Advertisement
Bhutan
In a land open to television only a decade ago, Bhutan often seems a step out of time Quickie:
I was cool, now I am hot
Next I figure to give Mumbai a shot
Had a great time in the Thunder Dragon
As I am now surrounded by many a rickshaw wagon
Longer version
As I write today, I am in the city of Jaipur, India, which, with Delhi and Agra, composes the popular Golden Triangle tourist route. Set on the edge of India's desert state, Rajastan, Jaipur in May feels a bit like standing next to a grill during a cookout, in a down jacket, after running sprints, on a highway, at high noon. In other words, I'm a bit warm. Despite my location for the past few days, today's entry will focus, instead, on Bhutan, where we spent the last week plus prior to our arrival here in the Pink City. And because discussing Bhutan and Jaipur in the same breath is akin to an op-ed about Britney Spears and the housing crisis, the latter location will be postponed.
There is no other place in the world quite like Bhutan. Wedged between India and China, this sleepy Himalayan kingdom boasts fewer residents than the greater Boston area. (An aside: often Bhutan is referred to the
Tiger's Nest
Perched on a narrow cliff high above Paro town, this monastery was built after a popular Guru flew to this cliff on the back of a tiger Magical Kingdom, but to me that sounds too much like Orlando, Florida; another nickname is Land of the Thunder Dragon, which is awesome, except for the fact that this tiny country is squeezed between two of the three largest global superpowers, it's a bit like a skinny freshmen running his mouth to two bullies from inside the locker he was stuffed in- "Oh yeah? Well you just messed with the Thunder Dragon!") Its capital, Thimphu, claims to be the only in the world without a street light., traffic directed instead by a member of the local police. It's the only country in the world that measures success in Gross National Happiness (though with the introduction of TV and internet ten years ago, the country now faces unprecedented pressure from globalization, great NY Times article here: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/05/07/world/asia/07bhutan.html?_r=1&emc=eta1)
Facts aside, the brief detour from India consisted of a 5 day trek, famously known as the Druk Path, bookended by a couple days in Bhutan's most populated cities, Paro and Thimphu (populated, of course, a relative term). In contrast to Nepal, Bhutan has remained largely unexplored and untouched by the west, due in part to the daily tourist tarriff and strict visa
Entouage
Traveling in style! Guides, cooks, horsemen and us (not pictured: six mules and one horse) regulations. What it lacks in accessibility ease, though, it makes up for with the services given within country. Accompanying us on the 30+ mile trek were two guides, two cooks, two horsemen, and 7 pack animals to shlep the necessary supplies, a far cry from the ramen noodles and heavy packs we're all used to while enjoying the back country. Averaging six miles per day, the trip was a relaxing balance between endurance and relaxation, providing plenty of time for exploring hillsides and monasteries, reading and reflection, tea and the best "trail food" I've had.
So, with all the assistance included (which I am able to justify as positive by employing local people and animals alike) our only task was to wake up, and enjoy the sights and sounds (or lack thereof) in Bhutan's mountains. Common sights were expansive vistas of distant peaks, evergreen forests that turned into barren rock landscapes as we cleared the treeline (and 11,00 feet), and yaks and their nomadic herders, sprinkling hillsides and sharing campsites with us as we ambled through their world. (Also, an uncommon site: After waking up and having breakfast our first morning on the Druk Path, a herd of yaks
Room with a view
Not a bad place to hang our hat attempted to make their way through our campsite. Spooked by a large blue tarp our horsemen left on the ground, the yaks left their ranks and began to wander in aimless direction. The herder, in turn, was less than impressed and unleashed a mountain of Bhutanese french on our party, followed by a decent sized rock, hurled at one of our cooks (missed, luckily). Enter horseman, himself short of temper, picking up a metal pole- a tent attachment- and storming after the heated herder. Fortunately, the flared tempers resulted in zero injuries, and the yaks probably had a good yak over it later. But a bit of irony in a land that prides itself on gross national happiness, no?)
One notable spot we visited was the Tiger's Nest, a monastery built high up on a narrow cliff, its precarious position an awe-inspiring sight, one of those places that inflates anyone's ego who happens to have a camera (even this Ansel Ansin). Having been exposed to many a monastery of late, easily it is the Tiger's Nest that stands on it's own as the most spiritual and memorable.
In what is also becoming a trend, my second hike on
Sadly, no more horsing around
Despite their best efforts, the only thing we could give was comfort this side of the world again involved an injured animal encounter (the first being the Motrin-treated bird). On day 2, while combing the mountainside for our campsite, we cut off the normal trail and happened upon a struggling horse, likely- I'm told by locals- poisoned from eating the wrong plant. In distress, the horsemen and our guides did all they could to help it, but in the end, the only option was comforting the animal in its final minutes, its life fading before us. A somber tone in a usually (and hopefully) fun-to-read journal, but for me it was certainly a vivid reminder of life's fragility, and, even if we often take it for granted, we're not here for a long time, life is fleeting, and today is the youngest you are ever going to be. Carpe Diem.
Well over halfway though this trip, just over three weeks to go and it's off to Mumbai tonight. Carrying you all in my thoughts, many thanks for putting up with my amateur writing. I just finished the Last Lecture (put it at the top of your list if you've yet to read it) and the dying author talks often of "head
This one's for North Face
Momma yak stops to let her baby have a drink in front of our tent fakes." Applicable here, as I share with you all, this is just as much about my own internal processing as it is intended to include family and friends in this experience.
Warmly, very warmly, even as the sun begins to set in Jaipur,
Kris
Advertisement
Tot: 0.112s; Tpl: 0.012s; cc: 9; qc: 46; dbt: 0.077s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.1mb
grandma
non-member comment
wonderful picts and writing, Kris!
Beguiled with your descriptions and so glad you have this opportunity to etch these images into your mind and soul. Recently got "Water", on Netflix and it tells the story India's widows, forced to live shriveled, sequestered lives or else kill themselves on their husbands' funeral pyres or, if the family is willing, marry the dead husband's younger brother. Macabre, but it is a love story. Powerful. An unhappy but not hopeless ending. Do see it sometime. Miss you and oh, did I say I miss you?????