Day 11: Thimpu to Paro

A bit tired and jaggy from lack of sleep, we piled on the bus bound for Paro - where Tshering assured us the hotel had softer beds. First of all, though, we paid a visit to Thimpu's weekly vegetable market. It's in a temporary venue at the moment, because the market proper is being renovated.

Farmers from all round the area come to town to sell their produce, plus there are importers selling goods from India - exotic fruit, spices and so on. It was still raining, and the market entrance was a sea of mud, with planks and bits of cardboard to walk on. The market itself was under tarps, so a lot of the photos have a blue cast.















The last pic there is a betel nut seller - a lot of people chew betel nut, a mild stimulant. You can tell because it turns their teeth and gums red. The seller wraps the nut with the leaves and lime powder. The fruit and veg looked delicious, nice and fresh.

Back in the bus we set off for Paro. En route we stopped at a famous bridge, Tamchog Chakzam, designed by the engineer monk Thangtong Gyalpo, who built iron chain bridges all over Tibet and Bhutan in the 15th century. The Paro bridge was washed away in a storm in the 50s and rebuilt.



The little cave in the hill behind the bridge is the mine where the iron ore came from for the chains. The bridge is suspended on heavy iron chains that go through the buildings and are pinned at the back. The bridge is made of wire mesh and bamboo slats - springy but secure feeling, nice to walk on. And of course it's festooned with prayer flags.









Paro is a nice little town, just a few shops and a laid-back feeling. There were dogs everywhere of course.



The whole Paro valley is beautiful, with fields of rice along the river, and houses and farms and scattered in the hills.



We visited the Rinpung Dzong next, crossing a nice covered bridge to get there.



















It was massive, and rather gorgeous. Again it was raining, again we couldn't wear any hats or open our umbrellas, but still it was wonderful. Some things remain a mystery... this sign for example:



The paintwork was great, sometimes gaudy, sometimes subtle.





And there were grand views.



Bhutan's national sport is archery, so we were thrilled to see a match in progress just near the dzong. It's interesting to see that the national obsession with doing everything traditional style doesn't include the archers' equipment - they all had the very latest composite bows.










Here's a little film of the archers dancing.



The women, meanwhile, were singing too - to put off the men of the opposing team. Because it was raining they were in the tea tent.



We had lunch at a cafe in Paro, where some of the others tried the local beer, which wasn't a big hit. It was a white beer, yeasty and clouded. Downstairs from the cafe was a weaving studio and we popped in for a look. The women were working on the most amazing pieces, very intricate and embellished with extra threads woven in with a shuttle. I don't know what the technique is called, but the resulting cloth was stunning. And was selling for a stunning price too! Worth it, but well out of my league - we're talking £400 for a small tablecloth. Just looking, thanks!

So... time for another dzong. This was Drukyeldzong, which burnt down in the 1950s and hasn't been rebuilt... yet. It's possible it will be in the future, but at the moment it's just earth and stone walls and a few charred beams. Very popular venue for picnics, apparently.








The buildings around the dzong had some spectacular decorations:



And we passed a puppy with the comfiest bed in Bhutan:



Right! What next? Oh, I know, another monastery! This one was rather special, Kyichu Lhakhang, dating from the 17th century.





It was small, simple, lovely. The courtyard was especially nice, with a little orange tree.



But just as we were about to go into the temple, I got a nose-bleed. Amazing! I've never had one before and it came from nowhere (well, from my nose, obviously, but you know what I mean). Duncan is an anaesthetist and he advised pinching my nostrils for five minutes, while Judy gave me a bundle of tissues. Then they all went into the temple while I stood around outside, bleeding and pinching. It stopped just as they came back out. Apparently the temple is REALLY nice.



Back in the bus, Tshering said, "And now we will go to .... another dzong!" He was only kidding - we were going to the hotel, the Olathang. Very nice place, built in the 1970s. It has a stuffed yak, the only yak I saw (apart from the goulash). And the beds, while not exactly soft, certainly weren't as hard as the Druk's. Plus it had the best shower of the whole trip, so strong it nearly blasted me off my feet. The rooms had a hasp and padlock rather than a conventional lock, and were painted in traditional style - mine was red with blue beams and mandalas on the ceiling.

There was a bizarre surprise for us at the Olathang. There was a fascinating couple staying at the Druk in Thimpu, an elderly woman who talked and talked and talked and a slightly younger looking man who listened and listened and listened. Those with better hearing than me reported that she was telling her life history, with a lot of detail about her childhood and her mother. She apparently said she was 90, which she really didn't look. The man looked as if he would die of boredom at any moment. We had fun coming up with theories of who they were - we plunked for him being her therapist.

So who should be there at the Olathang when we walked in!!! And at dinner they were exactly the same: her talking and talking and talking.

That night I looked up my bumf on altitude sickness to see if nose-bleeds were a symptom, but they weren't. I noticed one odd symptom I hadn't heard of before: you can wake up in the night unable to breathe. But relax - it's just your body's auto systems adjusting to the lower oxygen content. And lo and behold, that night I woke up unable to breathe! If I hadn't read the bumf I would have panicked, it was a horrible feeling. But because I had I just relaxed and started breathing normally and went back to sleep.

Day 10: Thimpu

The whole day was spent sightseeing in and around Thimpu. It rained, but not very hard - more of a drizzle really. First stop was the post office.



What's going on on the steps there is a school project. The pupils (in purple and blue) were setting up a health check - they were planning to measure people's height, weigh them and take their blood pressure. They want to study whether the more sedentary modern lifestyle is causing health problems.

After that, we visited the school for tradtional crafts - painting, embroidery, metalwork, carving, weaving.





The embroidery was very fine work, a combination of applique and stitches so perfect that the back was as neat as the front. All the trades seemed to be six-year courses. And they were treated as trades - there was very little creative work. The emphasis was on the perfection of technique by copying traditional designs. The idea is that graduates can set up in business in their chosen trade.

In the drawing class one boy showed us his worksheets for just one design. He copied it in pencil, using set square and protractor to get the angles and proportions right, then painted over the lines in black ink using a brush so fine it was just a couple of hairs. The teacher marked in red where the design went wrong. Each copy had fewer and fewer red lines, until finally one was awarded a tick - perfect! Then it was on to the next design. This was the first year of the painting course - we didn't get to see any actual painting, which was a bit disappointing. I think all the classes we visited were first-years.



After touring around the classrooms it was on to the school's shop, where I bought some paintings and a necklace. The paintings are lovely - the ones I got for myself are a buddha and a wheel of life. The necklace was a last-minute whim purchase - I thought it was ceramic beads. But later on I realised it was wood and bone inlaid with coral and turquoise, with silver spacers and beads. The fastening is a cunning slider made by knotting the cord. Very, very nice!

The decoration above the shop door caught my eye:



A fertility symbol - you see them everywhere. Didn't see any for sale though!!

Next stop was a folk heritage museum. According to the itinerary we should have visited the national library but it's closed at the weekend. It was the same with the national museum in Paro - we were there on a Monday but it's closed on Mondays.





The actual museum at the folk heritage museum was also closed, but we still got to see the best part - a traditional house. It was pretty interesting - the animals were kept in the ground floor, the second floor was storage, then upstairs from that the kitchen, livingroom etc, plus a chapel room, and then an open upper floor under the roof, for drying hay, veges and so on. It was all very airy and open and sturdy, and all the implements and furniture were nice too - plain and practical, apart from the chapel of course, which was hung with brocade banners.





Outside there was a water-driven prayer wheel and flour mill, plus fields of rice, corn and other vegetables, and apple trees.





After that we did some more shopping, this time at the Handicraft Emporium, a wonderful big shop chock full of goodies. Oh to have a huge suitcase and unlimited funds!! Some of the group went a little mad in there: Christine bought a whole Bhutanese outfit - the skirt, blouse, jacket and belt. She looked really lovely in it. She also got an incredibly beautiful embroidered jacket - soft cashmere hand-embroidered all over with flowers in jewel colours. Judy gto a jacket too.

Back to the hotel then to offload our booty and have lunch - another tasty feast. And on to our next hightlight, the Tashichhodzong, "the fortress of the glorious religion". It's a giant complex, housing both the offices of the king and of the head of the monastic body. It was built in 1962 after the original place burnt down - a real hazard when everything's built of wood.

For the visit to the dzong, Tshering put on his special shawl, or kabney, the colour of which (white) shows his status as an ordinary person. Various other colours and styles and methods of tying show gradations of status and authority. He pointed out a soldier who was wearing a gho rather than a uniform, but who was wearing a sash that showed his military authority.



There were other rules too: no hats or head coverings of any kind, including umbrellas (though I couldn't help but notice this didn't apply to soldiers in uniform, whose berets stayed firmly on). It was still raining so this caused consternation in the group, some of whom had a horror of getting even a wee bit damp. We did a lot of hovering under the eaves and dashing across courtyards. There's a little film on youtube that shows Chotse Penlop, the new young king, at Tashichhodzong - you can see some of the elaborate shawls the high ranks wear.

Back on earth, after our bags were searched we were allowed through to the courtyard. Here are some of my photos:













No photos in the main temple of course, so I took a lot of very careful mental snapshots, because it has just been repainted for the young king's coronation in November, so it is looking particularly spectacular. It's a huge space - double or triple height in the centre and with a deep mezzanine. The ceiling height soars even in the mezzanine, so the whole effect is light and airy. Three walls are covered in images of the Buddha - paintings on the back wall and part of the side walls, and glassed-in niches with little statues on the rest of the wall space.

In pride of place is a huge golden Buddha, a shimmering vision at least two storeys high. Curving over him is an archway carved with animals and flowers and leaves, painted in vivid colours in stunning detail. In front of the Buddha are two low thrones, one for the king and one for the head monk. They are carved with dragons, gilded on a red background with touches of white highlights - again, in gorgeous detail and skill. The cushions are yellow brocade silk.

At either side of the Buddha are the Bodhisattva - the Buddha before enlightenment - and the future Buddha, Maitreya, both statues gorgeously painted. In front of the altar were the offerings, including the lovely butter ornaments the monks make. Here's a link to a photo of some Tibetan butter sculptures to give you an idea of how beautiful they are.

The benches for the monks are covered in rugs and brocade, very plush-looking. The overall effect is intensely decorated. It reminded me of some of the cathedrals I've seen in France.

There was no chanting going on while we were there, because it was Sunday - the monks' day off!

Back in the bus, we stopped on the hill to look back at the dzong:



Our next stop was to view a real oddity, the national animal. It's the takin, an animal so unusual it took DNA research to show that even though it looks a bit like a goat or an antelope or a musk ox, it's more related to sheep.

Needless to say, the myth of the takin is much more entertaining: it was created by a visiting lama, Drukpa Kunley ("the divine madman"), in the 15th century. A crowd of devotees wanted him to perform a miracle, but he wanted to eat first, and demanded a whole cow and a goat. He scoffed the lot, leaving the bones. And then he stuck the goat's head on the cow's bones and voila! With a snap of his fingers there was the takin, which immediately started grazing. Kunley was renowned for his ability to enlighten people, particularly women ... and he's commemorated in the many, many phallic symbols you see in Bhutan.

Anyway, the takin we saw were in a nature reserve. The story goes that there used to be a zoo, but the king decided zoos weren't compatible with right living, so all the animals were released. But the takin didn't take to freedom and ended up roaming the streets of Thimpu looking for food. So a nice low-key reserve was created for them and they live happily in fenced-off fields.

No pix of the takin, but here are some very cute puppies instead:



The final stop was rather nice - a chorten or stupa built to commemorate the late king. None of my photos were any good so I won't bore you with them ... have a look here. It was really nice to visit. People come and walk round the building saying prayers. The atmosphere is tranquil and contemplative. People of all ages were there, from grannies to school kids, all just circling the stupa quietly or spinning the prayer wheels off to the side.

We went out to dinner, to a restaurant called the Bhutan Kitchen. It was a nice place, with low tables and low stools, and a man playing a dulcimer. Sadly most of the food we had was carefully de-spiced, but there was a fully-charged dish of chillies and cheese, yum! We had a lovely evening, really nice.











And so to bed... but not before I'd joined a few of the others in the Druk's cocktail bar. What a bizarre place! I had a pina colada, which made the barman's night - he loves making cocktails and hardly ever gets to do it. And no wonder! The bar had the most hideous, oppressive decor, with weird ugly colours and mad industrial furniture - steel tables and stools with bicycle seats. But the drink was great! The best pina colada I've ever had.

And the excitement didn't end there - there was a mini-riot in the street outside the hotel very late on, with a lot of shouting and screeching (in English, I might add, so not involving locals), and that set the dogs off. Between that and the hard beds, I don't think anyone got much sleep.

Day 9: Phuntsholing to Thimpu

All aboard for the white-knuckle ride!!



The road from Phuntsholing to Thimpu was the most thrilling journey I've ever made. It's very narrow, clinging to steep, forested hillsides. Because it's the main trade route to India it's also very busy, with laden lorries travelling both ways, plus buses and private cars, and the increasing tourist traffic. So, the Bhutanese government decided to widen the road. This is no mean feat, as you can imagine. Blasting is out of the question, because of the risk of landslides. So the extra width has to be drilled and chipped and dug out of the hillside by hand.



Work started a year ago and will take another five years to complete. Bhutan has only a small population - 650,000 - and a high employment rate, so labour has to be imported from India. The hundreds of workers strung out along the road live in encampments of shacks. They use the many mountain streams as their water supply, grow vegetables and even keep cows and chickens. They get 100 rupees a day, plus free medical care, education for their children and staple foods: rice and lentils. They are on six-month contracts, which they can renew.

In return they work very hard, in dangerous conditions, men and women equally. Despite the risks, they are amazingly cheerful and friendly, waving and smiling as we went by. We were held up by a bulldozer at one point and I had a chat with some of them - as much of a chat as you can have without much shared language! Many were having their meal break, tucking in to tiffin boxes of rice and curry.







Because the road is so dangerous, it's closed from 4pm until the morning, and closed all day Sunday as well. Tshering said that means if you are heading for Phuntsholing, say, and you don't get to the shut-off point until 4.15pm, you're stuck until the morning.

He told us about a terrible landslide last year, I think it was, that swept away a road workers' camp, killing about 30 people. When the rescuers got down to the wreckage, far down in the gorge, they found three lorries that had gone over the edge at some point in the past and not been reported.



Once the road has been widened, retaining walls are built, and then drainage gutters are built at the bottom. The designing was done by German engineers and it's supervised by Bhutanese.



We did see some of these walls that had already been damaged by landslides, and sometimes there were rocks strewn across the road. On one particularly exciting stretch, there was an overhang of rock and earth with actual trees growing in it that looked as if it would crash down at any minute. We had to wait to let a whole stream of traffic go past.





And of course on the other side was a sheer drop over a very crumbly-looking edge, with a very long way to go to the bottom.



I loved every terrifying minute of the roadworks, a stretch of about 100km of the road. Gopal says he drives it about twice a week in the tourist season. "My wife is not very happy, but I like it," he says cheerfully.

We stopped for lunch at a "tourist cafeteria" - once we got through the roadwork section we passed quite a few villages with tempting-looking restaurants, but it seems they've set up a special watering-hole just for visitors. Oh well, it was very nice, and the proprietor was completely charming, alternately solemn and giggly.

There's a huge highlight coming up in November in Bhutan - the coronation of the king. It's a bit complicated, because there are kind of two kings at the moment. The senior king, Jigme Singye Wangchuck, abdicated last year in favour of his eldest son, Jigme Khesar Namgyel Wangchuck. This was after he'd made the country a democracy. "Many people didn't want democracy," Tshering explained. "But the king insisted." So in November, Khesar is being crowned and it's a huge deal. There'll be a big influx of visitors and everyone's looking forward to it. The cafeteria boss giggled when we asked if he'd be going to any of the celebrations. "I'd love to, but I think I will be too busy!"

After the coronation, Khesar will be going on a grand tour of the country, visiting every little corner to get to know everyone. He already spends a lot of time trekking and so on, and is fantastically popular. Lots of people wear buttons with pictures of the kings on them - young people mostly have Khesar buttons.

More fascinating facts about the Wangchuks: Singye has four wives, all sisters. They each have a house and Singye visits; there are ten children altogether. The wives are all great friends, we were assured. You can spot a member of the royal family - they drive Range Rovers and their number plates read BHUTAN. Sort of the ultimate vanity plate.

It's not just royalty that can have extra spouses: regular folk can have two. Yes, that's right ladies: you can have two husbands. Both Gopal and Tshering said they thought one wife was plenty, thank you very much.

So, after a nice lunch we piled back in the bus. The drive took about nine hours in the end... I think so anyway. The road was now less thrilling, but just as interesting. We passed through settlements of farmhouses set amid fields of red rice, sweetcorn, various greens, fruit trees and flowers. The houses looked solid, snug and secure, all with red chillies drying on the roofs.



We also saw our first dzong, or fortress. Can you spot it?



Buildings are all constructed in traditional style, using wood and bricks and stone.



Only the roofs are modern - traditionally they were covered in wooden shingles, which had to be renewed every few years. But this uses too much wood, so now roofs are either iron or locally mined slate. Bhutan is mostly forest, but conservation rules, so timber exports are banned.

Another traditional feature is clothing. Here's Tshering in the men's outfit:



It's called a gho, and it's all in one piece - you kind of climb into the kilt part and pull the jacket up. The sash, or kera, is separate, and so is the white part, an undershirt with very long sleeves that fold back over the gho sleeves. When we first met Tshering he had the jacket down and the arms tied around his waist - he was wearing a polo shirt under it. The crossover forms a big pouch that men use as a big pocket - wallet, mobile phone, hanky ... it all goes in the pouch. For some reason most men wear argyll socks. The women's dress is a long wraparound skirt, a kira, worn with a blouse (wonju) and a short jacket (toego).

Tshering says the traditional outfit is the equivalent of a business suit in the west - it's something you wear to work or on formal occasions. The only time it's compulsory is when you're visiting a dzong. School uniforms are all traditional style outfits, but girls wear sweat suits for athletics and so on. The big exception is soldiers and police officers - none of them are wearing the gho.

At last the bus trundled in to Thimpu, where we had time for a little stroll around before dinner. The hotel was another Druk, with those board-hard traditional style beds, argh. But in every other aspect it was lovely. We were smitten with the waiters - when they came round offering second helpings they seemed disappointed if you said no thanks - "Ah..." and overjoyed if you said yes. "Yes! Yes!"



Thimpu is a big country town, but is growing fast, with a huge luxury hotel springing up and a couple of new housing estates have recently been built. All traditional style of course. But it's still got a down-home flavour, with the main street lined with little shops and traffic at the main roundabout conducted by a policeman in a rotunda. They did experiment with traffic lights, but drivers got too confused and no-one liked them, so they went back to the personal touch.