master.
I'd be heading to Darjeeling and Sikkim first, both are very culturally similar to Nepal, so my taste-buds shouldn't have too much of a workout to start.
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