Bhutan: The Land of the Thunder Dragon

My excitement soars along with the plane as we ascend from Dhaka, Bangladesh on the final leg of my trip from Bangkok to Bhutan. After an in-flight meal of pad thai and tropical fruits, the pilot comes over the intercom and directs our attention to a pure white pyramid breaking through the cloud layer to the left of the plane. My wide eyes have already been glued to it for several minutes. I feel strange, excited yes, but also calm and quiet seeing this peak for the first time in my life. Japanese tourists crawl over one another to to get a glimpse of Qomolangma (Tibetan), the highest and most sacred mountain on earth. For once I'm not the obnoxious tourist. Soon, Sagarmatha (Nepali) is obscured by a sea of clouds as we begin our descent into Paro, the only airport in the whole country. (Bhutan, btw, is 1/8 the size of the state of Montana and has a popn. of only 700,000 people compared to Montana's 900,000 souls.) Suddenly, the plane breaks through the floor of the clouds, and we are deep in the belly of a massive canyon. Our wings practically brush the blue pines clinging to the steep mountain slopes within a few hundred feet of my seat. As the jet swings left, right, and precipitously down to follow kinks in the canyon, I laugh out loud with childish delight. The women next to me, clinging with white knuckles to the armrest, gives me a dirty look. Terraced fields of rice and chilies clustered around boxy, white farmhouses slip quickly beneath us before giving way to the tightly packed stores and homes of Paro. Then suddenly we are on the ground without a jounce in one of the smoothest landings I have ever (not) felt. I have arrived in Bhutan.[ P.S. I am later told that the take-off and landing in Paro are considered among the most technical and dangerous for a commercial jetliner on earth. Check that off my bucket list.]

I am in here the tiny Buddhist kingdom of Bhutan to attend a wildlife biology conference and hands-on workshop in the holy town of Bumthang, home to the most temples per square kilometer in Bhutan, as well as the Ugyen Wangchuck Institute of Conservation and Environment. I have been invited as a guest of the government by a classmate of mine from grad school at U Montana, Tschering Tempa, who has organized the conference. Although the plane ticket is outrageously expensive for an intra-Asia flight Bangkok, once I am in country all expenses are covered by the conference. There is no other way I could afford to come otherwise because Bhutan is a semi-closed country. Tourists must arrange visas through travel agencies and pay at least $250 per day for the privilege of traveling here. This policy was set in place by the last king, a beloved father figure named Sigme Jigme Wangchuck, to promote low-density tourism that would not overtly impact the deep Buddhist culture. Thanks to this and other policies, such as measuring the country's progress through Gross National Happiness rather than GN Product, Bhutan is a place relatively untouched by western influences. 80% of the people are still rural subsistence farmers, and the country is 72% forested. These numbers didn't really become real to me until our 12 hours bus ride from the capital Thimphu out to Bumthang over some of the curviest roads I've ever seen. We would go for long stretches between tiny villages and hamlets , and the dense blue pine forests just seemed to roll on forever.

Goodness, how do I describe this place? Well, for starters it looks a lot like the northern Rockies or the central Alps (think Switzerland with yaks and Buddha statues everywhere) with steep mountains hemming fertile valleys that grow potatoes, rice, buckwheat and all manner of veggies. Crystalline streams, blue and milky green from glacier dust, tumble over huge granite boulders through slot canyons. Not surprisingly, Bhutan's economy rests on tourism and hydropower-generated electricity exported to India.

What else? Everything, everywhere from cargo trucks to temples to bank is hand painted with intricate Buddhist motifs of animals and symbols and frequently, huge, graphic phalluses (aka penises) that are meant to ward away evil spirits. Despite being devoutly Tibetan Buddhist, Bhutan is a very sexually open place, with both men and women being allowed to take multiple sexual partners in a discreet process known as "night-hunting." Sex ed is taught in schools and condoms are distributed freely and widely. Perhaps that's why everyone is so happy here. Oh yeah, and marijuana grows wild here all over the place, my first sighting being right outside the airport. That might help too.

Archery is the national sport, with men competing every weekend or any free moment, it seems. It involves more singing and dancing to psych out your opponent and celebrate good shots than actual firing of arrows. Extremely fun to watch with all participants wearing traditional clothes and really whooping it up. Um, what else? The whole country is supposed to be vegetarian, but like every other Buddhist country I have visited, they are emphatically not. The one twist here is that Bhutanese abhor killing…so they get Indian immigrants to slaughter the pigs, chickens, and cows for them. Ah, spirit of the law, that's my kind of religion!

The people of Bhutan, despite being generally calm and tranquil at nearly all times, often burst out into song and dance at the drop if a hat. They love to dance in big Greek-wedding style circles, especially around fires. The Institute had a great farewell bonfire for us, and I picked up a few steps. The majority of the singing I experienced came from Tempa and the drivers of the buses and trucks that carried us everywhere in Bhutan. Sonam and Tempa would serenade us with both traditional and original songs they composed, most having to do with lengthy but eloquent metaphors about love and sex. One day, on a hike to a tiny hilltop village in the remote Tang Valley, we came upon a group of women using huge wooden posts to pack clay into the rammed earth walls of a traditional Bhutanese farm house they were constructing. As the women did this back-breaking work all day without a man in sight, they sang a song punctuated by the deep bass thuds of their vigorous dirt-packing. The song explained that although men might seem to be in the ones in control in Bhutan, it's really the women that get it all done and make the real decisions. Based on the sinewy biceps these ladies were sporting, I was prone to agree with them.

Temples, monasteries, and chortens (memorial monuments, some simple, some grand) thickly dot the landscape. You are never far from the sounds of chanting, prayer flags flapping, bells ringing, and prayer wheels spinning. The Bhutanese are so keen on getting their prayers heard that they have built water-driven prayer wheels that sit in little huts over streams that keep the wheels spinning out prayers all day and night. And of course, each flap of a prayer flag in the breeze is another prayer or wish shot out into the cosmos. Local deities inhabit every nook and cranny in Bhutan, from homes to trees. They must be appeased with gifts or special chants from paid monk squads or scared away by giant phalluses. The fusion of religion and politics, church and state, is so complete that from regional administrators all the way up to the Parliament and the King, government officers share space with to monks and lamas in huge , fortress-like "dzongs" that house them both. Dzongs are often perched in strategic spots on cliffs and riversides because they originally served as forts against the invading Tibetans, and later British. Due to their impressive design and features such as internal water tanks, Bhutan is one of only a few Asian countries to never succumb to invasion or colonization. Because of this Bhutanese are very nationalistic and proud of their unique place in the world. But at the same time, kids are taught impeccable English in school starting at a young age, and many are given the chance to study at foreign universities the world over. However, unlike international scholars of other nationalities, the Bhutanese abroad nearly always return home to Bhutan to contribute the development of their land. The Bhutanese are keen on developing their homeland and raising the standard of living, but not at the cost of tradition and family. Doesn't sound like a terrible place, huh?

Perhaps one of my favorite days in Bhutan was my last there. Those few of us left after the conference went on a trip to one of Bhutan's most famous landmarks, the Tiger's Nest, a very sacred monastery perched precariously halfway up a massive cliff. Next to the monastery is a huge ravine with a waterfall tumbling down its face. Prayer flags are strung across the entire gorge and up and down the cliffs above and below the temple. The temple was supposedly created in the exact location where Guru Rinpoche, the lama that brought Buddhism over the mountains from Tibet, landed after flying across the Himalayan Mountains on his magic tiger steed. The temple is so delicately perched on the cliff that some Bhutanese believe that it is held in place by the hair of angels. The hike up to the Tiger's Nest started hot and dry at the bottom as we passed through cow pastures. Soon we entered a forest glen where three huge prayer wheels turn together over the tumbling stream. Women call plaintively to you, "Shopping…?" as they try to interest you in fake turquoise trinkets. We hike up and up through pine trees into dry oak forest festooned with Spanish moss. Several horses that ferry supplies up the mountain everyday come trotting down the trail unattended, seemingly happy to have their burdens lightened; we give them the right of way. The trail is so old that in some places it has become worn 6 feet deep into the earth by thousands of pilgrims making this trek over the years. Piles of rocks, prayer flags, and prayer wheels make frequent appearances along the trail. We stop at one spot where one is meant to see a handprint in solid rock left by Guru Rinpoche; however, the sacred relic doesn't reveal itself to our foreign eyes. We finally make it to the overlook, "the postcard spot," our first closeup look at the Tiger's Nest. It is magnificent. Nearby I light a yak butter lamp for 5 rupees and say a prayer for my grandmother back in Delaware. We then climb all the way down to the base of the waterfall on a series of vertigo-inducing rock steps carved into the Cliffside before climbing back up the other side to the gates of the monastery. One of our drivers Sonam tells us in his broken English that the sheer drops were making his heart feel "itchy." We all knew what he meant! (Sonam also describes the crazy, hairpin roads of Bhutan as "curly" and himself as the "undrinkable driver" for his refusal of all alcohol.)

Inside the monastery, I see that one temple is actually six temples stacked on top of one another and carved into the rock. In the first one, I get a lama to bless some prayer flags with holy water from one of the many sacred springs trickling from the rocks beneath the Tiger's Nest. On my way out I hang them along with thousands of other flag strands to spin prayers off into the canyon breeze until winter storms wear the cotton threads down and ultimately pull it out into the void. In other temples, monks play huge bronze horns, bang drums, and chant atonal mantras. One temple houses giant, intricately painted and gilded statues depicting the many incarnations of Guru Rinpoche, both benevolent and wrathful, as well as Buddhas of past, present, and future. In the final temple we enter, pushed back into a cave within the cliff, I leave an offering along with hundreds of others on the tiers of a crumbling chorten, and make a wish. I almost went the most obvious route and wished to return to Bhutan someday, but I stopped myself and offered a different prayer. I wished to have no more wishes.

I could go on and on, but perhaps the best things I can do is tell you to check out my pictures of the place that I will post on Facebook soon hopefully, fast internet connection willing.

 

Culinary Delights

Doma – A special combination of betel leaves betel nut and limestone powder. An addictive stimulant chewed all day long by most men and many old women. According to traditional belief, the leaf represents human skin, the nut a shrunken skull, and the lime the gray matter of the brain. When chewed together, a chemical reaction turns one's saliva bright red, representing blood.

Chongmo –rock-hard pieces of dried yak cheese sold on a string; off-white, mild taste, and smelling of smoke; it took me an hour to chew through my first piece; aka Bhutanese bubblegum;

Ema-datsi – a spicy staple present at every meal, and the national dish. Basically whole chili peppers cooked in yak cheese. Unlike most culinary traditions that use chilies as a spice or condiment, Bhutanese cooking treats the chili as a vegetable to be consumed in heaping piles. My capsaicin-addicted tastebuds and I are pleased; my digestive tract is not.

Buckwheat noodles and pancakes – common wheat is also grown here but native buckwheat is prized for its taste and high nutritional content

Red rice – another staple of the Bhutan diet, tastes like white rice, but looks much more awesome on your plate.

Favored veggies - often served in yak cheese like ema datsi – carrots, green beans, asparagus, fiddleheads (young fern buds)

Pork Bacon – thick strips of gelatinous fat, not fried crispy as we do it, but left practically raw

Dahl – a thick Indian-style lentil soup with mild curry spice, served with nearly every meal

Excellent raw honey and wild strawberry jam available from local producers all over Bumthang province.

Cow's milk yoghurt from local dairies; tangy and sour and full of probiotic goodness.

Oh wait, almost forgot the delicacy served to us at a special dinner given by the provincial governor: Pickled cow hide aka leather! Chewy and spicy, not as bad I had imagined it would. Unfortunately, when I ate this I was already coming down with a stomach virus. Apparently, pickled leather was the straw that broke the camel's stomach, and it was soon deposited in the bushes outside the dining room at the beginning of a 12-hour stint of food poisoning-esque sickness. Yum.