Across Rangpo Chu

Two roads diverged at Rorathang. In a yellow fog of a forest fire I watched one disappear around a bend as we took the other branch and crossed a bridge over the Rangpo river. A short climb and we pulled up for a break at a tea house.

There are many teahouses across this part of the country, a place for a short stop, or a very basic overnight stay. But not many can boast of a large concrete fish in front of it, complete with its own little concrete pool. A hill dog was very excited to see us and jumped on top of the fish to present his profile to us: a clear photo op. We paparazzi are always happy to click the king of the hills.

I took a look at the tea house. It had a typical layout. The place was divided into three areas: a kitchen at the back, a table for eating at the entrance, and next to it a small room where you could spend a night if you needed to. The toilet adjoining the tea house was kept clean by a boy who collected a small fee for its use. The lady who ran the tea house brewed up a cuppa as we stretched our legs.

A little roadside complex had begun to form around the tea house. Next to it was a car repair. With its stock of truck tires, it looked like it catered more to trucks than cars. No one was in evidence. I peeped in at the door cut into the the metal wall of the shack behind it to look. It was a typical workshop space, full of tools, and the smell of oil. Comfortable, and too dark for photos. Next to it was a small store. A couple came by on a scooter and the lady walked in to the shop while the man parked. They had set up a nice table outside. Was there enough custom here to compete with the tea house? Our tea was ready, so I walked back to it.

This post appears as scheduled while I am travelling. I’ll be connected, but may be slow to look at your comments and posts. I hope you will bear with my delays.