I turn around inside my sleeping bag for the umpteenth time, trying my hardest to keep warm. It’s cold inside the tent but I know it’scolder outside. I’d just been woken up yet again by the frigid air, and I ask,“What did I do to deserve this?”
Well, let’s see, I took more than three days to travel halfway across the country, crossing cities, villages, hills and rivers (literally) on a motorcycle, just to see a stationary body of water, known by many and seen by few, Lake Rara.
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