i'm guessing there ain't a shon shoney's or pf chang's on the way. kind of cute. a little train.rowls, i become the kind of traveller i warn against. gripy, self-absorbed, immune to my surroundings. but as my brightly colored little train heads up into the hills from kalka station, known as the gateway to the himalayas, my world view starts to improve. the naturally bright colors of india start to pleasurably saturate my brain. the views from the window of ridiculously deep valleys, hundred-year-old bridges, it's, well, breath-taking. my fellow passengers, too, are irresistibly charming. the school kids in their uniform cheer in unison every time we pass through one of the tunnels. [ cheers ] >> hip hip hooray! >> hip hip hooray! >> hip hip hooray! >> i had pretty much forgotten about my hunger until the whistle stopped at barog one of those, two of these. >> this place is named for a colonel barog, the british engineer tasked with building the line. the station and the adjacent tunnel bearing his name are rumored to be haunted. it's delicious. already behind schedule and plagued