Day 10

With the help of our friendly neighbourhood cockerel, we woke early. From the balcony bit of our digs, the cliff side was also waking. Buddhist prayer bells, twittering birds, the flip flop of passing flip-flops as determined men with baskets three times their size containing foliage climbed the steep road, gentle chattering between neighbours, the endless one armed sweeping, a little 5ish year old nepalese boy clumsily found his way to the little shack shop to buy cigarettes for his dad, received a note in change, rolled it up as he walked, paused, looked around to see if anyone was watching then pretended to smoke it, men wearing fantastic vests and towels around their waists sat on their doorsteps with their morning chai, another small nepalese kid confidently came and talked to us-

Us - Hello
Him - Hello
Us - What is your name?
Him - Fine thankyou
Us - Oh, how are you?
Him - Fine thankyou
Us - How old are you?
Him - Fine thankyou. Ok, good bye.

and off he skiddadled.

Through all of this delightful morning-ness, every now and again, from a source unknown, there would be the sound of a cheap toy playing 'We wish you a merry christmas'.

We had the morning in the factory, processing the first flush teas. With the help of the fetching hygiene hats.



Withering had been done the night before. Again, in long trays that blow hot/cold air through the leaves to reduce moisture content so the leaves don't turn to slush when rolled.



So the withered leaves are then thrown into the rolling machines, for around half an hour. This bruises them, which in turn begins oxidation and develops the flavour.











There is a man at Makaibari. This man is essential for Makaibari brew makering. Using only the acute power of his unassuming nose, he knows exactly when the tea has peaked in flavour. To correctly estimate the time to stop oxidation, most mortals rely on science...




...but not this man.

Irreplaceable and mysterious.

He is known simply as 'THE BLOODHOUND'.



A formidable man.


In usual black tea processing, the leaves are then moved to fermentation trays, to allow further oxidation to take place. Darjeeling first flush teas, however, despite being classed as black, are actually more oolong by definition. Semi fermented.



The tea is moved to fermentation trays, but only for sorting and transportation.

Here we are getting knots out of the rolled leaves....







And here we are earning our keep...



Straight into the dryers, and out the other end as the finished article.

These dried tea leaves, the Makaibari Organic First Flush, make an incredible brew. Brew it gently, in not quite boiling water, for a couple of minutes, and you will be rewarded with a light, refreshing, flowery, uplifting concoction that will forever be your yardstick first flush tea.

We finished the tea day with a walk out to the plantation to say hello to the pickers. We just caught the end of their shift, and got some photos. They were very friendly again, just like at Behora.
















After the walk back up the hill, we sweatily went to the offices to organise our tea purchases. That done, we gave our thankyou gift to Mr Banerjee and headed to get our bags. One last meal with our lovely Kurseong family, Photos and good byes.




Took a taxi to Kurseong train station, to catch the famous toy train to Darjeeling.





There are 2 journey options when getting the toy train. You can take it from Siligiri, where we got the shared jeep 2 days previously. Or you can get it from Kurseong, when you are already half way up the mountainside. To get to Darjeeling from Siligiri takes about 12-14 hours. From Kurseong it takes a mere 3. And the scenery only gets truly wonderful after Kurseong. So, my advice is don't do the full whack. You may regret it. Plus it only uses a steam locomotive from Kurseong. A bloody beautiful train it is too. One of my favourite things to do in the world. It costs a whopping 10 rupees each to get to Darjo. That's 12 pence to us Sterling users. And they give you lovely stamped chunky cardboard tickets, like the olden days.



Unfortunately the younger of us had successfully contracted a little bug that was playing havoc with his digestive system. And a VERY SLOW train is not the best place to have such a problem. There was a look of intense concentration on his fizog for most of the journey, which was a shame as he was putting all of his energy into self control and had little left to enjoy the experience. There are numerous stops heading up the mountain. Chai stops, water refill stops, broken train stops, passenger stops and some inexplicable stops (none of which have toilet facilities, i hasten to add). So you can get off, have a wander. Pat even purchased a nice pair of velcro shoes on one of the stops. One stop, the daughter of the momo/chai stand came and sat down, and had a cute factor of 93.



Some over affectionate lads squeeeeezed into the seats next to us, and we had our knees squeezed and our egos inflated as they insisted repeatedly that they 'really, really liked us'. It got awkward, after a while.



The sun was setting as we approached darjeeling. The train whistled past the waving snotty kids and nonchalant shop keepers, whilst jubilance set in on my part to be back in Darjeeling. Even with the sooty nose hairs.

Getting off the train and walking through the steamy, sooty chaos in the misty twilight of Darjeeling, then clambering steeply upwards, past the very british looking post office, past the numerous candlelit warm clothing vendors, past the Big Bazaar, we made our way to Hotel Prestige. A favourite of mine, run by the most lovely family, that guarantees a good level of hygiene for a very respectable price.
The leccy was off in Darjo, so we were guided to our room by a candle, and had 2 candles in the room. We lay in the flickering semi darkness playing 'I went to the stupid things americans say shop' (…and bought some aluminum some basil some cilantro and a douchebag) until we felt hungry enough to venture outside to feast on Tibetan fare. We were joined for this atmospheric candlelit meal by 2 lovely people from Finland and America.
Momos and thukpas consumed, we headed to Joey's. A little slice of english pubbery in India. It was closed. So we went to bed. With our ridiculously thick duvets. And mountainy fatigue.

Day 9 in Darjo

Brief Summary.

Day 1 To London then to Muscat. Natural History Museum. Plane. Shiny Floors.
Day 2 Muscat to Mumbai. Mumbai Madness. Heat. Smell.
Day 3 Mumbai. As above.
Day 4 Mumbai to Guwahati to Kaziranga. Silly plane journey. Silly bus journey. Abandoned. Sleepy outside.
Day 5 Kaziranga. Bliss. Relax.
Day 6 Kaziranga to Behora. Rhino-sauri.
Day 7 Behora Tea Estate. Tea.
Day 8 Behora to Kurseong. Travel travel travel, new tea estate, evening gathering, bed.
Day 9...


Bloody cockerel.

Ear plugs were necessary. Sam appeared to find the OmanAir complementary sleeping mask necessary also. Each to their own.

Breakfast, 9 am, Aloo Paratha and eggs.


-view to the makaibari brew HQ, from our sleep place-

A tea tasting was organised the previous night. All the guests that had been at the social gathering were to meet at 10am at the tasting room.

This, of course, meant 11am.

Fantastic it was too. Mr Banerjee is a true entertainer. He appears to relish in the theatrical, and consequently captivates people and enthrals his audience, and will not lose their attention until he is done.



Even an interrupting senior will be politely put in his place if he dares distract the Master from his calculated ramblings. You would have trouble to find a more passionate ambassador for quality and ethicality in tea production. He did, in a matter of minutes, what we have been struggling to do for months and months. That is convert people who have never experienced real, beautiful, pure, unadulterated tea into avid conciencious orthodox tea drinkers and appreciators. Because at first, what you drink at Makaibari will be like nothing else you have previously whetted your whistle with. It will be subtle, and you will need guidance and assistance. But, like the first time you discover you can do 3D magic eyes-



-the moment that you discover that what you are drinking is incredibly delicious feels tremendously triumphant, liberating, and like you have been initiated into the elite.





Through the course of a tea tasting session with Mr Banerjee, you are taken on a journey with your fellow tasters. Which begins as spring allows the Camelia Sinensis bushes to start sprouting, which in turn allows the production of the precious 1st Flush teas to commence. Through to the 2nd flush Summer teas, including the mysterious muscatel, which wouldn't be if it weren't for green fly excrement. And finally to the easily overlooked Autumnals. With numerous 'Exoticas' in-between all this flushing. Including the most expensive tea in the world. The Silver Tips Imperial. An exquisite white tea.




The workers enjoy having Mr Banerjee as their manager. They have the upmost respect for him, and hold him in high regard. This comes from his apparent work ethic. The most encouraging methods for any boss is for them to practise what they preach, get their hands dirty, and to lead by example. Mr Banerjee does just that, and more. He knows his product. He has the final say in quality. He can identify which specific area of his estate the tea has come from, a skill that nobody can turn their nose up at. He is positive, seeing hugely detrimental changes in weather patterns as a challenge, not a catastrophe. The new tea season he hits with a hopeful and passionate frame of mind, not one of fear and foreboding. All this, combined with intelligence, affability, charisma and charm creates a hugely influential character. A whirlwind of a man.




This was my second tasting session with Mr Banerjee, my first time being a solo event. And i left the tasting room with the same feeling on both occasions. That of pure excitement.
Excitement for the whole Makaibari enterprise.
Excitement for the future of Quilliam Brothers.
Excitement that comes with the confidence from knowing that your product is a fantastic one, and you are able to bring it to many people.
Excitement that comes from working with such passionate people as Mr Banerjee.
And just excitement from being in the Darjeelingy area again, and seeing what was a dream becoming reality.


We declined an invitation to a farewell picnic for a lady who'd been working there on projects for a month or so, as we had an invitation to hang out at the factory that afternoon. Well, maybe not hang out. As it's hard for we brits to pull off hanging out. We rarely hang out like you from the West do. At the mall. Or at Dairy Queen. Or at my place, watch some movies, get some pizza. We loiter. Awkwardly.
'Hey guys! Wanna go loiter awkwardly at the mall? Get some frozen joghurt?'

So, we did go and loiter at the factory, after lunch and snoozes. No FroYo to speak of though.

They were producing their Bai Mu Dan white tea that afternoon. White tea's are not oxidised. Oxidisation in the leaf creates caffeine, and destroys the antioxidants. The highest caffeine content, and lowest antioxidant content belong to the more oxidised teas. Black teas, then green teas. Oxidisation only starts when the leaf is bruised. The catalyst that usually causes the oxidation process to begin, what bruises the leaves, is the rolling. It bashes and squashes the leaves. And the 30ish minutes that the leaves spend in the rolling machine are enough for it to no longer be a white tea. So white tea cant be mechanically rolled.

I interrupt this tea wittering for an important news flash...




So, the production of Makaibari's Bai Mu Dan takes the freshly picked leaves (a high percentage of them being two leaves and a bud), chuff them on the floor over night to wither slightly and throw them straight through the dryer. As there is no need to mechanically wither or roll. What you are left with is a completely intact tea crisp, or chip if you are from across the pond. It tastes delish straight out of the dryer into the mouth, crunch, and even more delish in a cup with not quite boiling water and 2 minutes of your time, slurp.



We had a insightful and enjoyable afternoon in the factory, being looked after by simply lovely people. Fascinating factoids and tricks of the trade learnt.

Arrangements made for first flush tea processing the following morning.


Food. Read. Decline offer of food. Poker. Food. Tea. Tranquility. Food. Sleep.

Wideo, Wideo, Wideo

Hello Chaps!

News just in -

We have been tasting our potential christmas teas, as documented by Sammy Quizzle on the FaceBook. One of them was tasted in Budapest about 5 years ago, and we were bewitched from the moment the festive fluid touched our eager lips. We have spent our lives travelling the depth and breadth of our planet in search of this delicious concoction ever since. And finally, when all hope had left us, we happened across it. (Maybe, just maybe, we went in and asked the tea house in question where they got it from).

It will be available on our website come November. Along with 6 other wonderful christmas teas, and about 5 other new ones, that are not festive. Also we have been getting there with the gift packs. Also, November is the ETA of them. Woop de Woop.

The Tea House is once more getting somewhere. We are currently looking at the property of our dreams, and are pushing as hard as poss to get it. There is hope. But we are not getting ahead of ourselves. Please collectively cross your fingers that the gods of Bureaucracy and other such things will be looking down upon us.


Until then, here's some stupidity -




Bisous

DAY 8! AND RUBBER STAMP!

We interrupt our zealous attempt at making peking duck to bring you this shocking announcement....

WE BOUGHT A CUSTOM RUBBER STAMP. Yes we did. If anybody wants anything stamped with the QB logo (bit of paper, cardboard box, forehead, nipples) you know where to come.

Whilst we're here, here's some more happenings from bloody months ago...

Day 8 Cont...

So, 5 am. We arrived at Guwahati Train Station, and said our goodbyes and shukriyahs to our trusty, windy (as in gusty, not there are a lot of bends) driver. It was ridiculously busy, as usual.



In the station i knobbed off to find a phone (PCO/STD/ISD???) to call our tout. Apparently he wasn't going to be livid at the fact that it was 5 am. He answered 2nd time round, and we had a natter. He lived about 30 metres from the station, so promised he would be 5 minutes and would meet us in the foyer. 30-odd minutes later he greeted us, smiley-ey. And we completed the transaction, with a fair meaty tip included. At this point we had 10 mins til the train departerated, so we found our newly acquired seats and off we trot.



Further note on the Indian Railway System.

We were on a Rajdhani Express. There are numerous Rajdhani Expresses. Doing major routes. For example, Delhi Mumbai. They are the most luxurious of the trains, and the lowest class available is 3AC. You get food, blankets and good service. All trains in India have a wicked name. Like the Darjeeling Mail, or Kanchenjunga Express.

In the first hour, we were given chai to keep us occupied til breakfast came. Which was a strange fried vegetarian object. With Toast. Chai. And apple juice.



The scenery was fantastic, paddy fields, with workers doing paddy field activities, cattle with egrets on their backs, palms, a multitude of river crossings and of course tea plantations.







We then got into our bunks, sam on top, me middle, pat bottom, and nodded off. Kind of. There was a man that kept burping. Which certainly got annoying after a few times. I was using Terry Pratchett Audio Books as a sleep inducer, so my dreams were slightly Disk World infused. It was cold. My lord, they definitely were using the AC. We all woke up wrapped in our jumpers and jackets and blankets, and laughed at each other. This, in an outside temperature of 40+ degrees celsius. Silly.



And we arrived, 3 in the afternoon. Hastily we jumped into a jeep that would jet us up the mountains to Kurseong, the location of our next tea plantation. Shared jeep is the preferred transportation of the masses in the West Bengal Hills. A 3 hour ride up the hills would cost you 90 rupees, or 1 pound 30 pence a seat, and you are rammed 4 to a row, in 3 rows. So 12 people per jeep. Not including the people who sit on the roof or cling on to the back. It's a windy road (as in there are lots of bends, not gusty), so the squished rows of people kind of helps keep your side to side movement to a minimum. There is ALWAYS a person throwing up in these jeeps. Always. After about 15 or more of these jeep rides, i still have not been in a vomit free one. There's a chai stop half way up, to allow for engines to cool, and to allow drivers to wipe off aforementioned stomach contents from body work.





Sam created this wonderful representation of the logo in some melty tar with a stick.



We arrived in Kurseong. Ravenous and slightly stressed. We had just received news of our now Late Grandfather becoming late. So, upset, behind schedule and exhausted we attempted to book tickets to the Isle of Man to attend the ceremony, which was to happen the day after we were to arrive back in the UK. This process was so very, very frustrating. For numerous reasons. I also nipped off to try and find a telephone to attempt to call the next tea estate to say we were running late, as the previous couple of days the phone had not been working. No joy, as the phones had been cut off in the whole town. L:fljskdnjkasdansdv.

Here's a little bit of music that was playing next to us, which helped relax us all.




After, we decided to splurge on a taxi to the tea estate (usually a lovely 45 minutes walk). Arrive we did.

The tea estate on which we would be staying is called 'Makaibari'. It is an organic plantation. Makers of some of the finest teas in the world. Run by the eccentric Rajah Banerjee, who has an overwhelming presence and never fails in making you feel 8 years old. Both in maturity and intelligence. We very much like him. This was the second time meeting him, and we were getting mentally prepared for the onslaught of information that would no doubt be referred back to during the duration of our stay. Like a test to see if you had been listening. What's more, i was bloody nervous as none of our calls had worked and it was sort of like turning up uninvited, even though this date had been set in previous correspondence.
The gate guard shouted to the assistant, who walked us to the estate offices, and told us to wait outside of Mr Banerjees room. There we stood, in silence with our silly back packs on after a good chunk of sweaty journeying - feeling like 3 vagrant wanderers who just decided it would be sweet to pop in to see one of the most influential people in India. Ho hum.

So, into the office we were led, engulfed in that particular variety of silence that seems to only exist during moments of extreme awkwardness. Tum te tum. But, we were warmly received, though slightly scolded for failing to call. Straight in to deep philosophical convo, which was a little hard on our destroyed minds. He has an inspiring mix of spirituality and down to earth-ness. We were then introduced to the lovely Nayan, whos family we would be staying with. And off we trot to our homestay. 3 in a big bed. Lots of food. They sure didn't hold back on the hospitality. The mum was wonderful, as was the brother. Thankyou so much Nayan and family.

Walking to the homestay...




That evening there was to be a gathering up at the managers bungalow. We had heard rumours of other foreigners being around, and as we dodged the barking dogs at the front door, we were enthusiastically introduced to 7ish lovely germans and a couple of brits who were there on projects (which i will go into more detail about later). Craic was lovely (apart from when the spotlight was turned onto us), and the mean G & T's lubricated the proceedings well. Picture the scene if you will. A circle of around 18 peoples, ensconced on a variety of wonderful and mismatched seating, purposely split into little convo groups of 3 or 4, surrounded by nik-naks and whotnots that had been collected since the estate began some 150 years ago (stuffed tigers, aged portraits, over polished trinkets etc etc), whilst Van Morrison successfully generated the easy going ambience required for drinkies and nibbles. It was lovely, civilised and everybody was JOLLY NICE. We got tiddled on 2 G & T's (Mr Banerjee, your drink making skills will go down in history), and as the gathering came to a conclusion, we merrily wandered in the dark back to our big bed. Much to our surprise, we had a massive meal of fried beef and rice waiting for us. Which we consumed, happily. Our surrogate mum was worried that we hadn't eaten properly before we left, so stayed up waiting for us to return. Again, JOLLY NICE.

And off to sleep we nodded. Happily unaware of the evil cockerel lurking just outside our window...





Apologies for the quality of photos in this installment, we were obviously going through a bad stage.

Survey Please!

Hello everybody.

Here is our poorly put together survey we would love you all to do.

http://bitURL.net/ad5c

It's about tea, and other such things.

Whoever completes it the fastest will receive a real treat! -
Mick Hucknall, doing the shake n vac.

Half of Day 8. Thorough.

Day 8

Our original plan for getting from Behora to Siliguri, the town at the base of the West Bengal Hills on the way to Darjo, was to get the 13 hour over night Rajdhani Express Train from Mariani Junction, a mere 10 km from the tea estate. On day one we went train ticket buying, and were informed that there was no way we would be able to get tickets for the journey from Mariani Junction to Siliguri, as you generally need to book months in advance. Now, here is a perfect place to slot some thoughts on the Indian Railway System.

Ok. Here is what we understand. A high percentage of the following information is probably inaccurate.

First of all, there are 8 classes. 1AC, 2AC, 3AC, First Class, Executive Chair, AC Chair, Sleeper, and finally 2nd class. AC stands for Air Conditioned, but it actually means more than that. It's a sign of quality and luxury, throughout India. Not all classes are available on all trains. For example, if the train goes over night there wont be a chair option. Sleeper class is the way most of the population travels long distance, thus making it the most insightful and fun. Windows are open, you can hang out of the doors whilst in motion, chai sellers and nibbley sellers are allowed on, it's noisy, often stinking hot, dirty, but bloody marvellous.

The coaches also have a habit of being infested with cockroaches and/or rodents (with rodents being preferable in my book, as they are, at least, cute), though we encountered none this trip. Sleeper tickets are ridiculously cheap by western standards (e.g 24hr train ride, travelling somewhere around 1400 km would cost around 6 pounds), and you sit 3 in a row on cushioned blue plasticy benches, that later get converted into your 3 bunk beds, by the well engineered, simple method of hinges and hooks. No food is included in the price, but you are always around food for sale on platforms or from official/unofficial sellery guys, and from the wonderfully generous and friendly co-passengers that you inevitably create a rapport with that often feed you whether you like it or not.

There is a real sense of being in touch with the landscape you travel through when travelling sleeper class. Because the wind rushes in your face, because you can jump off the train if it pauses in the middle of nowhere for 10 minutes, because you can smell the delights/horrors of what's around you, because you can stick your full body out of the train and feel the power of the locomotive as it whistles close by gawking youths, sincere looking adults, and wavey children, because the noise is in your ears, always. It's exhilarating. And like nothing you can experience in western europe train travel anymore, where you are disconnected as much as possible from everything. We enter our little silent travel pods, spend a while texting, eat our pre-bought packaged sterile chicken salad sandwich and our chocolate treat that we've been aching to open since the journey began, listen to our solid state illegally acquired pop music, play a mobile phone game or two, even do internetty things on our portable computer lapmachines, possibly exchange small talk with neighbours, maybe occasionally glance out of the window, read the paper, do a puzzle, nip to the loo (though not whilst at a station!), until we alight at our destination. Slightly better at freecell, and up to date with correspondence, but none the wiser on the little, important things that make the world interesting, eclectic, fascinating and generally brilliant. Trains are wonderful. Indian trains are wonderful-er. Ok, you might occasionally witness bathrooms with shit everywhere, a young girl vomming out of the window with gusto, men hocking up enthusiastically and phlegming on the floor, chai sellers alerting potential customers at an unreasonable 5 am with not entirely necessary ear splitting yells, cockroaches on your face in the dead of night, and other frustrations, but my god, it's great to have the CHOICE to travel in the slightly sterile AC classes or the living, breathing Sleeper Class. (the pomposity of personifying a train class. Apologies.) As opposed to only the sterile option in England.

Preaching travellers are seldom not annoying. Not only because what is being said is usually exaggerated or warped in some way or another, but because it is nearly always being said from an unrealistic perspective. Travellers by their very definition are travelling, which basically means they are on holiday, albeit a more 'hardcore' holiday, not living in the country of visitation. Things always have to be better or worse on holiday, just so when you return you can have an opinion and sound worldly. And just like a hoildayer can't wait to show photos and complain about the lack of chips, a certain kind of traveller cant wait to preach. So please, this is not a - 'you simply must experience train travel in india, it's an unforgettable kasldjnfkjsdf et la de da', this is a - 'it's nice to feel in charge of the choices you make and not have everything decided for you, nice to feel in touch with a small part of the world, nice to not have to rely on a mobile communication device for sensory stimulation, nice to experience different things'. That went on a bit longer than expected.

The ticketing of train travel. This is the most flummoxing aspect of the trainal system. So, different authorities receive a quota of tickets to sell. Some for online selling, some for selling at particular stations but not at other stations, some for tourist information shops, some for travel agencies, there's a tourist quota, an emergency quota, a reserve quota and heaps of other quotas(?).


Right. How do you get your hands on them? Well. We still don't fully know. BUT, generally what has worked in the past is we go to the chaotic reservation area in a large city station (usually separate from the station itself) and fill in a form after trying to locate said form for a good chunk of time.




The form asks for the train name and train number (which you can only find out after queueing for a good chunk of time), which station you will be getting on/off, date of travel, class of travel in order of preference, name, sex, date of birth of each passenger, whether you are a doctor, whether you want to be entitled to a free upgrade (?), address and phone in uk, address and phone in india (?) and finally signature, and date of signature. Then you queue for a good chunk of time, all the while battling for your position in the queue, and give in form. They then tell you one of a number of things:-

-'ok, that'll be xxx rupees' (ideal situation, but unfortunately quite rare)
-'there are no tickets in that class, i can give you another class' (expensive, but still a good comment to get)
-'there are no tickets, but i can give you a one on the waiting list' (there are always cancellations, so you get given a WL number, and find out if you've been successful on the day. Usually under 100 is a good position to be in. You could also in this case ask for a tadkal (emergency) ticket, which costs slightly more. Some trains dont have a tadkal quota though, and others sell out easily)
-'Full' (followed by shrug).
-'you have to pay for the whole journey if you want a ticket' (for example, if a popular train starts at point a and travels to point c, and you want to travel from point b to point c, you would have to pay from a to c, because that is how the quota is given to them)
-'go to counter number 94' (which could mean anything. Occasionally this has been wonderfully helpful, occasionally counter 94 doesn't exist)
-'Haha' (usually followed by something like 'you need to book 3 months in advance for this train')

Some mega-stations have a tourist counter, which is just froody. It lubricates the complex mission hugely, but still occasionally leads to a no ticket situation, especially if heading off the beaten path.







One time we three were in Putrid Patna, and i shall indulge the ticket situation to you when we get there in a week. It was interesting, and we concluded that if you just HAPPEN to meet the right person, then it's possible to get any train ticket, even one that 'you need to book 3 months in advance'.

Also, on the subject of quota distribution, it is apparently used as a subtle method of weakening a population that appears to be revolting in some way or another. For example, where we are heading now there is the Gorkha movement, trying to create a separate state 'Gorkhaland'. So the government gives them a very small quota on the major trains leaving the area, meaning the population constantly feels repressed, trapped and helpless. Clever.

This is all very complicated. Just when i think it cant get more complicated, it does. But, it works, for better or for worse. 21 million seats a day around the country successfully distributed.

The reason for getting so deep into this isssss that although there were absolutely no tickets for the first leg to Guwahati, the helpful man we met in Kohora knew a man who knew someone who could get us 3 tickets on the second leg. So alls we needed to do was get to Guwahati. Now, the last night bus gets in too late to catch a 6 am train, and the bus before the night buses gets in at 1am. So we said 'Fuck It' over a decision making chai meeting and decided to get a car to Guwahati. The price difference was minimal, and it meant we could leave late in the evening, have more time at Behora, and arrive with enough time to meet our ticket tout. Also it meant we could avoid another bumpy bumpy bus ride.

So we did that.

After watching an intense cricket game, which was a huge community event. The usual serenity of cricket was disturbed by the ever so distracting generator BRRMMMMMM.




We stopped a few times for night time chai, whilst the driver had a nap.









Not going to lie, he might've had a tendency to break wind during sleep. Entering the car after the breaks was not pleasant. Sam created a catchy little tune, the only lyrics being 'This car smells of fart'.

Indeed.

One of the chai breaks we witnessed a very drunk 13ish year old play the fool once too often and piss off a strange older man. Who threw a big jug of water in a fit of rage (not sure if it was jocular rage or not) in the drunk kids general direction. It missed him, and hit another guy. It was entertaining.



We also stopped for a theatrical performance of a Hanuman Fable. Hanuman is the Hindu warrior monkey god. And there was a play on. At 00.30. For children. Not sure what the craic was with the time of showing. Surely a matinee would've been more suitable. But there you go. There we ran into a reporter for the Assam Spectator or something newspapery sounding. We did an interview before our driver suddenly decided it was time to go. So maybe we are in a newspaper article somewhere in Assam. That was a surreal stop.



Bloody hell, it's only 5am in this tale of Day 8. Perhaps a break is in order. Yes. Signing off.

Quilliam Bruvaz

Website officially official

Today was lovely. So many nice people everywhere. Molto Thankyou Evereebodee.










Mega Cake Selection:

Ma's Fruit cake
Chocolate Brownies
Weener's Rocky Road
Tina's Heinous Chocolate Cake
Courgette Cake (Zucchini to all you funny speakers)
Chocolate Cookies
Sharon's Banana Cake
Bev's Mega Scones
Lemon Tart
Apricot Cake

Rocky Road won the 'most ridiculous cake' award, with it's fantastic combination of mars bars, maltesers, marshmallows and apricots. So well done there. And as ever, Sharon's Banana Cake delivered the goods. Thanks so much everyone who baked.

And that was all washed down with litres and litres of Brew. Pats lemon and ginger iced tea was on offer, as was a big vat of chai.



We broadcasted every minute of the NoN sToP action via LIVE VIDOCULAR STREAMS (not the wet kind) so thanks for watching, those who did. At one point we had a massive 6 (yes, 6!) viewers.

So, indeed, whoop dee doo, the website is running.




www.quilliambrothers.com is now open for trade, and those UK-ers amongst can purchase to your hearts content. You foreigners will be able to purchase in the future. So stay tuned. Or, nip to another channel for a bit, but set a reminder to come back a bit later on. But please don't get engrossed in another, better programme/show and forget about us.


Thankyou for your kind words, thankyou for your wonderful cards, thankyou for your support, and thankyou Miss S H for the bubbly.


Spread the word, please.

The furry mouthed, sugar high-ed, savoury craving, Quilliam Siblings.





P.S Click here for wonderful-ness