Then, I came across this paragraph about a house in Kalimpong (quite close to Sikkim) in The Inheritance of Loss by Kiran Desai.
The house has been built long ago by a Scotsman, passionate reader of the accounts of that period: The Indian Alps and How We Crossed Them, by A Lady Pioneer. Land of the Lama. The Phantom Rickshaw. My Mercara Home. Black Panther of Singrauli. His true spirit has called to him, then, informed him that it, too, was wild and brave, and refused to be denied the right of adventure. As always, the price for such romance had been high and paid for by others. Porters had carried boulders from the riverbed-legs growing bandy, ribs curving into caves, backs into U’s, faces being bent slowly to look always at the ground-up to this site chosen for a view that could raise the human heart to spiritual heights.
It gave me some food for thought about our retirement dreams.
PS. My personal favorite still remains Ladakh. But I hear that Ladakh is getting too crowded now a days.
PPS. I guess it is now Spiti but I know I will never be able to retire to Spiti!