Then it got engulfed by India, which I assume was deemed preferable to the otherwise increasing possibility of it being engulfed by China. India's secular policy is just slightly more appealing.
But judging by India's border protection in the area, China's once stated recognition of Sikkim as part of India remains indefinite.
So thanks to BRO (Border Roads Organization), all the Sikkimese roads near China are as smooth as silk.
West Sikkim is otherwise a debatable assemblage of potholes and dirt; but BRO is a multipurpose organization, and I reckon their forte is more candidly the road slogans recognizable the whole state across.
The roads tend to form spirals around the mountain heads, making this my favourite yet: "Be Gentle on My Curves".
So into the meat of it.
Gangtok
Gangtok's the capital of Sikkim, a tiered city fully equipped with a gondola; one of the many parallels that bring me to allude Banff.
The place is affluent - the main street (another Mahatma Gandhi Marg, as marks one street in every city in India) is being renovated into a tiled path with Parisienne street lights.
There was an indefinite hunger strike stationed across from an internet establishment during my time in Gangtok. I failed to look into it.
Tsongmo Lake
A general permit is needed to enter Sikkim, which is fully enforced by writing your passport number in a looseleaf notebook and walking through a disinfectant mat akin to those trampled in the most esteemed mad cow scares in the western homeland.
Tsongmo Lake is about 30 km from the Tibet border in the East of Sikkim, and so it is a trip which constitutes an additional permit issued only to groups of four or more. So we chartered a jeep as a group of six.
We took BRO's long, winding roads there; which is when all the military camps became evident.
While the Bengali tourists seemed to be doing a good job of popularizing the activity of walking on thin ice; I decided to leave the opportunity down below with the yak rides and climb the mountain. Though I will attest that yaks are bigger than anticipated:
An assemblage of prayer flags leading up:
A moment to deter altitude asphyxiation at the last prayer flag checkpoint:
The lake below, at 3,780 meters. So I'd say this is a hundred or so more.
A picture from the highest place I've ever defecated. Tibet looms beyond the hills - a nice "edge of the world feeling", that is - before Lhasa was burning.
Pelling/Katcheopari/Yuksom
I took a jeep from Gangtok to Pelling, which is an exhaustingly dull hamlet of hotels that have erupted due to its (sometimes) jaw dropping view of Kachenjonga. Prayer Flags on concrete.
And some escorting up the path to the monasteries. I took a lot of pictures of prayer flags in Sikkim.
...and a hellipad that evoked my first salivation for skating on virgin pavement I've had in six months. But otherwise it was incentive to walk on, indeed.
From Pelling I walked to Katcheopari Lake and then to Yuksom.
Prayer flags and bridges - what a combination.
In Katcheopari Lake - a holy Tibetan lake next to a momo shack - I stayed at a family's word-of-mouth known guest house hidden at the top of the hill. Old man Pala was once apparently the Dalai Lama's cook; an idea we generally deemed as a conspiracy; for he's a man whose stories are more interesting the way he likes them. I liked his Beijing Olympics winter jacket myself.
His kids, are capricious ones. Yuni looked like a four year old nun; though the kind that uses sappy burning embers to burn holes in plastic bottle caps, so you don't have to remove the cap to drink the water. As for other areas of innovation: our rooms didn't have windows, just panels.
After Katcheopari it was off on foot to Yuksom - up a mountain, down a mountain through an array of Sikkimese houses, with teal being the colour of highest fashion.
But after a few days in the rural hamlet with more yaks and even more yak cheese; my head became increasingly concerned, more and more candidly, with an escape plan to get out of the country. Eventually, I came to many more stupas reminiscent of this one:
To making Kathmandu.
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