a hot, spicy dipping sauce and are a taste sensation. We wolf down three plates in moments
and the cook, in his mini kitchen with woks and steamers bubbling, is delighted by our, "Oh, ah, yum, yum, this-is-divine" noises. Momos, and everything else take- away, are served on small plates made of compressed leaves. Sikkim is proudly a plastic bag-free state. Do-Drul Chorten, one of many Buddhist
monasteries, is on a knoll in the forest. A tall white Tibetan pagoda reaches the sky. The wall around it holds hundreds of beautifully embossed, cylindrical metal prayer wheels and devotees circle it, clockwise, spinning the wheels as they go. Each cylinder contains a tightly wound scroll printed with prayers. The belief is that spinning the wheel, this ceaseless invocation, is just as effective as praying aloud. The sound of monks chanting wafts
around the pagoda. The dominant tone is deep base, like the distant rumble of thunder. This is punctuated by drums, blasts from a shrill trumpet and the ching, ching of symbols. Flowers, hundreds of flickering candles, bright prayer flags and a softly smiling Buddha make the inside of the temple visually beautiful. As we leave Do-Drul Chorten the
heavens open, lightening leaps from mountain to mountain and thunder roars. Robbie and I head back to the bazaar to continue shopping, but our woollen shawls are no match for this. By the time we get back to the hotel we are wet to the skin and shivery cold. Terry wakes first, clattering around our
three-bed room. I creep on to the freezing balcony and the Himalayas are glowing pearly white in an inky, star-fading dawn. Yes, this crystal morning is what we wished for and Khangchendzonga, – at 8598 metres it is the world's third highest peak – is a giant gleaming saw-tooth between earth and sky. Robbie is not her best on freezing
mornings so we loudly encourage her out of bed. Terry and I want to be higher in the mountains by the time the sun comes up. Stepped paths shortcut the roads and
lead us above Gangtok and into a dusting of snow that gets deeper as we climb. The sun touches the Himalayas first and they change from pearly to pink, the valleys
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