Tiger Tale
May 12th
According to Bhutanese lore, Guru Rinpoche came to Paro flying on the back of a tigress, where he subdued the local demons and meditated in cave perched high on a cliff.
It was in that improbable and impractical spot that a monastery was built. The Taktsang Lahkang, also known the Tiger’s Nest, is one of the most popular places to visit in Bhutan, both by visitors and locals. Similar to the haj to Mecca, Bhutanese Buddhists try to make a pilgrimage here at least once in their lives.
The two-hour journey to the monastery is difficult, especially for those unaccustomed to the altitude — around 10,000 feet. The footpath is unforgivingly vertical most of the way there. At the halfway point and with a great vie if the monastery, a cafeteria serves tea, coffee and soft drinks to the weary.
Despite the distance still separating us from the cliff-hugging monastery, we can hear monks chanting across the divide. “It sounds like bees,” says one man, who is prostrate on a wooden bench at the rest stop trying to catch his breath.
The repeating mantra being carried by the wind soon becomes the motivation for each tiny step we take as we inch closer to the “finish line.” The trail flattens out for short while, but then we are confronted by a staircase that descends steeply to the bottom of a waterfall, then climbs to the base of the monastery, where we must leave our earthly possessions behind. Once cameras and mobile phones are stowed in a locker, the fashion policeman at the entrance ensures we are presentable. Today, he is especially vigilant because three high lamas are in residence for an important ceremony honoring a deceased lama. Button up your jacket, take off your sunglasses, drape your scarf around your neck like so. Once we’ve passed inspection, we are greeted with more steps up to the main temple, which covers the cave in which Guru Rinpoche meditated. It is in this room, standing in front of this very important shrine when we are joined by one of the high lamas himself, dressed in orange robes. He chants and prostrates in front of the golden figure at the altar.
The last visit we make is to the tiger den itself. I shimmy between two rock walls into a dark crevasse, climb down a hand-hewn ladder and stop to let the light adjust. I am in the cliff with a monk, who points down below and says three is a tiger’s nest there and another over there.
“Would you like to go down?” He asks.
I am feeling a touch of vertigo and reply with a resounding “no.” I beg him to go first and he wedges himself between the rocks and, with his hands and bare feet, walks down the rock wall to a window in the rock that reveals a vertical drop to the valley below. I back away slowly and retreat up the ladder and then finally back down the mountain.
It was a spectacular end to an incredible journey to Bhutan. We went out with a roar.
On the path to enlightenment
May 9th
At the Kurjey Lakhang, a monastery in Buthang, I am literally stuck between a rock and a hard place. Well, just two rocks. If I can squeeze through the small opening between them, it means I have a purer soul than those who cannot pass. I feel like I am in an Indiana Jones film and one wrong move will mean I’ve “chosen poorly.”
Having already passed the test, Chris, Kevin and Sheila offer words of encouragement and although I am convinced that I must be a sinner, I manage to get down on the ground and contort my body enough to get halfway through. The rest comes easy.
The first lesson learned: good karma is reserved for skinnier people.
Siddhartha went through a series of tests before he achieved enlightenment and became known as Buddha. Bhutanese Buddhists challenge themselves in various ways, too. It could be the number of times they circumambulate a temple in a clockwise direction, how many times they recite a mantra — it could be a million times per week — or squeeze themselves into a small space.
Another test awaited us at the Kenchosum Lakhgang, where we were challenged to carry 50 pounds of metal draped around our shoulders and circle the temple. The cape was chainmail that once belonged to the founding lama of the monastery in the 15th century. After we tried it, four young monks followed suit.
Lesson learned: outer strength must equal inner strength.
We had one last challenge to overcome today. We were running late getting to Trongsa to visit the national museum. Our driver raced along the twisty one-lane highway until we reached the Tower of Trongsa, a 500-year-old defense tower that houses Bhutanese history and Buddhist artifacts.
We made it just in time and as we walked through the museum, we were introduced to thousands of demons, saints and deities. Some characters — such as Guru Rinpoche — had many manifestions. It was hard to keep them all straight. Just as challenging is trying to remember all the monasteries and dzongs we’ve visited during our visit to Bhutan.
I just hope there’s not a test.
Sneak Peak: Two nights on top of the world
May 8th
After having been car-bound for several days, we looked forward to reaching new heights with the three-day, two-night “Owl Trek,” which starts in the foothills of the Himalayas outside of the town of Bumthang in Bhutan. We weren’t quite sure what to expect, so when we pulled up to the starting point, we were a bit surprised. There were nine horses, three horseman and two cooks waiting for, according to Sheila, “four very spoiled tourists.”
After hiking straight uphill for two hours, we were looking foward to being spoiled a little. We huffed and puffed, trying to muster the strength to look up briefly from the difficult, uneven terrain to look at the beauty around us. The trail was protected by a thick canopy of fir and juniper trees overshadowing bamboo and brightly colored rhododendrums. Wildflowers and moss blanketed the forest floor.
Our guide, Chungdu, announced it was time for a break and we collapsed in a sunny spot next to a broken fence, trying to dodge cow patties on our way down. We all napped for a bit until the cook and assistant cook took out metal containers from an insulated carrying case and began dishing them into plates they’d carried on their backs. Rice. Noodles. Fiddleheads in cheese. Chicken.
The satisfaction of having a full belly was soon lost because we had two more hours of vertical climbing to go. Off we went. “Baby steps,” Chungdu told us. Apparently, we went faster than expected, because after 90 minutes, we pulled ourselves over the last tree stump. To the left, the snow-capped peaks in the distance; to the right, the beautiful sight of Camp Shonath at 10,000 feet. I couldn’t wait to get my backpack off, so off to camp I went. I could hear Sheila ask, “When are we going to see the highest peak in Bhutan?”
“Maybe tomorrow if it’s clear,” replies Chungdu.
I soon crawled into my home away from home and took a nap just as a cold rain began to fall. When I emerged again, the rain had stopped and it was starting to get dark. Some of the camping crew was in the midst of a game of lawn darts. I played a bit, too, then sat in the yak-herder’s shelter nearby chatting with Karma, the horseman, via translation by Chungdu.
After a delicious meal, we were handed hot-water bottles — best invention EVER — and took them to our tents to keep us warm throughout the night. The temperatures dropped below freezing and I lay shivering most of the night, although my feet were toasty warm.
More trekking uphill awaited us in the morning, which was bright and sunny. But it didn’t stay that way. After reaching Drangela Pass and having lunch at a yak-herder’s camp, the weather started to turn. Bhutan’s highest peak, which would have been visible at this point, was veiled by thick gray clouds. Sleet and hail began to pelt us, lightly at first. It quickly turned into a steady downpour of millimeter-thick chunks of ice that began to accumulate underfoot. Lightening and thunder surrounded us and we quickly made our descent to camp, which was located close to three mountain-perched monasteries named Zambhalha, Choedrak and Tharpaling.
The freak snowstorm dumped almost two inches of snow and it blanketed our tents. The clothes we brought were not enough to keep us warm, and since campfires are illegal in Bhutan, the only way to warm ourselves was by holding mugs of hot water in our hands.
I couldn’t wait until the moment I would finally get my hot water bottle and be able to go to bed, even though I wasn’t tired. With four layers of clothing, a scarf and mittens, I crawled in my mummy-shaped sleeping bag accompanied by the hot-water bottle and fell asleep.
Footsteps crunching outside my ice-covered tent roused me from my slumber. I dreaded the cold air that was waiting to greet me. Yes, it was cold, but the sun was shining and blue skies surrounded us.
After an early breakfast, we planned to hike back up the moutainside from where we had come the day before. Taking care not to slip on the ice and mud — a dangerous combination — we slowly made our way to 12,000 feet and came to rest next to a grove of prayer flags that stood high above the first and second valleys of the Bumthang region. From this vantage point, we could finally see Gangkar Punsum, which at 24,837 feet high, is Bhutan’s highest peak and the world’s highest unclimbed peak. It is a sacred mountain and climbing it is illegal. Until now it had eluded us, but after days of waiting we finally had good fortune.
To spread the good luck, we made an offering to the gods where we stood at the top of the ridge. We hoisted two Peruvian finger puppets on a stick that is normally reserved for a prayer flag. We bid them goodbye and made our way back down the mountain . . . closer and closer to a warm, cozy bed.
Festival Frenzy
May 5th
Bhutan is known for its cultural festivals. The Paro Teschu, by far, is the most popular, but there are others that take place throughout the country. We timed our visit around the Ura Yakchoe festival, which can be best described as a church bazaar meets small-town fair, except everyone dresses in their finest threads.
We arrive by hiking from a pass high above the village of Ura. The hour-long descent followed a well-worn, steep path. Our guide, Chungdu, has never been to this festival before. “It’s not very well known, he says as we walk. “It’s mostly for the locals.”
He goes on to explain that the festival celebrates the local brew, which is made from various grains. On the first day of the festival, the villages consume an entire vat of the liquid and get a little crazy. The buzz had (sort of) worn of a little by day five.
Just before reaching Ura, we begin to hear drumming and people celebrating. There is a row of tents lining the entrance to the temple that have carnival-like games of chance. However, most of the action takes place in a large square at the local temple. Families sit around the perimeter to watch. Men with lips and teeth stained red from betel nut are laughing, kids are running around with whistles and toy guns and the women in front of me are partaking of whisky.
We watched a ritual being performed by a group of men wearing masks that represent various demons. The men gather around a table placed at the center of the square. On the table are several phallus statues made out of butter, a powdery substance and pots of liquid. The men dance wildly and threw the powder at each other. Then, the main figure picks up a statue and, with the other masked men, turns toward the crowd, first approaching a tall European man. The statue was held over his head, then his left and right shoulders and finally, held in front of his crotch. He wasn’t the only one to receive this treatment. Soon it was it my turn, too. I also got a dowsing of powder, although my attacker was careful not get it in my eyes.
The grand finale involved throwing the phallus statues on the roofs of buildings on each side of the square and piercing one final statue with a knife and throwing it to the ground. The local dogs found the butter to be rather tasty.
More performances took place throughout the day. Many were quite interactive. A clown-like character with a bamboo stick would run around swatting people in his way.
“It’s a blessing,” says Chungdu. I am not sure I believe him, because most people are trying to dodge the stick.
Toward the end of our visit, an entire group of young boys wearing masks, beating on drums and wielding sticks ran into the square to chase off the brightly colored dancing demons. One by one, the demons were chased away until there were none. The drummers then turned their sights on the crowd.
We took that as our cue to leave, but not before I received on last “blessing.”
One adventure after another
May 5th
My morning started with Sheila singing “Happy Birthday” at 3 a.m. We were both wide awake, listening to the rain fall outside. By the morning light, we could see freshly fallen snow in the mountains outside our window and soon we’d be right in the midst of it all — or so we think. Once in the van, our guide, Chungdu, gets a phone call and I hear him say ‘road blockage’ in the midst of a stream of foreign words.
Overnight, heavy rainfall had caused a landslide that was no blocking the only road from east to west — the same road we’re traveling today. We have no way of knowing how long the damaged section would be closed and yet we continued along anyway.
Not knowing how long we might be delayed, we took extra-long ‘picture stops’ — the first at Laoola Pass. The snow we’d seen from afar was now underfoot, crackling as it melted. Not soon after we were back in the van, driver Bichnu calls out that he’s spotted a monkey. One langur turned into 20 langurs, which multiplied into 30-plus langurs sitting, playing and eating on the slope above us. Chungdu told us this was a rare sighting. “They are almost never seen,” he says. “It’s very auspicious and we will have good luck today.”
I do feel lucky to be able to spend my birthday in Bhutan and we will all need as much luck as we can get today as we navigate our way toward the town of Trongsa.
At another mountain pass, we come across some nomadic yak herders selling textiles. My birthday present was hanging on a line made of rope strung between two sticks. I bought the yak-hair bag and played with the vendor’s son who giggled joyously as I chased him around his mother’s skirt. We waved goodbye and once again we were on the move.
After lunch, it was another 45 minutes to the road closure and when we arrived, a line of 30 cars were waiting for the bulldozer to remove obstacles from the road. A group of Indian truck drivers were playing a game on a board drawn in the dirt, while debris crashed down the moutainside nearby. The noise of large boulders careening down the slope is not one you’d soon forget.
The truck at the head of the line had been there since the night before, but we were there only 45 minutes before the traffic police began letting one car at a time travel through what was left of the road. A heavy rain began to fall, adding a level of treachery to the task.
I held my breath when it was our turn. The moutainside was still unstable and I imagined the worst possible scenario, as I stared into the abyss that was just inches away from the van’s tires.
I finally exhaled on the other side. The rain subsided and the only thing that remained was a fully formed rainbow in the valley below.
My birthday couldn’t have been more amazing — and it was only 3:30 p.m. I was sure I’d had my cake and eaten it, too — that is, until later when the hotel wait staff brought out a real one pierced with three paper prayer flags and two candles. Chungdu presented a gift on behalf of the tour company and we all toasted with Bhutanese beer). As I blew out the candles, I didn’t know what to wish for. I’ve already found the pot of gold. Hopefully my wish will pay it forward.
The Thunder Dragon Awakens
May 4th
Most visitors to Bhutan don’t venture beyond Punakha, the Divine Madman’s stronghold, but on ward we go, climbing higher and higher into the Himalayas toward the Phobjikha Valley, which Lotay of Bridge to Bhutan describes as one of his favorite places to hike.
The immense valley is home to black-necked cranes that winter here. The large birds have already returned to Tibet, but the area is still worthy of a visit. On the way, the narrow road twists and turns through a lush semi-tropical landscape, which is surprising at this elevation. Gigantic rhododendrums with pink flowers line the roadway and we are able to catch our first glimpse of the high peaks of the Himalayas in the distance.
On the other side of the pass we’ve just reached, the landscape changes again. This time there are fields upon fields of dwarf bamboo stretching down to the valley below. From the Gangtey Goemba, a private monastery, we begin a two-hour hike that leads downhill (thank goodness) to the valley floor. Sunny at first, the clouds close in around us and we feel a few manageable sprinkles. Then the thunder roars.
We are joined by three boys on their way home from school. Since we’re heading in the same direction, we end up walking together for quite a ways, stopping to take pictures of each other and skipping rocks. One of the boys lost a tooth along the way and showed it to me. Not sure if the Bhutanese have a tooth fairy, I asked him if it was good luck to lose a tooth. “No, you are good luck,” he says as he tossed the tooth up in the air and continued on. I guess that answered my question as to whether he might receive a coin under his pillow.
After they turned off the path to head up to their home on the hill, the trail narrows while entering a grove of tall pines that protect the delicate wildflowers, wild berries and lichens on the forest floor.
The scenery is too beautiful to rush. The other folks in our party are way ahead, hoping to stay dry, but Sheila and I stop to “smell the roses.”
By the time reach the forest’s edge, there is a downpour and we’re completely soaked, but we are on vacation and we probably won’t ever come back here in our lifetimes, so we continue to slowly trudge along, soaking in more than just the rain. The expansive view. The crisp, clean air.
So, once we reach the van, Sheila and I want to keep going all the way to the lodge. Kevin and Chris climb in the van and we feel free at last, only because we’ve been on a strict schedule on the trip so far.
The two of us hike up to the village. When the rain worsens, we duck into the Nim Dorji General Shop Cum Bar and share a cola, while watching the world go by. Most everyone was inside, but there were a few people, cows and dogs still on the street.
Eventually, we head out again and climb the hillside to the beautifully painted lodge. We’re huffing and puffing as we reach the dining area where everyone is gathered around a fire-breathing stove that doubles as a toaster, coffee warmer and later, the only source of light when the generator suddenly stopped.
The rain and thunder continued on through the night. The wood-burning stoves in our rooms kept us warm as long as we kept the fire stoked.
We have learned the true power of the Thunder Dragon.
Body and Soul
May 3rd
Sheila and I are giggling like school girls when we walk past a souvenir shop called Phallus Handicrafts — the exterior walls covered with phallic drawings.
I am sure we aren’t the only ones who react that way. I was recently listening to an interview with actor Jason Segel about shooting a nude scene in the film “Forgetting Sarah Marshall.” He said: “Full-frontal male nudity is always funny. Whether it’s in a film or in real life, I get laughed at when I get naked.”
So, I mean no disrespect for the Bhutanese culture, but it’s highly unusual and, frankly a little bit funny, to see homes with drawings of male appendages near the front door, which are meant to ward off evil spirits and bring good fortune to those who reside there.
Punakha, in Bhutan’s Mo Chu valley, is ground zero for phallic imagery, thanks to the unorthodox teachings of a 16th-century Tibetan monk named Lama Drukpa Kunley, who settled here to spread his version of Buddhism, while spreading his seed among other men’s wives. On one occasion, he received a blessing thread to wear around his neck, but he wrapped it around his appendage instead, hoping it would bring him luck with the ladies.
“My meditation practice is girls and wine,” he once said. “I do whatever I feel like, strolling around in the Void.”
Some might call him a genius, but he is most commonly referred to as “The Divine Madman.” He is one of Bhutan’s most-loved saints and the Chimi Lhakhang Temple in this fertile valley, was built in his honor. Women having difficulty conceiving will stand before his golden statue to receive a blessing (known as a wang) from a monk acting on his behalf.
Since Chris and I are adopting (hopefully and finally this year), we thought it might be worth a try to get blessed, but we have to wait because another hopeful woman has taken the penis-shaped talisman and is circumnavigating the temple in a clockwise direction. When she returns, the monk hands her a set of die and she has three chances to roll an auspicious number combination. It took all three tries, but it didn’t look she got the answer she was seeking. Nonetheless, the monk handed her a small booklet, each page with a child’s name written on it. The one she chooses will become the name of her future offspring.
And the winner is: Kunley, the name of the Divine Madman himself. After all these years, he’s still got it.
When she is finished, Chris and I step up to the monk, who picks up the wooden phallus talisman and an iron archery set that the lama brought from Tibet. We bend forward and he taps them over our heads. We didn’t get the full treatment that the other woman got, but I pondered the idea of naming our future adopted child Kunley. Kunley Blake has a nice ring, doesn’t it?
Kevin, my brother-in-law, who also received a similar blessing said later: “This doesn’t mean I have to get married, does it?” Of course not, I replied, “A lot of people have children out of wedlock.”
A baby surely would be one of the more unique souvenirs acquired on this trip — and the most expensive. Perhaps some gifts from the Phallus Handicraft shop might be more suitable after all.
The Bridge to Bhutan
May 1st
We have made it to the mythical land of the Thunder Dragon and all I can do is sleep. Granted, it’s been a long journey to get here, but the least we can do is appreciate our surroundings on this very auspicious national holiday, which marks the death of Zhabrung, who came from Tibet in 1616 and helped unify Bhutan into one nation. But the minute we step into our tour operator’s van upon arrival in Paro, I can’t keep my eyes open. But judging by the hair-pin turns on the cliff-hugging road, maybe I’m better off not looking. Our driver is slow and steady, but I don’t necessarily trust the obstacles that are being thrown his direction — people, cows, dogs and cars coming directly toward us in our lane.
The Bhutanese have a way of overcoming obstacles. The plane ride from Calcutta was proof of that. Descending from abovet the clouds where we could see the tip of the world’s largest peak, we were suddenly among the mountains, bobbing and weaving through the narrow valleys. It really looked like the wing of the aircraft could, at any moment, clip an outcropping on either side of us. And with one hard bank to the right and a quick left, the short runway was right in front of us. There are plenty of YouTube videos that document the tricky landing and take-off at the Paro airport — one of the world’s most dangerous. Only eight pilots in the world are qualified to fly the route.
After that experience and now firmly on the ground, I suppose I deserve to relax for a bit between stops at Semtokha Dzong, the national memorial chorten, the Takin National Animal Preserve and the world’s largest sitting Buddha. These stops are amazing, but I’ll be really ready for tomorrow’s adventure after a good night’s sleep and a change of clothes.
Bhutan for Beginners
Apr 24th
The same man that wrote the lyrics “I’m a lumber jack and I’m okay” introduced me to Bhutan, a tiny Himalayan country the size of Iowa. Comedian Michael Palin of Monty Python fame has gone on to a successful career as a travel presenter for the BBC. The 2004 series “Himalaya with Michael Palin” charted his six-month and 3,000-mile journey through the Himalayan region.
“If you look at a map,” states Palin on his website, palintravels.com.uk, “the Himalaya range resembles a raised eyebrow above India.”
Bhutan, nestled between India and Tibet, is sure to raise eyebrows and open a few eyes to its stunning landscape and cultural richness. Its setting has helped it remain one of the few countries to be independent throughout its history — never conquered, occupied or governed by outside forces, although its Buddhist traditions were brought to the country from Tibet.
Here are a few more facts about the enigmatic Bhutan:
1. The word “Bhutan” translates to “Land of the Thunder Dragon.” It earned the nickname because of the fierce storms that often roll in from the Himalayas.
2. Buddhism was first introduced in the 7th century AD by Tibetan King Songtsan Gampo.
3. In 1999, the government lifted a ban on television and the internet, making Bhutan one of the last countries to adopt the technology.
4. Bhutan is the only country to measure happiness. Gross National Happiness was coined in 1972 to define an indicator that measures the quality of life by means other than gross domestic product. The Bhutanese grounding in Buddhist ideals suggests that beneficial development of human society takes place when material and spiritual development occur side by side to complement and reinforce each other.
5. Bhutan is the only nation in the world where the sale of tobacco is banned.
6. At 24,840 feet, Gangkhar Puensum is the highest point in Bhutan, and the highest unclimbed mountain in the world.
7. The country’s national sport is archery.
8. In Bhutan, healthcare is free for both residents as well as visitors.
9. Phallus paintings in Bhutan are esoteric symbols, which have their origins near Punakha, the former capital of Bhutan. The local monastery was built in honour of a16th century Lama named Drukpa Kunley, who was known as the “Mad Saint” or “Divine Madman” for his unorthodox ways of teaching, which amounted to being bizarre and shocking. These explicit paintings can be seen painted on the walls of houses and buildings throughout Bhutan, particularly in villages. Traditionally symbols of an erect penis in Bhutan have been intended to drive away the evil eye and malicious gossip.
10. Anyone found killing highly endangered and sacred black-necked crane could be sentenced to life in prison.
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For more information about Bhutan, stayed tune to this site, or visit the Tourism Council of Bhutan website.
Bhutan sees record number of tourists in 2011
Apr 18th
Royal wedding fever led to tourism increases in 2011, but not just in the U.K. The Kingdom of Bhutan recorded a an almost 57 percent increase — the highest in the history of the remote Himalayan country — which can be partly attributed to the nuptials between King Jigme Khesar and commoner Jetsun Pema.
“The large influx of tourists in October could be highly attributed to one of Bhutan’s biggest events as the country celebrated the Royal Wedding of the King and Queen. Many friends of Bhutan came from all over the world to be part of the grand celebration,” the report states.
While the increase is substantial, the isolated country still only had 64,028 tourists in 2011. Bhutan has a unique and long-standing system that requires visitors to spend at least $250 a day, which keeps the impact from tourism low and earning from it high. However, there is no limit to the number of tourists that can visit the country.
“Exclusivity and uniqueness is our biggest selling point,” says Lotay Rinchen from Bridge to Bhutan, one of the many companies that offers tours of the country. “Other places have become too touristy. We are authentic.”
The report says most tourists visited Bhutan to see the country’s age-old living culture, colourful festivals and ways of life. Most of the visitors (77.09 percent) rated culture as the main reason for their visit, followed by 18.74 percent who said they came for nature-based activities.
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Over the next few weeks, we’ll be posting more about Bhutan and its people and customs. Join us on the journey to the “Land of the Thunder Dragon.”
