Pangong Lake was incredible--one of the most beautiful places I've
ever been. The lake is enormous and crosses over the Indian/Chinese
border. It's high in the mountains and appears completely pristine,
crisp and blue. Despite its size, there are no boats on the lake and
very few settlements by its shore--in fact, as far as I can tell it
seems the only real buildings around the lake are the few yurts,
shelters and restaurants open for tourists, and the minimal
infrastructure that maintains them. (Though, perhaps I'm wrong, as I
definitely saw some cows and goats up there--so there must also be some
farming going on too).
They say a picture is worth a thousand words and so I will leave you just with the below. (I obviously took a bazillion photos, but if you want more check out my fb album--or just google Pangong Lake).
Now, I get that listening to someone fawn on and on about a mountain lake is probably not what you all came to my blog on this fine day to read about. So, instead I will leave you with some non-rapturous vignettes regarding my evening, night and morning at Pangong Lake.
Vignette: Unrealized by The Boyfriend and myself, the day we were at Pangong Lake was India's Independence Day. This probably explains the fact that when we went to the main eating building for our cluster of yurts the TV mounted in the corner was playing a crazy-patriotic war movie. I don't speak Hindi, but this was the plot: brave Indian soldier, with a machine gun in one hand and the Indian flag in the other, single-handed defeats a battalion of enemy soldiers. He keeps running towards the enemy even after he has been shot at least 6 times in the chest towards his arch-nemesis. Despite being literally riddled with bullets, he and the arch-nemesis engage in hand to hand combat. Our hero falls, but his place is taken by a younger compatriot (his son?) who finishes Mr. Arch Nemesis off, before planting the Indian flag firmly on the recovered land. (And don't worry too much about the fate of our hero--in the very next scene he is shown with nothing more than a broken arm, kissing a very beautiful and much younger female).
The Indian audience sharing our dining yurt loved it!
Vignette: The yurt next to us was hosting a singalong, with about ten people dreamily singing their favorite Indian ballads to the strumming of a soft guitar. Taking advantage of the music drifting on the breeze and the incredible night sky, The Boyfriend and I start to dance. It is very romantic and very dark. In the middle of a dramatic flourish, I step back and fall into a ditch. (Well, almost--The Boyfriend jerked me back to safety before any real damage was done). We decide real romance consists of trying to find a wireless signal while cozily tucked into a yurt bed.
Vignette: It's 9:45pm and those mofos next door are still singing--they've moved onto Bollywood pop songs now, and someone seems to have produced a synthesizer. (Did they bring that with them? Where the hell does one get a synthesizer in the middle of the Himalayas?) The Boyfriend and I engage in a heated discussion about whether 9:45pm is too early to, in good conscience, ask your high-spirited neighbors to shut the hell up. I suggest that, considering how early we wanted to get up the next day and considering that once I took off my clothes to take the bucket shower offered by the yurt bathroom there was no way I was going back outside, it was now or never. The Boyfriend points out that 9:45pm is really early. Fortunately, the guardian angel of our relationship bliss was looking out for us and, magically, the music and the synthesizer stopped.
Vignette: We take a delightful morning walk around the lake, discussing philosophy, art, science and our friends who have terrible facebook etiquette. Good times, good times.
They say a picture is worth a thousand words and so I will leave you just with the below. (I obviously took a bazillion photos, but if you want more check out my fb album--or just google Pangong Lake).
Now, I get that listening to someone fawn on and on about a mountain lake is probably not what you all came to my blog on this fine day to read about. So, instead I will leave you with some non-rapturous vignettes regarding my evening, night and morning at Pangong Lake.
Vignette: Unrealized by The Boyfriend and myself, the day we were at Pangong Lake was India's Independence Day. This probably explains the fact that when we went to the main eating building for our cluster of yurts the TV mounted in the corner was playing a crazy-patriotic war movie. I don't speak Hindi, but this was the plot: brave Indian soldier, with a machine gun in one hand and the Indian flag in the other, single-handed defeats a battalion of enemy soldiers. He keeps running towards the enemy even after he has been shot at least 6 times in the chest towards his arch-nemesis. Despite being literally riddled with bullets, he and the arch-nemesis engage in hand to hand combat. Our hero falls, but his place is taken by a younger compatriot (his son?) who finishes Mr. Arch Nemesis off, before planting the Indian flag firmly on the recovered land. (And don't worry too much about the fate of our hero--in the very next scene he is shown with nothing more than a broken arm, kissing a very beautiful and much younger female).
The Indian audience sharing our dining yurt loved it!
Vignette: The yurt next to us was hosting a singalong, with about ten people dreamily singing their favorite Indian ballads to the strumming of a soft guitar. Taking advantage of the music drifting on the breeze and the incredible night sky, The Boyfriend and I start to dance. It is very romantic and very dark. In the middle of a dramatic flourish, I step back and fall into a ditch. (Well, almost--The Boyfriend jerked me back to safety before any real damage was done). We decide real romance consists of trying to find a wireless signal while cozily tucked into a yurt bed.
Vignette: It's 9:45pm and those mofos next door are still singing--they've moved onto Bollywood pop songs now, and someone seems to have produced a synthesizer. (Did they bring that with them? Where the hell does one get a synthesizer in the middle of the Himalayas?) The Boyfriend and I engage in a heated discussion about whether 9:45pm is too early to, in good conscience, ask your high-spirited neighbors to shut the hell up. I suggest that, considering how early we wanted to get up the next day and considering that once I took off my clothes to take the bucket shower offered by the yurt bathroom there was no way I was going back outside, it was now or never. The Boyfriend points out that 9:45pm is really early. Fortunately, the guardian angel of our relationship bliss was looking out for us and, magically, the music and the synthesizer stopped.
Vignette: We take a delightful morning walk around the lake, discussing philosophy, art, science and our friends who have terrible facebook etiquette. Good times, good times.
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