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All posts for the month June, 2015

The view from Mark's hospital room as the crazy typhoon weather was just starting to pass by

The view from Mark’s hospital room as the crazy typhoon weather was just starting to pass by

A funny thing happened on the way to India. The plan had been that after Bhutan we were going to go up into Kashmir, the Himalayan region in India. So we’d fly to Delhi, spend a day or two, and then head back into the mountains. But, as it became clear Mark’s knee was an unsolved problem, we decided instead to go from Delhi right to Hong Kong to confer again with Dr. Tong. We’d already booked the flight from Paro to Delhi, one of the few places you can fly to out of Bhutan, and decided we could manage it for just two days despite the forecast highs of 107 degrees. Seriously, the forecast was for 107 degrees.

Mark was up early our last morning in Bhutan and he had a thought. “I wonder if we need a visa to get into India?” Now, you might think that experienced travelers would ask that question before they were ready to head out to the airport. It turns out Americans do need a visa to enter India and you need to apply some measurable time in advance; there are no visas on arrival for Americans. Huh.

This was a time we were distinctly happy to be staying where the staff would go above and beyond to help us figure it out. One of the women in the office called a friend of hers with Royal Bhutan Airline to see what our options were. Getting on the flight to Delhi was simply not one of those options. In short order – a hectic and scary 60 minutes or so, but short order in the scheme of things – we’d rebooked for a slightly later flight to Bangkok, booked a night in a hotel there, canceled our reservation in Delhi, and changed our Delhi-Hong Kong flight to a Bangkok-Hong Kong. Remarkably there was surprisingly little hassle with the various airlines and hotels involved.

Our first couple days in Hong Kong were sunny, but  I was just curled up miserable in bed. After a couple days here in the midst of Hong Kong we moved across the bay to Kowloon where the hotel rooms were bigger and much cheaper.

Our first couple days in Hong Kong were sunny, but I was just curled up miserable in bed. After a couple days here in the midst of Hong Kong we moved across the bay to Kowloon where the hotel rooms were bigger and much cheaper.

So instead of a night or two in Delhi, we had a night in Bangkok. But then a funny thing happened on the way to Hong Kong. Somehow, somewhere, I ate something I really shouldn’t have. By the time we were up the next morning to go to the airport I was miserably sick. Just awful. And this as we’re taking Bangkok’s elevated subway system to the airport in the intense heat with few elevators or escalators to ease the burden of traveling with luggage. Pure misery. How did that happen? Our lodge in Bhutan was totally First World quality – and really good First World. I’d eaten one meal on Royal Air Bhutan and then we had dinner at a top-notch steak house in Bangkok. That was it. One of those, though, was a killer.

A panoramic shot of Hong Kong from Kowloon

A panoramic shot of Hong Kong from Kowloon

Thus we were quite the couple on arrival in Hong Kong. Mark was probably there to have surgery on his knee (and indeed that’s what the doctor ordered) and I was as sick as I’ve been in a number of years. The result of all that misery is that the pictures we have from our first 10 days back in Hong Kong are pretty much all from the inside of our hotel room looking out. Looking out at rain, I should add. A typhoon apparently passed by the region and for pretty much a solid week it was either raining or getting ready to rain. As we sat in the hotel, Mark nursing his knee after the second arthroscopic event, me staying close to the bathroom. It was lovely.

The view from our second hotel, this time in Kowloon. We looked at this a lot over our week there, neither of us really able to do anything beyond take the elevator to the mall below us for lunch and then dinner. Great fun.

The view from our second hotel, this time in Kowloon. We looked at this a lot over our week there, neither of us really able to do anything beyond take the elevator to the mall below us for lunch and then dinner. Great fun.

The good news is we’re both on the mend, we think. I was down for nearly two weeks, sometimes better, sometimes worse, but sick enough that I haven’t had a cocktail in 12 days. That’s serious. Finally, though, I’m confident the worst is over for me, at least. It’s too soon to know yet whether Mark’s surgery fixed the pain he’s had walking pretty much all year, but I’m an optimist.

From Hong Kong island, this huge sign signals that something big - mostly Lars's museum - is happening in West Kowloon. From our hotel this was just a quick walk as I started to recover some strength.

From Hong Kong island, this huge sign signals that something big – mostly Lars’s museum – is happening in West Kowloon. From our hotel this was just a quick walk as I started to recover some strength.

There were a couple bright spots in our otherwise bleak time in Hong Kong. One night our friends Lars & Shideh invited us to tag along to a little party they were going to with a bunch of artists and architects (recall that Shideh is an architect and Lars is building a huge new modern art museum in Hong Kong, what is described as the most important new museum project since the Pompidou Center was built in Paris 40 years ago). It was fun hanging out with this artsy crowd of European ex-pats and Hong Kong locals. One of the young women there, who works with (and claims to worship) Shideh, is Victor Hugo’s granddaughter. How cool is that?

And then on our last night in Hong Kong Shideh & Lars invited us and two other couples to celebrate – a week late – midsummer’s eve, a big holiday in Lars’s native Sweden. One of the other couples was Mark’s knee surgeon, whose wife just happens to be one of Shideh’s closest friends. Such a small world. Suffice it to say that a Swedish midsummer feast includes more varieties of pickled herring than you’ve ever imagined, free flowing aquavit, and Lars teaching us Swedish drinking songs accompanied by some crazy dance moves.

The always beautiful Shideh describing the various herring dishes we'd be trying

The always beautiful Shideh describing the various herring dishes we’d be trying

We’re continuing to lie low while Mark’s knee heals, but we were bored beyond words hanging out in our hotel in Kowloon, across the bay from Hong Kong city proper so Mark came up with a crazy idea. We crossed over the “border” with China – Hong Kong is of course in China, but the border between the two is just like an international border with visa requirements, passport control, and customs – and are going to hang out for a week in Shenzhen (if we can stand it that long), a city that’s sprung up in the last few decades to link China’s massive workforce with Hong Kong’s access to global finance. We’ll report on this odd place soon.

The middle building was our hotel in Kowloon. The tall building on the right includes a Ritz Carlton hotel on the top floors, so one night we went for drinks up on the 136th floor or something, what turns out to be the world's highest bar. Pretty cool.

The middle building was our hotel in Kowloon. The tall building on the right includes a Ritz Carlton hotel on the top floors, so one night we went for drinks up on the 136th floor or something, what turns out to be the world’s highest bar. Pretty cool.

Finally, our last full day in Hong Kong the weather broke. Mark & I were both feeling well enough to go to the pool on the 76th floor and enjoy the sun and view of that Ritz building.

Finally, our last full day in Hong Kong the weather broke. Mark & I were both feeling well enough to go to the pool on the 76th floor and enjoy the sun and view of that Ritz building.

The Tiger's Nest clings to a cliff 3,000 feet above the Paro valley floor.

The Tiger’s Nest clings to a cliff 3,000 feet above the Paro valley floor.

Our last stop in Bhutan was Paro, home of the country’s most iconic landmark, the Tiger’s Nest. This group of Buddhist temples is perched on the side of a cliff 3,000 feet above the valley floor. When we set out to climb up in the early morning, it was draped in mist far above us and simply looked impossible to get to.

Lots of visiting Indian army members wanted pictures with me for some reason.

Lots of visiting Indian army members wanted pictures with me for some reason.

The hike up was stunning. We encountered a nice variety of landscapes, pleasant viewing spots, and lots and lots of dogs. Other climbers included a variety of tourists, pilgrims, families, monks, and a lot of Indians. The Indians were disproportionately men in their 30s or so. We eventually learned that they were part of an army entourage conducting joint Indian-Bhutanese military exercises. And for some reason, they all seemed to want to take their pictures with me.

When riding our bikes in Bhutan we encounter lots of cute kids who like to run along side us and prove that they can run as fast as we can bike.

When riding our bikes in Bhutan we encounter lots of cute kids who like to run along side us and prove that they can run as fast as we can bike.

Our two weeks in Bhutan have been a singular experience. We rarely encounter a culture that feels so cut off from the rest of the world (in a good way). It’s cut off by rugged mountain ranges, sharp limits on tourism, and a strong cultural identity that feels impervious to change.

This culture, with its distinctive architecture, beautiful valleys, traditional clothing, and deep Buddhist roots, is less marred by crass commercialism and ugly development than any populated place we’ve been. There is a lot of talk about Gross National Happiness in Bhutan. I don’t know if the Bhutanese are really happier than anyone else, but it was fascinating to see people living as if in a simpler era.

The Tiger's Nest looked impossible to get to from the valley below.

The Tiger’s Nest looked impossible to get to from the valley below.

Like everywhere else in Bhutan, the climb featured lots and lots of dogs.

Like everywhere else in Bhutan, the climb featured lots and lots of dogs.

At the highest point of our climb, we were rewarded with a look down on the Tiger's Nest.

At the highest point of our climb, we were rewarded with a look down on the Tiger’s Nest.

This ruined dzong (fort) was just a short walk and climb from our hotel.

This ruined dzong (fort) was just a short walk and climb from our hotel.

The gorgeous view from the ruined dzong

The gorgeous view from the ruined dzong

Another hike in the Paro area

Another hike in the Paro area

Another cute kid

Another cute kid

Can't take too many rice terrace pics, can you?

Can’t take too many rice terrace pics, can you?

Jim gets very excited by rice terraces.

Jim gets very excited by rice terraces.

One last picture of the Tiger's Nest

One last picture of the Tiger’s Nest

Punakha's terraced rice fields

Punakha’s terraced rice fields

From the Phobjikha Valley we moved west to Punakha, the capital of Bhutan from the time of the first king in the early 20th century until the late 1950s. Google Maps would tell you it’s only 80 kilometers and a 90 minute drive from the Phobjikha Valley to Punakha, but Google’s probably never spent a lot of time in Bhutan. Given the challenging roads here – calling them challenging is being generous – it took us a bit over three hours to bounce our way down to Punakha. And down it was, from Phobjikha’s 8,700 foot elevation to Punakha’s mere 3,900 feet.

That elevation change, of course, makes a huge difference in the climate, so Punakha was much warmer than we’d come to get used to in the higher parts of the country. And with that climate change came a change in crops; here, rice is the primary cash crop, though we also found pepper fields and even eggplant. Rice, though, changes everything. Suddenly we found the stunning terraced rice fields that I’ve never seen outside of Bali. Bike rides were constantly being interrupted by the need – the need – to stop and take another picture. And one of our big hikes up to a beautiful temple was right through some rice fields, which has to be one of the greatest ways on earth to spend a day.

Mark on a hike through rice fields to a temple

Mark on a hike through rice fields to a temple

Lots of rice fields in Punakha

Lots of rice fields in Punakha

As you might guess for Bhutan, the world’s only Buddhist kingdom, we spend a lot of time in Buddhist temples and hearing about Buddhist history and so on. Buddhism is a little hard for me to get a handle on, since it’s a religion that doesn’t depend on a god. Siddhartha Gautama was a 5th century BC Indian who became “enlightened” and known as the Buddha; he taught that we could end suffering by eliminating ignorance and craving. And while officially he’s not a god, I can’t see much of a difference between the way Westerners think of their God and the way Buddhists think of Buddha. And the way our guide describes 7th century gurus and masters doesn’t differ a lot from the way Catholics talk of saints.

Never too many pictures of rice fields

Never too many pictures of rice fields

One thing that’s gotten my attention over the last several days is how generally unfriendly and even unhappy Buddhist monks seem to be. As we travel around these remote parts of Bhutan (as an aside, do you know how challenging it is to get those random h’s in Bhutan and Buddhism, keeping them in the right place?) people are just breathtakingly friendly. Kids want to talk to you. People in cars smile and wave, going so slow because of the terrible roads. It’s like a country full of Minnesotans who’ve taken their Happy Pills. In all the miles we’ve put in driving from lodge to lodge, I’ve never once seen a slow car or truck fail to slide over and let faster vehicles pass. They always let you by. Try that in Boston!

The monks, though, are a glaring exception. They don’t smile at us, they don’t talk to us, and they just don’t seem happy. Maybe it’s the “can’t marry or have sex” thing. Maybe it’s being responsible for the happiness of all sentient beings. Not just people, mind you, but all sentient beings. Our guide Kelsang told us that some monks don’t go outside in early summer months when bugs are breeding for fear they would accidentally step on one and harm a sentient being. Shades of the Tin Woodman! I suppose being responsible for all sentient beings is a pretty big responsibility, but a priest is responsible for his or her flock, and they can be happy sometimes. Some day I have to understand the whole unsmiling monk thing.

We haven't had a lot of cat pictures lately, but we encountered this cutie in the Punakha Dzong. Not two minutes after Mark quit petting her a robed monk was kicking her trying to get her to go away. Kicking a cat!

We haven’t had a lot of cat pictures lately, but we encountered this cutie in the Punakha Dzong. Not two minutes after Mark quit petting her a robed monk was kicking her trying to get her to go away. Kicking a cat!

Other Bhutanese, though, seem genuinely happy, notwithstanding the poverty they face. It makes you think that this Gross National Happiness thing has something to it. People smile, they talk, they always want to know where you’re going and what you’re doing there. And it’s not as though their lives are so easy. Whether it’s hoeing potatoes in Gangtey or planting rice by hand in Punakha, their lives are tough. One little eight-year-old who walked for a while with Mark explained that he walks an hour and fifteen minutes each way to and from school every day, but you could tell he was just a happy kid. As long as he stays out of the monastery, I say.

I saw this guy knee-deep in mud working his rice field and thought "If I ever had a job again (which I won't) I'd never complain about how hard it was. Mark saw it and said "I bet that guy is thinking 'This tiller sure beats the hell out of those oxen I used to walk behind. Man, ain't life great!'"

I saw this guy knee-deep in mud working his rice field and thought “If I ever had a job again (which I won’t) I’d never complain about how hard it was. Mark saw it and said “I bet that guy is thinking ‘This tiller sure beats the hell out of those oxen I used to walk behind. Man, ain’t life great!'”

OK, so that’s Punakha, with it’s random h thrown in to keep me on my toes. Lots more hiking and biking. Mark’s knee isn’t getting any better, but at least it’s not getting any worse either. (When we leave Bhutan we’re headed back to Hong Kong to see the specialist again to see what we should do now.) We’re both getting a ton of exercise and more fresh air than you could get in five years in Boston. We’ve got one more stop in Bhutan, but I’m already thinking of a return trip in a couple of years. I love this place.

A great picture of Mark on one of our hikes. I should have gotten this one higher up in the post!

A great picture of Mark on one of our hikes. I should have gotten this one higher up in the post!

Officially Mark is a cat person. He's managed to bond, though, with a number of cute dogs along the way.

Officially Mark is a cat person. He’s managed to bond, though, with a number of cute dogs along the way.

Posing in front of the Punakha Dzong, a 17th century building that's the second oldest in Bhutan. If you're wondering, a "dzong" was built as a fortress, combining defense, civil administration, and religious spaces all in one.

Posing in front of the Punakha Dzong, a 17th century building that’s the second oldest in Bhutan. If you’re wondering, a “dzong” was built as a fortress, combining defense, civil administration, and religious spaces all in one.

One of the beautiful, mystical temples we hiked to. This one was commissioned by the Queen Mother just a few years ago and has a commanding view over the Panakha Valley.

One of the beautiful, mystical temples we hiked to. This one was commissioned by the Queen Mother just a few years ago and has a commanding view over the Panakha Valley.

A local farmer we came across on our hike through the rice fields with his bag of peppers. They do a little crop rotation here, so he's growing some of the peppers we love in the local peppers-and-cheese dish.

A local farmer we came across on our hike through the rice fields with his bag of peppers. They do a little crop rotation here, so he’s growing some of the peppers we love in the local peppers-and-cheese dish.

A tree in the Punakha Dzong planted by Jawaharlal Nehru when he was Prime Minister of India. What I like about it is that when he planted it in the late 1950s, Bhutan had no roads; literally, no roads. So, like anyone traveling to Bhutan's then capital in Punakha, he came by horse.

A tree in the Punakha Dzong planted by Jawaharlal Nehru when he was Prime Minister of India. What I like about it is that when he planted it in the late 1950s, Bhutan had no roads; literally, no roads. So, like anyone traveling to Bhutan’s then capital in Punakha, he came by horse.

Just another beautiful house set amongst the rice fields and mountains

Just another beautiful house set amongst the rice fields and mountains

OK, I swear, the last terraced rice fields. For today, at least.

OK, I swear, the last terraced rice fields. For today, at least.