The Raj return to the plains

We sit on the terrace overlooking old Shimla – the drinks waiter has made his way down three flights of stairs simply to provide us with our gin and tonics – I am tempted to offer a tip but remember that this hotel, like the Trident at Agra has a policy against personal tipping.

He adjourns,  his pockets empty - climbs the 50 vertical feet to his bar station – he does not even notice the paucity of oxygen in the atmosphere of Shimla.

We sip our drinks - one hand clasping the gin and tonic – one hand firmly grasping our camera and bags - one eye on the view – one eye on the monkey family who claim this domain as their own!

We are joined by a British couple – the monkeys drop from their perch high on the wall of the terrace – bags are clutched with even greater tenacity – now pairs of human eyes focus on the monkeys as they parade their way across the pavement towards the adjacent trees– as they parade they take a long steady look at us and I swear they uttered forcefully in a language that every monkey would understand – “don’t even think of annoying us or we will bite you on the bum!”

We bravely finish our drinks

We try to capture a photograph that can convey the way in which the hotel clings to the steep slopes of the mountains.

We  take some last photographs of the sun setting over Shimla.

We retire to the entirely vacant restaurant – we greeted warmly – “you leave tomorrow? – they have clearly been briefed! – “it has been my pleasure to serve you” – we order – we eat – the Chef appears – “Did you enjoy the meal?” – it has been my pleasure to serve you” – says he – like his fellow members of staff his is anxious that we note his tag and remember his name.

We ask why the restaurant is empty save for us and the British couple who had just arrived – “oh Indian Tourists do not eat until 10pm” says he.

We adjourn - we comment to each other that the chef has indeed done a wonderful job – we pass the drinks waiter – again – “it is my pleasure to have served you” – he turns to ensure that his chest tag is brought to our attention – I would love to know the precise mechanism by which the proceeds acquired by the centralised tipping system of the hotel is distributed.

We will leave early in the morning – I attempt to pay the bill the evening before departure – I am greeted by the reception staff – like the general staff of the old and regal Clarkes Hotel, they too are keen to complete their farewells – they discretely ensure that we are aware of the central tipping system employed by the hotel - this is a well briefed and managed team! – I am impressed!

The last formalities are attempted – paying the bill – oh dear – try the first card – it does not work – try the second card it – does not work! – then try another machine – the success level remains unaltered – they try a third machine – again the success level remains unaltered – I look aghast – they seem unconcerned – I hastily retreat to the small ATM across the walkway that is the Shimla mall – the cards are tested – they pass with flying colours! – I return to reception – do not worry Sir – it is the network Sir – it is the height Sir! – I puzzle – how in the hell does the height affect the performance of an internet connection but clearly it is an explanation that they feel comfortable with – “you try again in the morning before you leave Sir”

We rise - The season is over! – time for these august members of the Raj to return to the plains! – “our bags are packed – we are ready to go” –  Sanjeev arrives – Yousef arrives – off in the early morning through old Shimla and down the mountain to the airstrip created by unleashing a cavalcade of high powered bull dozers to render level the least inclined ridge line in the vicinity of Shimla – a mighty achievement.

We make our way through the relatively quiet lanes of old Shimla – lanes that carry two lanes of traffic where there is only one lane of width – lanes that carry the occasional holy cow – the occasional group of well fed and relatively friendly canines – lanes that are bordered and impinged on by parked cars - small, dusty cars that occupy every possible resting place at every conceivable angle and inclination along the length of the laneway – cars that bear the scars of transit on the Shimla road system - I smile – we pass a small local hotel – it proudly boasts of “ample parking” – that must be a lie! – there just isn’t ample parking in Shimla!

We finally reach the airport – we have been lured into full trust in our guide – he has set the departure and transit times from the hotel to the airport – the car reaches the airport entrance gate – we are met by armed guards – true armed guards  - professional soldiers – Ak47 -like rifles hanging on shoulder straps - our passports and tickets are inspected – the vehicle is inspected - we progress – the driver and guide stand aside  – we are met at the terminal entrance – more rifle bearing soldiers – our passports and tickets are inspected again – we approach the door of the terminal – an airport officer inspects our passport and tickets – we enter the terminal – “hurry Sir - you are late!” – our passports and tickets are examined again – we are ushered to the check in counter – the check-in clerk looks at us - you are late! – check in has closed!” he barks – I stand stunned – the guide has not been allowed into the terminal – he waits outside – I stand my mouth ajar – he looks at my passport – he finally grunts – issues boarding passes – we are ushered towards security – I look behind – there is a very small queue behind – we were not the last to arrive! – I feel a little relieved – our bags are placed on the security conveyor – they enter the scanning zone – forward – backward – forward – backwards – forwards again – “empty that bag of the leads and power-board!” Says the security officer – the bag goes through! – we are eventually in the boarding area – we look up – the plane has not even arrived in Shimla yet!

The flight to Delhi is without incident – the driver awaits us on terminal exit – an hour – there is the Moldovan Embassy - we are at the Suryaa again!

Like their Clarkes Hotel peers this is a well healed team – the Bell Desk is waiting with our stored luggage – we are greeted with a “Hello Mr Mike” – “Welcome back Mr Mike” – no central tipping here – the bag delivery awaits our decision to rise from the lobby and go to our assigned room – the Bellboy must ensure that there is every opportunity for the service tip to be personally delivered!

We look forward to one last genuine Indian meal before we depart – we will be much more discerning clients of Indian eateries when we return to Australia!

The driver will collect us at 6:15am for our last encounter with the not-so-attractive Indian road system with its numerous cars, trucks, motor cycles, buses and tuk-tuks and their talented drivers, riders and conductors.

We prepare and repack - having lived the life of the Raj in Shimla we are pleased that our departure tickets are marked POSH - we have the starboard side of Premium Economy on the British airways flight to Edinburgh! - passports are checked - credit cards are checked - departure times are checked - we are ready to go!

Travelling India “our style” was a delight – while the style would bore the adventurous among you, it was appropriate for us – our first use of driver and guide – the first use of a travel company – the inclusion of a trip to Shimla to escape the more aggressive of the assaults that India inflicts on your senses? – wise! – wise! – enjoyable! – The palaces and protections of Akbar and his Wives? – stunning! – The Taj Mahal? – exactly what its visitors say about it – a true wonder of the world! – Old Delhi? -  a delight – modern Delhi? – crowded – tired – struggling – trying! – The Travel Company – Enchanting India – rendered a faultless service – “the best company in India” says Sanjeev the freelance Guide from Shimla – highly recommended by these travellers!