Sonam is the name of the guy who owns the guest house where I was staying. It is not a first-class accommodation. There is no room service, nor is there running water. Heating is whatever clothes you have brought that are warm, or the fire in the kitchen. There is electricity, but no outside lights. The sky at night, when it's not cloudy, is brilliant. And the surrounding mountains remind me of home. All around there are animals, some of which provide food, others of which become food. There is a garden with all kinds of vegetables. Sonam's wife is a superb cook and the meals we had were incredible, both in wholesome taste and in quantity. Included in the fee to stay at the guest house was three square meals a day, and they were prodigious. We ate so much food, I think I must have put back on any weight I have lost in these past few months. But it was worth it. It was delicious. And the price for this amazing place was a mere 6 dollars a day (300 rupees). It was unbelievable.
After a rainy night, and an early one at around 10 o'clock, the morning was gray and cloudy. There had been some new arrivals the afternoon before and they had not seen the mountains around the area. They were all around the ridge where the little village with Sonam's guest house, but the mountains were hidden in the mists. We told the new arrivals that they were there, but I'm not entirely sure they believed us.
After an early rise and then breakfast, I decided to have a bit of a wander around the little village, to see what was there. Beyond the second guest house (which is right beside Sonam's guest house and is run by his father) is a small monastery with a rather large stupa (or whatever it would be called in Buddhism). Leading along the path to the monastery is a line of prayer flags on poles, in different colours. It made a nice sort of processional when walking along the path.
Karen, the Israeli woman who had told me about the guest house and the lake, came by and wondered about going down to the lake. Sarah, one of the new arrivals from the day before, decided she wanted to go as well. And I thought it would be good exercise, so I decided to go again as well. Down we went. This time, it was approaching midday, and that meant that the tourist hordes were already there and in a large pack. We sat at a little restaurant/cafe and drank some chai (spiced tea that is a specialty in India). Karen told us that at her guest house, she heard a story that someone had come down and had some vegetable momos, which are basically the Indian version of dumplings. Later the person died. I was a bit dubious. It sounded like some sort of exaggerated tale. If someone had really died, I would have thought the story would be all over the place. Nevertheless, Karen and I had eaten some vegetable momos down there when we had arrived and so it gave us pause. But that had been two days before, so I figured we were safe.
We waited and waited for the parade of tourist jeeps to slow down to a trickle, but it didn't happen. We thought it would have to be later in the day, but none of us wanted to wait that long, nor did we relish the thought of climbing up and then coming back down later. So we eventually gave up and just went in. I had been there without lots of people, so it didn't really bother me one way or the other, but it was too bad for Karen and Sarah. It was pretty much like the day before, only with more people, and it was overcast as well. And because of the rain, I had to contend with a few leaches as well. And this time I bought a ticket like a good little boy. So I now had the souvenir ticket with the story of lake and it's origins printed on the back.
Then it was back up the hill for lunch (which we had missed because we sat waiting for the tourist hordes to magically disappear). But they knew we were coming and heated it up for us when we got back. I loved that guest house. They were so nice. If anyone ever visits India and goes for jaunt to Sikkim, Sonam's guest house at Khecheperi Lake is highly, highly recommended.
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