Okay, so today is the day of the General Election back home, and I’m actually (for the first time) feeling a bit homesick. Not because I’m missing anybody or anything, purely because the political situation seems interesting enough that I would like to observe.
Anyways…since the last post I’ve been having a wander through the lovely, beautiful and happy place that is Bhutan (and there aren’t an awful lot of internet connections, so I’ve not been able to tell you about it on my way).
Day 33 and 34:
We left Paro (the airport town) to drive through Thimpu (the capital), and then onwards to Punakha, the former capital city.
After lunch, and checking into our hotel, we visited a couple of monasteries and the spectacular c17th fortrees (Dzong) in Punakha, which looked beautiful amongst the Jacaranda trees along the river.
Jacaranda trees, Punakha Dzong, Bhutan
Many houses and businesses in the Punakha valley feature phallic symbols painted on the walls, as a fertility ritual.
Phallic fertility symbols, Punakha valley, Bhutan
This was started “The Divine Madman” (well, a self-styled reincarnation of the c.15th Bhutanese legend) (I found a book on the legend in Thimpu, now in my rucksack).
I’ve also met “The Divine Madman” (well, a self-styled reincarnation of the c.15th Bhutanese legend) in our host “Uncle” at Hotel YT in Punakha. It was obviously easier for me to get a job behind the bar….
“Uncle YT”, and my temporary Bhutanese bar job
Note the spirit called ‘White Mischief’ (front right). It sure was…also, it was one of our travel group’s Birthday, so “dinner” took more of a cake-and-alcohol turn:
Dinner of Bhutanese beer, 25-year-old whiskey and arrack!
The next day, we (groggily!) hiked up to Khasum Yulley Namgyal Chorten high on a hill beyond Punakha. And some of us (well, me) hiked up even further to the Queen Mother of Bhutan’s Summer House. Absolutely zero security, too. It’s the happy place, remember…
Khasum Yulley Namgyal Chorten, Bhutan
We also had a potentially ill-advised go at the national sport of Archery (suprisingly, no-one got killed!) and a beautiful riverside picnic, then visited Punakha Dzong properly. I made some sound recordings of the ceremonial brass horns inside the main temple, but sharing them with you would involve me working out how to upload them. Another day…
The day started with the short drive to Wangdue Phodrang, and a visit to the monastery. It’s amazing how young children are sent to monastery school, and mostly because their parents can’t afford to feed and clothe them. This lad was only just six, and I just wanted to scoop him up and give him a massive hug;
Trainee monk, Wangdue Phodrang, Bhutan
Wangdue Phodrang town itself is perched on a hilltop, almost above the clouds. The sights and vibrant colours of the market were stunning:
Wangdue Phodrang, Bhutan
Driving onwards to Gangtey (via a tea-stop amusingly called ‘Nob-ding’!), we had chance encounter with the recently (2 weeks ago, and on a tour around Bhutan) deceased body of the latest re-incarnation of Guru Rinpoche and his funeral cortege and celebrations.
Monks and mourners outside the memorial service, Gangtey, Bhutan
The evening was spent at a homestay in the Gangtey Valley, where I was lucky enough to sleep in the family’s prayer room. Really quite something, and clearly not going to happen again in a hurry. These experiences are why I love to travel.
Now we’re back west, in the capital city of Thimpu. We’re halfway through our 2 days here to see the capital and it’s Dzong, parliament, markets…more to come tomorrow.
One of my favourite photos from the market was this kid happily playing with cardboard, whilst his mother sold vegetables:
Bhutanese kid-in-a-box, Thimpu market
Earlier I had time to buy some of the lovely Bhutanese national dress as a souvenir:
Okay the half-kira isn’t tied too well, but you should get the gist (and a laugh)…!
Two and a bit days before I leave Bhutan, a week before I’m back in London. This isn’t right, right…?!
And, as a closing gambit, I have mostly been listening to Elbow’s ‘The Seldom-Seen Kid’ (particularly ‘One Day Like This’) and Frank Turner’s ‘Love, Ire And Song’. So many times that I suspect that those albums will always be synonymous with this trip. This is not a bad thing.