Six months ago, I made an impulse booking to Leh in October with my friend. It was only March and both of us were in the zone of “who knows what’s life gonna be like by October”!”

Mind you, we were fully aware of the weather condition just waiting to turn brutal as the valley prepares itself for its harsh winters. But we were young and alive, so we had to just go with it.

Months passed and the day came like a rush of cold air you do not expect to hit your face. With utmost surety that I’m terribly unprepared for whatever it is that awaits me at Ladakh, I packed and repacked and unpacked my bags many times settling for borrowed warm boy clothes over new expensive lady clothes.

I read hundreds of blogs, read dozens of tips and tricks articles, did everything to make sure I am strong enough to brave nature it all its glory.

One meltdown, three trips to decathlon and many stressfully exciting nights later I took the flight journey I hate the most. To Delhi, a 2.5 hour long flight which made me nauseous and depraved, followed by the dismal food at T2, a sad excuse for paneer paratha for which I paid 240 INR. PLEASE do not ask me why I ate paneer paratha at 3:30 a.m. in an airport. I’m weird like that. If anyone of you can relate to this, give me a shout out. I’ll feel better about this.

Anyways, I met my friend after ages and all we wanted to do get to Leh after our sleepless night full of disappointing food. The flight started left at 6:30, and that’s the moment I chose to fall asleep. Oh did I tell you I paid extra money to buy a seat on the left side to make sure I catch a glimpse of the trans Himalayas. It just so happened I chose the worst seat of all the left seats. I booked the window seat directly above the wings and my view was half obstructed all the time. But me being me, that is someone who rarely admits she wrong, I quickly made peace with this grave error and focused on half the view the window kindly gave me.

Yes, I’ve seen multiple photos and videos of the snow-filled mountain caps from the flight to Leh, but nothing, nothing prepared me for its greatness and magnificence. It is the moment where you surrender yourself to the last drop of your ego. It’s the moment you realize you are not a tourist, you are not a traveller, hell you are nothing. You are a tiny tiny tiny fly looking at the universe from an aeroplane, while you should be bowing down at the Himalayan range, with your eyes closed and your hands clasped.

After a lot of gasping and shocking views, I saw a glimpse of patchy vegetation and assumed that must be the town of Leh. We hovered through mini-streams of water, tall towering trees, and the sunlit mountain caps, and finally began the descent. Let me just say flight landings are never gonna be the same for me. 🙂 I’ll post an edited video of the landing soon.

Our homestay partner was waiting for us with the board to recognize the tourists. He was curt, helped with my bag and walked very fast towards the car, while I struggled to keep up waiting for AMS to show symptoms. Like I said, I had prepared for the worst. I had been taking Diamox two days before the trip, and I had taken after the horrible paneer paratha at the Delhi airport before we took off.

The air hit us with its ruthless chill and in spite of my jacket and gloves and snow boots, I turned a strange shade of crimson, which my friend found really funny. After a few Chennai girl in Ladakh jokes, we were in our cab and well on our way to our homestay which was in upper Changspa, Leh. This is a homestay at a higher altitude from the Leh Market and is approximately 2.3 Kms from the market. The homestay is rustic, and the pathway was stony and charming, just the way mountain homes are, built for harsh weather conditions with no empathy. It was surrounded by tall poplar trees against the backdrop of the mighty Himalayas. The homestay owners father who came to pick us up asked us to rest in the common room while his mother insisted we have hot tea. I was expecting the ladakhi butter tea, but it was clear that the tourists preferred the regular version. We asked if we could taste it and my host’s mother was kind enough to oblige. I loved the taste of butter tea, it was fatty, full of salt and exactly what the weather demanded.

We also had a taste of the apricot jam and the yak cheese both hugely popular in the region. After lazing around in the sunlight for an hour or so, we decided to retire to the room. We enquired for breakfast but they weren’t ready with it since we hadn’t informed them beforehand. Nevertheless, they were kind enough to accommodate and asked us some time to get bread from the market. After multiple warnings to stay put for the day and get acclimatized, we left for our room that was one level below and surrounded by ethereal trees for as far as I could see. The room was quite large and had direct access to sunlight, and a view of the slender poplar trees and the blue skies.

Though it was not carpeted, and my feet were in shock the moment I removed my shoes, even though I was wearing socks. By this time, the dry cold had started to show its effect on my humidity loving skin, and I was turning a shade that was a patchy mix of blue, violet and red. Not pretty!

The sleeplessness from the previous night hit me and I was in a dilemma whether to sleep or to wait for breakfast. So I decided to lay down till that happens, and it did after half an hour. Breakfast was a modest affair of eggs fried in butter and a regular loaf of market bread that was toasted with Amul butter and apricot jam.

I quickly finished this and fell asleep for a nap. At around 3 in the afternoon, we woke up and started walking. By walking I mean, my friend walking and me catching my breath every few seconds. Though I was on a dose of Diamox, I could clearly see the effects of low oxygen and its manifestations. Even walking for 5mins became hard, my head started pounding every few minutes and I gasped for air many times. Nevertheless, I dragged on, eager to catch up with my friend who kept turning back and looking at me like the hare looked at the tortoise.

We walked around 2 km to reach the main market of Leh, looked around, bought some essentials and had thenthuk and thukpa both on the same day. Both were average compared to the other ones I ate after that day. But on that particular cold evening, it was comforting to have it a cup of masala chai. As it got colder, I got sicker and the walk back to the homestay in that cold with my fever gave me shudders. The sadder thing was there was no access to teashops near my homestay to makes feel better. So we began the long walk uphill back to where we were put up with my friend leading the way and me huffing and puffing coming to terms with my relationships with the mountains.

When we came back, I requested the homestay person to give us some hot water in the thermos, and the words that came out of his mouth were “but our kitchen is closed now” , and this was the point I knew I’m not gonna like this place, a place that thinks twice to give you hot water at -2 degree Celsius.

My face dropped, he reconsidered this statement and agreed to give me some hot water. I went to bed dressed in three layers, slathered in Vicks and mustard oil and tossed and turned under three heavy blankets only to wake up with a higher fever and a bonus backache.

So day 1 at Leh was confusing, hostile, cold as fuck with a tinge of sickness. 🙁