Bhutan

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.

A buckwheat field with a big view of the Phobjikha Valley

A buckwheat field with a big view of the Phobjikha Valley

Our third stop in Bhutan was in the Phobjikha Valley in Central Bhutan at an elevation of nearly 10,000 feet above sea level. So far, at least, it’s been my favorite stop in Bhutan.

The first thing we noticed on arriving here is just how remote we were, probably the most remote place we’ve been since we spent three days in a ger in Mongolia just over two years ago. It’s a solid two-hour drive from here to anything that would remotely be called a town with shopping and all that. And in all this isolation our lodge sits on a hill overlooking the huge valley with the sounds of wind, birds, and cows, just a very short walk to some of the villagers’ houses. We could only wonder what these farmers must think of a luxury lodge in their midst.

Breakfast on the back lawn of our lodge with sweeping views of the valley

Breakfast on the back lawn of our lodge with sweeping views of the valley

Remote? The primary cash crop is potatoes, and in most fields we walked past you could see the tent or shack where someone sleeps every night, with a dog nearby, to fight off the wild pigs that would otherwise destroy the crop. While hiking down a mountain after a great hike one day, our guide pointed out the shack on the slope where the yak herders sleep to protect the herds from the leopards that would otherwise eat them. Houses are constructed of pounded dirt walls, and all day you could see teams of women – always women, we were told – standing on top of walls at construction sites pounding, pounding, pounding.

Near the end of a tough two-hour bike ride up and down the hills in the valley, we ran into these kids coming home from school. They were determined to prove they could run faster up hill than I could bike, and they did. The little kid in front, in particular, was not going to quit; I was seriously concerned his big little heart would explode but he would not quit until I did. So I did, finally. And when I started biking again, they kept running with me.

Near the end of a tough two-hour bike ride up and down the hills in the valley, we ran into these kids coming home from school. They were determined to prove they could run faster up hill than I could bike, and they did. The little kid in front, in particular, was not going to quit; I was seriously concerned his big little heart would explode but he would not quit until I did. So I did, finally. And when I started biking again, they kept running with me.

The Phobjikha Valley is perhaps best known as a winter feeding ground for the black necked crane, a threatened, legally protected bird with a wingspan of nearly eight feet that summers up in the Tibetan plateau. Because the valley is such an important feature of the crane’s ecosystem, power lines throughout the valley have all been buried below ground, adding immeasurably to the beauty of the area. Unfortunately, the cranes don’t arrive until October and then leave in February, so we have to come back in a few years to see them.

The other major feature of the valley is the Gangte Monastery, a 17th century Buddhist monastery currently let by the 9th reincarnation of somebody-or-other. That whole “Xth reincarnation of …” is surprisingly common here. The chef at the lodge in Bumthang explained with all seriousness that his older brother is both the uncle of the current queen – entirely plausible – and the 11th reincarnation of some Buddhist master he just assumed we’d recognize. Less plausible, from my perspective at least. At any rate we hiked one day from our lodge up to the monastery, with fabulous views, and then around the valley for a total of nine miles. Probably shouldn’t have done that given Mark’s ongoing knee problems, but it was a beautiful hike.

The view of our lodge from Gangtey Monastery. We climbed up to this spot and then around the valley for another seven miles or so.

The view of our lodge from Gangtey Monastery. We climbed up to this spot and then around the valley for another seven miles or so.

So, remote valley, beautiful views, great hikes, exhausting bike rides (with Bhutan’s top mountain racer, I remind you), and all the solitude and quiet and peace you could ever want. And at the end of the day we’d have a nice cocktail and great Bhutanese food that we’re continually impressed by. Not bad.

For me, the highlight was a huge hike up and over an 11,800 foot pass. I took this selfie as a very happy and satisfied climber...

For me, the highlight was a huge hike up and over an 11,800 foot pass. I took this selfie as a very happy and satisfied climber…

… And when I turned around I saw this yak watching me. Don't believe me?

… And when I turned around I saw this yak watching me. Don’t believe me?

I quickly gave our guide the camera so he could get us both in the picture.

I quickly gave our guide the camera so he could get us both in the picture.

There's lots of construction these days, our guide explained, because the astrology shows that next year is a terrible year to start construction; he said there would be no housing starts next year. None. Note the women at the top of the building tamping, tamping, tamping the dirt to create the walls.

There’s lots of construction these days, our guide explained, because the astrology shows that next year is a terrible year to start construction; he said there would be no housing starts next year. None. Note the women at the top of the building tamping, tamping, tamping the dirt to create the walls.

Another random shot of potato fields on the valley floor

Another random shot of potato fields on the valley floor

Another potato field, with the night guard's tent in the background to protect the crop from wild pigs

Another potato field, with the night guard’s tent in the background to protect the crop from wild pigs

Mark in a particularly beautiful spot on our nine-mile trek around the valley

Mark in a particularly beautiful spot on our nine-mile trek around the valley

Mark and Kelsang, our guide, leading the way

Mark and Kelsang, our guide, leading the way

I thought this might be the site of our next house

I thought this might be the site of our next house

OK, one last shot of me at 11,800 feet with the Phobjikha Valley at my feet

OK, one last shot of me at 11,800 feet with the Phobjikha Valley at my feet