Darjeeling was a beauty, but it was raining and it did not seem that sunshine was to come anytime soon. And none of the Himalayan areas seemed to be exempt from the monsoon weather. Had it been solely up to me, I would have stuck around Darjeeling for the three days, checked out the zoo, the Tibetan refugee center, Ghoom monastery and other landmarks which we missed by driving to Sikkim. Simply enjoyed the town, the people. But it was not all up to me.
Gaby's plans involved having us on the Himalayan roads after sunset and I was not too happy about it. The combination of fog, rain, narrow crappy mountain roads, steep valleys and darkness,at least in my eyes, provide a recipe for disaster. My sense of adventure did get dissed by Gaby during heated conversations but I stood my grounds and managed to have us on the mountain roads between 7am and 5pm. I may as well have saved our lives.
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| mountain road |
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| representative foggy landscape during our drive to Sikkim |
We arrived to Pelling, Sikkim around noon-time and were welcomed by pouring rain. We found a cute hotel "Pharmrong" where we were to spend our two nights in Sikkim. Our care-takers were nice young boys who were just wonderful. They even packed us breakfast on our last morning when we left at 6 am before the official breakfast time: boiled eggs, veggie sandwiches and mango juice. Very homey feeling. When asked what type of eggs they prepared, they answered: chicken eggs.
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our lovely room
Pelling was a pit-stop for trekkers and not a final destination in itself. It mostly consisted of hotels with one at every 10 m or so. The little town, however, was home to the second oldest Buddhist monastery in Sikkim. That afternoon, we hiked up to the beautiful sanctuary, led by a dog "Sandy" which we met along the way and that made sure we did not lose our path.
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| Pemagyantse Buddhist Monastery |
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| Pemagyantse Buddhist Monastery |
There was not much to do in Pelling and in the evening we hit an internet café to research the areas around that may be visited. We had learnt that same day the Yuksom was home to the oldest monastery in Sikkim (Dubdi) and it was only an hour away from Pelling. How we learnt about Dubdi was also a highlight of the trip. While walking around Pemagyantse monastery we stumbled across young school girls in one of the houses. Intrigued, we asked them what they were doing there. We are here to meet our school director, they replied. Do you want to meet him too, they continued. Gaby and I exchanged a look that translated into hell yeah! We went upstairs with the girls to a room that ressembled a temple apart from the biohazard bag on the side, which for a second , confused me into thinking I was in the lab again. What was that bag doing there in the second oldest Buddhist monastery?
The girls sat composed and quietly waiting. We waited too. After a few minutes that seemed more like hours, an older man dressed in what looked like Buddhist monk clothing walked in. He looked at us and came towards our seat and took some objects from the table infront of us. It was then that Gaby and I realized that we had sat in his spot. We apologized and started to move but he stopped us. Sit sit, he said, signaling with his hand. He then sat across from us at the far end of the room. He asked one of the girls to take care of several chores like carrying blue sheets to him gently and other tasks that seemed incomprehensible to us. Must be the teacher’s pet, I whispered to Gaby who let out a chuckle.
How can I help you, the man asked. Confused as to what to answer, we said that we were curious to learn about whether there was a school involved with the monastery. He then informed us we had walked into his home. He was not a monk. Apparently, a monk sold this house years ago to the man’s ancestor and so he now resides there abiding by the laws of the monastery. He also runs a school to educate needy students who can’t afford to pay fees. The school was a few km away. We teach them mathematics, sciences, economics, just as you learnt in your schools, but we also teach them an important thing, nonviolence. He houses in his home poor students from all over Sikkim. We later learnt, over dinner, that the same man was the captain of the King’s army back when Sikkim was still a kingdom, before 1975.
Back at the internet café, as we were discussing going to Yuksom, we got interrupted by Marco, a Swiss traveler who was planning to trek from Yuksom to Tashiding. He wanted a ride, so we shared a jeep the next day. Marco was staying at Kabur, a small but very cozy and nicely decorated hotel that was apparently recommended by lonely planet. It was also the most happening place in town.
We stopped by the sacred lake then the majestic waterfalls before arriving to Yuksom, where we hiked up to Dubdi Monastery. We separated from Marco before Dubdi, as he embarked on a 4 hour trek.
The hike up to Dubdi was a slippery one over rocks and grass.
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| Kanchendzonga waterfalls |
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| Khecheopalri sacred lake |
Dubdi was not as spectacular as Pemagyantse and I kept asking Lina, a friend traveling with us (also Gaby’s nanny), to stop screaming. Apparently some insect was biting her and making her bleed. She was way too sensitive, suck it up! My legs were also bleeding and I am not complaining. My left leg was dripping blood but my right had some dried blood on it. Some weed cut, I figured.
We were on our way down when Lina screamed again. A worm had bitten her in the same spot between her toes and she was bleeding. I felt a bite too. Pain came from the dry blood on my right leg, then the dry blood started moving. It was not dry blood! It was a leech!! Ahhhh I started jumping. Lina was yelling. I was yelling. We were jumping up and down. Leeches were everywhere. On our slippers, between our toes, a total nightmare. We remove them, they attack again. More of them. They can’t be crushed. Ahhhhhhhhh! I managed to remove them and ran down the dangerous slippery hill. Two minutes later, I feel a bite. I stop. They are everywhere. I open my toes. They are in between all my toes. They are biting hard into my flesh and I struggle to pull them off. They then stick to my fingers, I wave my hand hard to get them off. Lina is now making noises that sound like laughs but her facial expression is of horror. Gaby was apologizing, sorry lina sorry lina so sorry lina, are you crying?
I was alone with my leeches. No one is coming to my rescue. I figured I should stop yelling, accept my situation. Yes they are deeply rooted in my flesh, yes they are sucking my blood, yes they are everywhere, yes I will open my toes and they will be there sucking on them. But yelling and jumping was not going help. I detached, the Buddhist way. I removed them one by one as I observed them from the outside, the Buddhist way, as if they are not on me. As I was blaming myself for wearing slippers, Gaby started dancing too, they had jumped on his shoes, gone through his laces and sneaked into his socks. And that is why some lucky Sikkimese person is now enjoying a pair of new running shoes. I took off a leech from Lina’s foot as we stepped into the car. The locals were amused by our encounter and surprised that we did not use the leech deadly weapon that is nothing but salt. Why the hell didn't anyone warn us??? Next time you're in the Himalayas during Monsoon, carry some salt, or maybe you can resort to crying or sweating but remember that surely there's no use for screaming.
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| on our way up to Dubdi (leeches were already creeping between our toes) |
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| little vampire |
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| Bite after-effects |
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