The Bhutanchal Buccaneers

Day 3: April 12^th

Thimpu-Paro-Tiger’s Nest- Thimpu

The sun rises pretty early in Thimpu or so we found out. I was awake by the time it was 0630 hours. Kenny, in his usual flair, was up and awake before that and went about his duties of waking the others up. Gyan by now was feeling dandy too. For some reason we decided to have breakfast at some other restaurant and by 0730 hours we were out of the hotel and looking for some avenues to have our breakfast. I was particularly keen on a café that served conventional coffees and also offered free wi-fi. Dutta wisely suggested that the amount we spent on the coffee would easily cover breakfast at another restaurant plus surfing charges at an internet café.I sheepishly grinned letting him know he was right but I was still keen on trying that place out. To our dismay almost all restaurants were still yet to open and we went about looking in vain for quite a few cafes. But all of them seemed to open at 0900 hours and we still had a lot of time to kill before that.

Sense prevailed over us and we headed into a small snack shop and to our relief saw some buns and noodles and found out they were serving tea. Doley was immediately mistaken for a Monk and the “ elderly woman behind the counter in a small town” started talking to him in Zonkha and a bewildered Doley even started nodding his head in response, adding to the confusion!!

Tea and sweet buns were ordered for all of us and then Gyan ventured over to the counter to check out what seemed like pork. Very eagerly Gyan and Doley ordered for a dish and it was then that the elderly lady’s daughter informed us it was beef. Still raring to go, we ordered for one plate and then the finer details of the dish came up. It wasn’t just beef, it was lungs of the animal. Not to be put off, Dutta eagerly ordered for one and the guys digged in. I wasn’t particularly in the mood for beef early morning, so I gave it a pass. Not Dutta though – he was hell bent on finishing the stuff even though his side of the table looked like a battle ground! Coming to Dutta – we all realized through this trip that Dutta has an affinity for the feline species of the animal kingdom. So much so that he even called a Dalmatian Pussy in the small café!!

The dog was actually called Russo by the elderly lady, but our icon decided to add glamour to that name and rechristened it Pussy!!

We paid up, offered our thank yous and headed towards the taxi stand for a ride to Paro. We were told by Kinley that it would take 150 bucks each to get us there from Thimpu to Paro. We arrived at the taxi stand not too far from our hotel to find out that if we wanted to go on a shared basis we’d have to wait till the taxi filled up completely and that meant waiting for another 2 persons to turn up. It was getting trifle impatient for us and then suddenly out of nowhere one taxi fellow offered to take us around for 2k to Paro, the nearby places and back. We would have spent 1500 bucks anyway and having a guaranteed means of coming back to Thimpu didn’t seem like a bad offer. So we went off about it, but then some other driver offered the same and turned out to be a friend of the present driver. So we hopped cars and off we went for the hour long drive to Paro.

The roads were inviting to say the least. The driver also turned out to be friendly. Heck, everyone is friendly in Bhutan. Its one of the very very few countries where Indians are actually liked. The people there like to think of India and Bhutan as siblings. A fact evident with the presence of Indian Army, Indian Oil and our very own Border Roads Organisation. We picked up on Bhutan from where we had left off with Kinley, gathering more info on this place were roaming in now. I went about asking about jobs in Bhutan and the car prices. I even tried to find out how much would a second hand pajero cost in Thimpu, what it takes to patafy a Boom and get married, the house rentals, the works. Bhutan is primarily a monarchy but they do have elections for governmental posts, but it is the King who calls the shots and we were told

the King is a very young and pro-people person, something very evident from numerous photos of him at almost every shop and corner. There are no import duties on cars there, so one gets a Prado for a measly 17 lacs and so on. There was once taxes levied upon the cars, but it turned out to be so unpopular it had to be withdrawn. The King is also very approachable it seems – any one with a genuine grievance can make an appeal and meet the King. Our very own taxi driver had been to the Royal Palace with a consortium of taxi drivers and had high tea at the Palace and came back with a gift of the traditional dress right from His Majesty himself.

The road to Tiger’s nest took us through the Paro airport and we could see an Airbus coming is for a landing. It was pretty wild to see the airplane making those banks among the mountains and line up for the relatively short runway at the Paro International Airport.

We were soon in Paro and we crossed the town taking in the amazing views that the town provided us with. I was particularly amazed by the girls and it was frustratingly difficult to figure out whether the girls were cuter or whether it was the babies!! It seemed one was beautiful by default – just get born in Bhutan and you are one beauty without blemish. All these girls have this innocent look on their faces that tend to melt you right away. Stay for a longer time and I bet you’ll be in for it – hook, line and sinker.

Soon we were at the base of the trek towards Tiger’s nest and it was evident from the plethora of cars and vans parked there that Tiger’s Nest received its fair share of visitors any given day. Our driver parked the taxi and said he’d wait for us till we finished our trek, which he assumed would take 90 minutes one way. We corrected him saying that we will take more than that. Sometimes our premonitions turn out dead right you see. There were some beverage stands right at the base, and each of us stocked up with a small bottle of litchi juice and 500 ml of good old water.

I was apprehensive right away when we saw the monastery from far away. It was perched on a sheer cliff and it gave you the shudders just to think about living in it. Well then, we started on our journey to the much much revered Tiger’s Nest aka Taktsang Monastery. Ten steps into the incline and I blurted out I was dead beat, much to the guffaws of the guys. We did have to soldier on, so we toiled on. The trek was torturous to put it in mild words. Well, guys of “normal” health might find the trek a bit steep but nevertheless very much doable. With us it was a different story altogether. I can’t say much about Kenny but he seems to have some extra juice in him with those titanium re-enforcements. The surgeon might have put in some terminator kind of battery thingee inside him I guess. But Gyan and I were struggling to scale the narrow mountain trek. We were out of breath and no sooner had we covered some teeny weenie distance, our bottles were broken open and we started sipping on the juice to gather some sugary energy. It was like nature was telling us on the face to either shape up or ship out. Respect. Respect.

The trek is full of prayer flags stretched from one end to the other, the ends seeming to start off anywhere and everywhere. Buddhist people believe the wind carries the prayers on the flags. They burn the prayer flags when they get dirty. I had got some prayer flags from Spiti valley. Still haven’t hung them anywhere – too scared they will get dirty and I’ll have to burn them off!! They are beautiful, things of peace and calm and the sight of those prayer flags fluttering in the wind carries a sense of tranquil on its own. There are prayer flags even on tree-tops , right at the apex and the branches are too thin to be supporting any man’s or child’s weight. So we were left wondering how the flags could have been masted on the tree-tops. Gyan, the knowledgeable guy, came to the rescue. He announced that when the tree was small, say 20 years back, the flags were tied onto the top and as it grew, carried the flags with it. Feasible, very feasible we told him – in outright mockery! In the end sense prevailed and it was deduced that Doley, the long lost monk, had tied this flag on top of the tree and now he was back to his roots or rather tree tops!!

The trek seemed never ending to us. In this while I would be stopping for quite some time, taking my own sweet time to click pics and just stare into the distance and get lost in thoughts. I also had found a way to get some respite from the climb. I would climb some 20-25 steps and then take a breather for about 10 seconds and would start off again. This seemed to be working on me and was able to gain some lost ground but lost it all again when I stopped for some more time off on my own.

Fortunately, there were watering holes en-route and they were gushing with cool spring water straight from the mountains- clean and clear as day. The water also tasted extremely good, a fact pointed out by Kenny. We filled up our depleting bottles and continued on. Came across some other trekkers on the way and would wait to chat up for a while before we caught our breath and resumed the ordeal. Finally, we came across a clearing that was just about halfway to the monastery. There was a cafeteria and everyone we had met on our way had suggested we take in some refreshments before embarking on the trek once again. We weren’t about to argue with that or rather we had no strength to veto the suggestions and we headed for the Taktsang Café – a restaurant run by the Bhutan Tourism Corporation. A very neat and well laid out café, looking straight out into the Taktsang monastery. We pulled up chairs and ordered for tea and biscuits since there was only a veg buffet lined up and were on a full non –veg diet through the entire trip! Everyone took their time to soak in the views, to take photos of the unending subjects the environ provided us with, to just sit on the chair and reflect on whatever came into your thoughts. I hi-jacked Dutta’s iPod touch and sat up nice and easy on a chair overlooking the monastery at the distance, set the iPod on “don’t panic” by Coldplay and had one of the most badly needed calm moments in recent times.

It was around noon and we had started an hour back and we weren’t even halfway there. So we decided not to linger our asses and limbs there and walk on, as one would say “keep walking”! Funny, I swear at that time everyone had taken up a resolution to either cut down radically on alcohol or abhor from cigarettes. Resolutions at tiring times are quickly forsaken as we did ourselves that very evening!!The monastery would look near at some point and again far away from another, but always looked formidable and inaccessible, something achievable only with the grittiest of determination. It worked like a pep talk and did wonders to hasten the pace.

We carried on nevertheless, the vegetation growing dense and the light growing low. There were clouds closing in and at some points of time it had actually drizzled. We finally arrived at a vantage point where we could see the monastery in all its glory. We chatted with a guide who happened to be providing his services for some far-eastern tourists. We could finally have a group shot taken with the tiger’s nest at the backdrop and we didn’t miss that chance at all. It was lunch time for the monastery and it was closed for an hour, but there were some other places on the way to explore like the friendly guide informed us. From that vantage point it was a steep flight of seemingly never ending stone steps, sometimes frighteningly dizzy and always dead tiring! There was a waterfall on the way that seemed to be falling from a cliff side that was nearly 90 degrees vertical – I’m not fibbing here because when you look up to see the fall of water all you see is the clear blue sky.

I lingered on to take snaps of the place while the guys climbed atop one of the rocks near the fall and just sat about enjoying the cool air that was in the vicinity of the waterfall. I too wanted to join them and tried to circumnavigate some rocks and get onto the same rock. Even through my pair of woodlands I could make out that the rocks were stone cold. Icy.

There was another temple situated right in a crevice between the two towering mountains and at a place only the Buddhists could have thought of building a temple. Same goes for the monastery. The very fact that there are cracks in the face of the cliff that the monastery is built on top of makes your Goosebumps perk up and your hair prickle. Some of us went to check out the cave temple, while I decided to cool my heels. We all regrouped after a while and proceeded towards the entrance of the Tiger’s Nest. The entry gate was a modest door. It had to be. There was absolutely no space to build a grand one. We went further up the steps till we came upon the entrance….finally, after a 2 hour arduous and ass-whipping trek, make that a mountain scaling. There was a large board with some rules noted down and the ones that mattered to us were that we wouldn’t be able to carry our cameras or camcorders. The monastery had just opened up and there were three guards to put our belongings in safe custody over the counter. We deposited our bottles, cameras, mobiles, everything except our wallets and got ourselves frisked by one of the guards. The guard that stashed away our stuff felt generous and friendly and decided to take us on a guided tour of the monastery. We weren’t complaining and we followed him like puppies, asking questions whenever we found it a bit difficult to understand his very very druk accented Hindi. We were taken everywhere of the monastery, every nook and corner, every stupa, every crevice, every temple, every holy water hole – thanks to the guard’s enthusiasm. The guard also didn’t lose the chance to make wisecracks at Dutta asking him time and again whether he was ok cause he looked tired and disheveled thanks to his unkempt hair and unshaven face! This started one of the major chains of the great leg pulling of the awesome Dutta aka John throughout the entire trip.

We went to the main temple and there we had to take our shoes off. We were allowed to keep our socks on though. The floor of the entire monastery must have been clocking something like 5-6 degrees and I had a hard time keeping my feet at the same place for more than 10 seconds, always looking for a warmer spot to place my feet on. We offered our prayers in all earnest. That place brings a sense of reverie, a deep sense of respect and our minds automatically tune into a no-nonsense mode. We were also taken to the cliff side of the monastery where tales of old mythology were narrated by the guard. Looking down the cliff side presents an immensely awe-inspiring view in itself. The monastery is perched right upto the farthest inch of the flat space on the edge of the cliff and it looked fragile, yet boldly making its presence felt. A culmination of opposites.

We wondered with awe as to what could have inspired someone to build such a formidable temple at such a formidable height and through trials and tribulations that we can only hope to conjure up in our wildest imaginations. As if that was not enough, the guard pointed upwards towards the very peak of the adjoining mountain and there was another small temple dedicated to a goddess. It was called temple of heaven and very rightly so. One had to look at it to really gauge the sheer spirit of the human devotion that led to the building of such a temple. No amount of space-tech photography will be able to capture the essence of the sight. The temple itself is formidable and we were left wondering how frightening the path to it might be when the guard informed us that there is a narrow ledge-way that led to the temple. There has also been death of a priest when he had fallen off a scaffolding perched on iron stakes driven into the rock. One gets shaken at the very thought.

With a sweep of the entire temple, we came across the place that is actually called Tiger’s Nest. It’s a narrow crevice that leads into some hard-to-squeeze-into caves and which also opens onto the sheer face of the cliff. One misstep and you are on a 9.81 m2/sec free fall to your death. The guard egged us on to explore but one look at the sky from the inside of the crevice killed whatever adventurous thoughts I had in my mind. We found out that these caves were where tiger’s had made homes in early days and hence the name. Kinley had also offered a different version of the story, will have to look up on some texts before we decide to zero in one theory.

Thereafter we made our way back to the entrance, had some photographs clicked with the guard and bade goodbye to the guards. We were lucky to have had an entertaining guide with us that day, we really were. And then started the long climb up the steep steps. The huffing and puffing syndrome was back and soon I was back to taking 5 steps at one go, 10 seconds of rest and then at it again.

After we reached the vantage point I had mentioned earlier it was a cake walk. Just at that point Gyan and I saw a young Druk guy carrying a full bag of cement on his back and making his way to a small temple under construction. I was just too dumbfounded to even say anything. I wanted to from the bottom of my heart. I wanted to speak to the young guy. But I had nothing to say. He had carried the bag all the way up to the temple on his back, while we were struggling with just our body weights. A deep sense of shame prevailed over me and I just stared at him. That guy just earned my everlasting respect. I was in such a state that I couldn’t even take a photograph of him and it was only after a long long time that it buzzed into me. I should have talked to him. I should have taken a photo of him. It’s a remorse I will have for a long time.

The way back was nondescript for me, but quite otherwise for Kenny as I found out. Halfway down the trek where we had stopped for refreshments, there were some local vendors who were selling souvenirs and all of them happened to be Booms (nice ones yet again). I don’t know how, but Kenny had managed to strike up a conversation with not one but two of them!! He was stealing my thunder – here I was looking for a staid Boom to settle down with and there he goes crushing my prospects!!

Another 45 minutes and we reached base. The driver must have been tired stiff waiting for us. We had taken a good 5 hours to reach back at point zero. Tea was ordered for some and some decided for litchi juice from the same vendors. It was getting dark and we decided to hit the road towards Thimpu after finishing off the juice and water.

We didn’t have much time to wander around Paro as in the original plan plus it was getting dark. So we went off straight to Thimpu. Kenny dealt another blow when he waved a loud and cheery goodbye to the Booms he had talked to, while I was made to be content with watching the Booms from the back seat of the taxi, which wasn’t too bad either. I was back to staring at the Booms and wondering how the heck they get to be so beautiful.

Anyway, on the return the driver took us through another route that overlooked the Paro airport and the airstrip. I was back to my info-gathering mode and was asking the driver how much moolah the pilots made, whether they were expats or local people and so forth. Gyan commented that I shouldn’t become a pilot or else I would be scraping the flight and scaring the shit out of the passengers! First the bike, then the car and now the plane!!

It was getting to be dark, and we were left wondering if we should visit the golden Buddha the next morning or make it there right then. Keeping the Buddha point for the next morning meant we had to take a bus around noon, which meant we’d be late by the time we reached Madarihat. We wanted to reach Phuentsholing by noon so that we could savour the food of Zen restaurant once again, so we decided to go to the Buddha point then and there even if it meant getting to see it behind closed gates.

It was a steep climb to the point and the driver pointed out to many SUVs and cars parked on the road, saying they were of couples who wanted to be “alone”. Nobody bothered them it seems. I loved the country a bit more! We also learnt more about the country, how it takes care of the medical bills, how education is encouraged through government sponsorships and all the more reasons to like this country.

We reached the Buddha point, a towering Statue of the Buddha, bathed in gold welcomed us, albeit behind closed gates. The place was still under construction, and when it opens to the public I have no doubt it is going to be a place of inspiration for the masses. The Buddha seemed to be overlooking the entire city of Thimpu and even looking at the statue brought about a sense of calm inside. We tried to take whatever photos possible in the disappearing light and decided to head back to the hotel.

We also decided to go souvenir hunting since it was the last evening in Bhutan. Dutta went about buying razors. He was pissed off with the royal guard at the monastery and was a man on a mission. Kenny and I picked up solar powered prayer wheels. This was the start of Gyan’s indomitable antics and self-crucifixions that will provide us with unparalleled laughter for years to come! We do get these solar powered sunflowers there both in Bhutan as well in Delhi. Gyan asked us, miffed faced, why the hell we were buying the solar flower when we could get it back in Delhi. A stare back at him and a pointer to the solar powered prayer wheel had us all in splits – even the salesgirls. Gyan, our “underweight” darling, spreads happiness everywhere, as it was proved time and again.

Once into the hotel, we decided to get fresh and open the absolutely beautiful looking K5 whiskey. Snacks, that’s read pork, were ordered and not to leave behind Kenny, a fair share of chicken was also ordered. It was a Tuesday and we enquired at the reception whether we would be able to drink in our rooms. The sweet chap just smiled and told us we could in a way that can never be described through words. Ok maybe an attempt won’t hurt- so when we just whispered to him if we could get drunk in our room he just made a comment that it’s a dry day so we should just – and then he made an upward swooping motion with his hands and gave us a cute smile!

We all piled into Gyan’s room and started the mehfil for the evening. The pork, 3 plates of it, disappeared within the second pegs. So we ordered for 2 plates more. Strange, I could swear the 2 plates had just about the same servings as the 3 plates. But we didn’t complain, we had begun to love this place too much to complain about anything.

We all piled into the restaurant after the booze ran dry. I collected the fine bottle and packed it. It was going to be holding a proud stand in my growing collection of trophies – empty bottles of exotic and good whiskies and wines. Pork was again ordered and by that time the reception guy was aware of the fact that pork was the staple food for us. We decided I and Doley would run to the bus station early morning to get tickets for us. We decided we would take the bus back to Phuentsholing and give the taxi a miss. The buses there were Toyota Coasters that were equally, if not more, comfortable than the Versas. I didn’t stick around for much and headed back to our room and after packing off my stuff, promptly hit the sack and snoozed off.