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| Beauty in the Mist |
I had read on the Internet about the Yak Golf Course, a nine hole course near Tiger Hill, supposedly the highest golf course in the world. The prospect of playing a round here was tempting but when I asked about getting a share-taxi to Tiger Hill, I was told that there wasn't one. Though I was disappointed at first, this turned out to be a blessing in disguise for, soon after, right near the taxi stand, an elderly gentleman told me that the golf course was not functioning presently. I heaved a sigh of relief at not having taken a taxi all the way to Tiger Hill on a wild goose chase. Instead, I decided to move on to Pelling. I was told that there was no direct taxi to Pelling and that I would have to change cabs at Jorethang near the West Bengal-Sikkim border.
Booking myself into the back of a taxi to Jorethang, I plugged in my earphones and settled down for the three hour journey. The ride took us up and down beautiful rolling hills carpeted with lush tea gardens. Though it was a winding road, we did not really feel much discomfort due to the swerving, as we were packed in like sardines, twelve adults in one jeep.
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| Fountain in Jorethang |
We were however, all glad when the long journey finally came to an end. Though cabs for Pelling were available, I needed a break, so I ventured out into the town. Jorethang was at a relatively low altitude and the heat was an unpleasant change after the cool weather of Darjeeling. Walking around town, the dusty streets and commercial buildings failed to impress me. Since I had skipped breakfast, my tummy was growling threateningly. Finding a decent restaurant, I ordered a lassi.
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| Lunch Company |
A little while later, a friendly fellow sat down opposite me and introduced himself as Phurba Ongdup Bhutia. Striking up a conversation, he went on to guide me through several places of interest on my map. We ordered a vegetarian thali and once done eating, I thanked him and parted ways. I made my way back to the taxi stand and bought a ticket for Geyzing, the capital of West Sikkim, and only a few miles short of Pelling. The journey was a rough ride and really shook us up. I was told by one of my co-passengers that most roads in Sikkim were like this. A two hour jaw clattering ride brought us to Geyzing town.
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| Sangachoeling Monastery |
My expectation of the capital of West Sikkim to be a big town was pleasantly dashed when I saw the sparsely populated hillside that was the town of Geyzing. Right next to the taxi stand was the Sangachoeling monastery, one of the oldest in West Sikkim. On asking around, I was told that there wasn't anything else of particular significance in Geyzing, and that the tourist attractions were on the road to Pelling.
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| Roshan Subba - Great Company |
Boarding a taxi to Pelling, I struck up a conversation with the kid in the front seat. Fourteen years old, his name was Roshan Subba. He told me that his parents lived at the Rabdentse Ruins where they worked with the Archaeology Department. As Rabdentse was the former capital of Sikkim and a popular tourist destination, I hopped off along with him. On the climb up the hill to the ruins, I was thrilled to learn that he was training to become a professional archer in Shillong at the Boys' Sports Academy and that he was presently on leave.
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| Crematorium on the Way |
On the way up, Roshan pointed out a dilapidated building that was used as a cremation ground from ancient times up until today. We diverted to have a look at it and even found a plastic bag of human bones lying in a corner. From here we continued up the hill till we emerged into the open area at the top.
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| Macchhu Picchhu in India |
The breathtaking view of the Rabdentse Ruins that lay before us could only be compared to the ruins at Machu Picchu in Peru. Though only the walls of the ancient palace remained, the ruins, together with the Palace Gardens could not have been more immaculately maintained.
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| Three Sentinels |
Elaborate stone construction of various palace rooms were pointed out to me by Roshan. He told me that Mount Everest was clearly visible from here on a clear day. However the clouds had obscured the Himalayas from view at the moment. Once we had gone around the ruins, Roshan pointed out a short cut to the Pemayangtse Monastery on the adjacent hill.
Thanking him for his help, I wished him luck and said I hoped to see him representing India at the Olympics. I set out on the steep slope down to the main road, a three kilometer walk followed by a steep climb which brought me to the monastery. I got talking to the friendly ticket seller and he even tied me up with a guide for the Dzongri trek that I had intended doing.
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| Pemayangtse Monastery |
Going around the monastery, I noticed that prayers were in progress and witnessed it from a corner. Young monks in training sat in rows, chanting and singing along with the older monks, most of them playfully inattentive and paying more attention to the funny looking stranger in the corner than the chanting.
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| Monk in Training |
On the third floor there was a beautiful room, all four walls painted with hundreds of figures, including half a dozen slightly explicit ones that had been covered with hanging curtains - probably to avoid awkward questions from the inquisitive youngster monks.
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| Pelling at Last |
As I left the monastery, the ticket seller was just leaving too, and we walked the two kilometers to Pelling town together. I spotted a guesthouse near the town centre and decided to camp there for the night. Called the Ladakh Guesthouse, they had a small dormitory of seven beds for a meagre Rs.150 per bed per night.
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| Evening Chatter |
I plonked my bags down and walked onto the balcony to find a friendly German girl Teresa eating salad sandwiches in the evening chill. I said hello and we started talking. Her English was broken but we still managed to talk about a great deal. She had spent four months in a rape victims' help centre in Nepal and the next three months travelling across India. She was at the end of her trip and was headed back to Germany in a week.
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| Recounting and Documenting |
In a while, I went for a walk around the marketplace and got myself a plate of chowmein to eat. On returning I found that Teresa was already tucked up in bed. We chatted a while longer before she called it a night and I sat down to pen the events of the day. An hour of writing, and I had just about enough energy to creep into my sleeping bag before dozing off.
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