Temples, Mountains and Hot Stones

  Paro, Bhutan
Wednesday, December 26, 2007

Chimmi Lakhang was my favourite temple in Bhutan.  We had driven over the Dochoha Pass, dusted with fresh snow, and stopped to walk among the 108 chortens fanning out from a central stupa, with the glittering white Bhutanese Himalaya calling from the horizon.  Descending steeply from this high altitude, we arrived in a contrasting landscape of orange trees and cacti in an idyllic valley.  From here, we walked past the traditional village houses, through cultivated terraces now dusty and brown after the harvest, and up to the pretty little temple set in flag-decked trees.  Along the track we passed several couples wending their way up to the temple bearing small bags of fruit and incense offerings.  I understood its popularity when I entered and witnessed the lama using an ancient archery bow to bestow fertility blessings on several women... ah, not again!  I steered well clear this time, making myself inconspicuous in the corner, examining the walls closely!  The walls were, in fact, worth the close scrutiny, painted with murals depicting scenes from the life of the much-loved 'Divine Madman', Bhutan's most colourful Buddhist saint, who took a very unorthodox approach to his religious duties and his vows... 
  


   It was a day of beautiful buildings as we drove on to the gorgeous Punakha Dzong, built at the confluence of two glacial turquoise rivers, and accessed by a rickety wooden bridge across which some young monklets were scampering, robes hitched up round their knees.  Passing through the huge courtyard, we entered the main temple which was more ornate than any of the others I had seen, with every surface decorated in exquisite detail, including fabulous green and gold based murals of the life of the Buddha all around the walls.  Even with my limited background knowledge, I could appreciate that this was a true artistic feast.  
 
 
 
 



Our last stop was in Wangdue where I wandered amid the tumbledown shops.  We visited the crumbling Wangdue Dzong on a ridge overlooking a valley and while it was nothing special in close-up that evening, the following morning was different.  We made an early start, driving along the mist-shrouded river with the Dzong just visible, jutting eerily out of the hazy air, while children herded cattle along the road, monks stood trying to thumb a lift and women walked by with babies strapped to their backs.  
 

We climbed the road snaking up the mountainside, through trees in autumnal shades with occasional temple roofs sticking up enticingly.  As we gained height, the rhododendron forest gave way to firs, with a layer of snow at their bases and the vista across the valley opened up, showing the bare Black Mountains with a few distant snowy peaks behind them.  Crossing the prayer flag-strewn Lawala Pass (3400m.), I spotted a group of yaks with a baby grazing in the icy grass and envied them their heavy hair coats... it was cold up there!  A sharp 300m. descent brought us to Gangtey Goemba (monastery) with its views over the lovely Phobjika Valley and we took a hike down into the valley, spotting the elegant black-necked cranes who winter here.  It felt good to be out in the air and to get a taste of Bhutan's rugged terrain.  Towards the end of the hike I tried to chat with two young kids hanging off a fence and as a result we were invited into the farmhouse for tea, by their mother.  As guests, we were ushered into the Altar Room, the best room in the house, where we sat on small mattresses and drank rank yak butter tea with the stuffed corpses of a mongoose and two vicious-looking wild cats dangling from the ceiling above our heads.  They had been caught and killed by dogs when they tried to attack the chickens and this was their fate.  
 
 
            
 

On my last night in Bhutan, I indulged in the traditional Bhutanese hot stone bath, which was the ideal place to contemplate my week of magic and mystery.  I sampled arak, the local fermented rice spirit, and watched the steam rise as the stones were taken from the fire and placed in the water, flecking it with silver and then I slowly lowered myself into the deep wooden tub, sighing with pleasure as the intense heat penetrated my muscles, chilled from the night air.  I lay back, watching the twinkling stars in the inky sky through the gaps in the woven bamboo panels, allowing the combination of arak and hot water lull me into a semi-conscious state and images of my Bhutanese experience floated through my mind: the golden Buddha gazed down from above as the thunder dragon roared; yaks wandered past me on a snow-dusted mountain pass while black-necked cranes flew elegantly overhead and the Divine Madman grinned cheekily at me from the corner.  I returned his smile and though "I'll be back..."