Chiwang said

Chiwang, our driver from Gangtok to North Sikkim, was quiet. Dusk fell in quick drapes; we were specks in a cosmos of lightless cliffs. As the road wound up, I asked him for words in his language. Three tongues are spoken in the area – Nepalese, Bhutia and Lepcha.
Next morning, he took us through a route of frame-shattering mountains, mortal clouds, and lusty streams, to a scene of paradise – Gurudongmar Lake; a vision I would revisit in my dreams. Habituated to living in urban India amidst sensory surfeit of saturated colours and a constant audio suite of cacophony, here was intense clarity and rawness, almost a bodily meditation. As if I was sitting in the dhyana mudra of giant hands and touching the world.
Descending from 17100 feet, we stopped to eat at a cottage. We watched intently as Dolma rolled momo dough and deftly shaped it out. She asked us what we were doing. Chiwang piped up, “All the other drivers ask, ‘Who are these three pretty girls you’re taking around?’ Girls roaming alone are unusual.” We laughed; by now we had a camaraderie. “I’m not joking, they ask every time we stop. You’ve come from other parts so you look different. Guys here find you very beautiful.” Women with Mongoloid features are considered pretty and exotic in parts where we abound and here it seemed the reverse. “I guess what’s around you is always less fun,” my friend deduced, “even we have hope, we just need to move here!” Dolma was amused. “Everyone asks about these fum sum.”
New words for us. “Fum sum?”
“Fum sum means three girls in Bhutia.”
Cut to our hotel manager in Gangtok who suggested this trail after gauging us as the adventurous type. Sedentary city-slickers, we hid our grins, but maybe my new trekking shoes gave him a different idea. Now we were the bold fum sum going where girls don’t usually go alone, fum sum exploring on a whim!
While finally parting, Chiwang said with earnest eyes, “Acha fum sum hai” – the three are nice girls. “That’s what I tell the others.”