Ok, so I'm cheating now. We are back in Kolkata, and I could say loads about that, and probably will, but ...
What I'm hoping is that I can go back to this when I'm home, and fill in some gaps. But just in case I can't - this was yesterday, in Pelling...
Wednesday
To be honest, I didn't really care about coming to Pelling - we had a spare day or two after Gangtok and this was the suggestion, so we came.
And am I ever glad we did!
I'm sitting here in the last of the day's sunshine, with the most spectacular view I've ever seen in my life not just in front of me, or beside me, or behind me, but all around me! As we drove up here I kept thinking we couldn't get any higher, but we did. When we visited the ancient capital of Sikkim I felt like I was on the very top of the world, but today - I looked down on it!
In front of me is a town, incredibly perched on a hill that must be as high as Ben Nevis, and behind that is a higher hill, and behind that...
To my left are the lower foothills, behind me they start stretching up and out, and to my right - oh my word!!
There's a river snaking along the valley floor and all the lower hills are tree covered. Every tiny patch of flatfish land has paddy fields, bright lime green. Some of the ridges of the hills have houses along them, some a monastery on top, still others are shrouded in trees and cloud.
And to my right there's an ever-changing view of the Himalayas. Even the lower peaks have snow on them now. The clouds shift across them, revealing glimpses of impossibly high peaks, then cover them again and reveal more, higher peaks further along the range. At midday the clouds cleared almost completely and each look towards them revealed mountain after mountain, changing their shape and pattern as crags were obscured and revealed: Pandim, Siva, Norsingo, Kachenjunga.
And now they are hidden, as the sky begins to darken and rain threatens. But I know they are there.
And this tells you nothing of the fabulous monasteries; the claret robed young monks playing; the trek up higher than Yostemite's Half Dome; the young monk who had spent two stretches of three years, three months and three days in solitary meditation, with only his books for company and meals delivered unseen, who made us spiced cardamom tea and chanted us good luck and long life.
Its getting cold now, and almost time to go in. And tomorrow we head back to the chaos that is Kolkata, before going home.
No words. I'm going to sit here as long as I can, and soak it all in. (And I did).
What I'm hoping is that I can go back to this when I'm home, and fill in some gaps. But just in case I can't - this was yesterday, in Pelling...
Wednesday
To be honest, I didn't really care about coming to Pelling - we had a spare day or two after Gangtok and this was the suggestion, so we came.
And am I ever glad we did!
I'm sitting here in the last of the day's sunshine, with the most spectacular view I've ever seen in my life not just in front of me, or beside me, or behind me, but all around me! As we drove up here I kept thinking we couldn't get any higher, but we did. When we visited the ancient capital of Sikkim I felt like I was on the very top of the world, but today - I looked down on it!
In front of me is a town, incredibly perched on a hill that must be as high as Ben Nevis, and behind that is a higher hill, and behind that...
To my left are the lower foothills, behind me they start stretching up and out, and to my right - oh my word!!
There's a river snaking along the valley floor and all the lower hills are tree covered. Every tiny patch of flatfish land has paddy fields, bright lime green. Some of the ridges of the hills have houses along them, some a monastery on top, still others are shrouded in trees and cloud.
And to my right there's an ever-changing view of the Himalayas. Even the lower peaks have snow on them now. The clouds shift across them, revealing glimpses of impossibly high peaks, then cover them again and reveal more, higher peaks further along the range. At midday the clouds cleared almost completely and each look towards them revealed mountain after mountain, changing their shape and pattern as crags were obscured and revealed: Pandim, Siva, Norsingo, Kachenjunga.
And now they are hidden, as the sky begins to darken and rain threatens. But I know they are there.
And this tells you nothing of the fabulous monasteries; the claret robed young monks playing; the trek up higher than Yostemite's Half Dome; the young monk who had spent two stretches of three years, three months and three days in solitary meditation, with only his books for company and meals delivered unseen, who made us spiced cardamom tea and chanted us good luck and long life.
No words. I'm going to sit here as long as I can, and soak it all in. (And I did).
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