Category: Kohncation

The Conclusion of Kohncation

2/4/2015

There is only one word to describe the village of Astam: idyllic.

We departed from the Lumbini Buddha Garden hotel with thick fog limiting visibility, our goodbye from the Terai, I suppose. It was not until we began our ascent through Nepal's middle hills that we rose above it and could see the winding road before us. We had an early lunch in the town of Tansen, where the streets rival the steepness of the steepest in San Francisco. A little way down the road, we were stopped at a police checkpoint. We watched through the car windows as our driver handed over his papers and the police chief stuck them at the bottom of the pile, and was then ignored for a long time. We came up with all sorts of scenarios about how much trouble he must be in and why. After waiting somewhat patiently for almost an hour, we were suddenly on our way again. As it turns out, our vehicle did not have the proper license plates for transporting tourists. The fine was a nominal $10, but the delay arose from the police not having the proper version of a paper ticket to issue and having to ride a motorbike somewhere far away to bring back the correct form! Oh, Nepal...

A couple of hours later, the car began lurching and sputtering, giving Ramas just enough time to pull over to a relatively wide spot after a hairpin turn. A quick assessment revealed that this was a classic out-of-gas situation, but why it had happened in the first place made less sense. Ramas hoofed it back to the town that we had fortunately passed only a few kilometers before--without stopping for gas--and we pieced it together. For whatever reason, he did not have any money with him, having asked us to front the police ticket fee and then asking again for money to buy gas. He was hoping to make it to Pokhara before filling up, but perhaps due to the engine leaking some gas the day before, subsequently fixed with a string, it was lower than expected. He returned with a gas canister and the car started right up. (We later learned that our travel agency had given him sufficient cash funds before departure, but he somehow forgot it at home. Regardless, we were easily reimbursed for the ticket and gas!)

As we eventually approached Pokhara, I began eyeing the sinking sun. We had only one night to stay at the Peace Dragon Lodge up on the ridge line overlooking Phewa Lake with an imposing panorama of peaks beyond it. To arrive in the dark would defeat the entire point, which was why I was so insistent we got a much earlier start than I ever imagined would be necessary. It looked like we were going to be okay until Ramas drove right past the road leading up to the World Peace Pagoda, despite me telling him that our hotel was up there. Wondering if there was another approach to the ridge line, I waited until it was clear that he was taking us in to town before inquiring again. Rather than taking my word for it, he wanted to call the hotel, so I dug up the reservation, but of course the phone number on it did not work. I finally convinced him that his instructions to take us to Lakeside were a mistake and that I was sure the hotel was up on the ridge line. I do understand why he was hesitant; only certain vehicles are licensed to take tourists to sightseeing locations in the Pokhara area and our hotel drop-off point was the parking lot of one of those attractions. We had had enough trouble with that already that day!

It was still daylight as we unloaded the car, but the golden hues indicated that sunset was imminent and we were not at the hotel yet. We still had hundreds of stairs to climb! Kindly, a cafe owner, who had the correct phone number, rang the hotel and they sent down two strapping young men for the luggage. I raced ahead with the remainder and Matt cracked the whip behind Esther and Mike. They would see this sunset if it was the last thing they did! Once at the Peace Dragon Lodge, we forced them up three more staircases without pause. If they had not already been breathless, the view they were hit with from the rooftop terrace would have definitely made them so. The mountains were the clearest we had ever seen them, bathed in subtle yet gorgeous sunset colors that were reflected on the lake. Perhaps because it was literally an all-day uphill battle to arrive at this moment just in the nick of time, it felt that much more valuable.

We rose for sunrise as well, beautiful of course, but not nearly as stunning as the sunset the evening before. Phew! After breakfast, we climbed up to the World Peace Pagoda that can be seen from Pokhara and learned a little bit about the movement to build these monuments across the globe. Then we enjoyed the rarity of a leisurely morning until our sanctioned transport arrived to take us to the Annapurna Eco-Village in the village of Astam, tucked away in the foothills at the base of the grand peaks looming over the region. It was a pleasant surprise to get stuck behind a small street parade promoting organic agriculture as we left Pokhara.

Astam was one of the few places on our Kohncation tour that is not designated as a UNESCO site, but I believe the charming village would be deserving of the title. The team of brothers and their wives running the Annapurna Eco-Village are certainly doing their part to keep village life vibrant and self-sustaining, which we would learn from our hosts is an ever increasing challenge in the face of urban and international migration of primarily young men to take exploitive work in Kathmandu, India, the Middle East, and beyond. With little to no support from the government for basic services, increasing cost of living with limited opportunities to generate income, and technological connectivity creating a dissatisfaction with traditional rural life, the integrity of villages throughout the Himalaya is at risk. With pro-active efforts to strengthen the village's assets, perhaps Astam will become an example of not just adapting to inevitable change, but ending up the better for it.

After enjoying a tasty lunch featuring produce from their own garden, Bishwo Adhikari, one of the founding brothers, toured us around the property to point out eco-friendly features such as a sand water filtration system, solar panels, and the aforementioned organic garden. All the while, a front-row view of Macchupuchre, Nepal's sacred Fishtail Mountain, competed for our attention. It seemed so close that one could reach out and prick a finger on its pointy double summit.

We then continued down the hill to the local school to which Annapurna Eco-Village lends support. This was particularly exciting for Esther and Mike who spent their entire career as dedicated teachers and school administrators. The younger grades had already been dismissed, so we got to peek into the basic classrooms and meet some of the teachers, as well as play with a couple of youngsters hanging around outside.

A basketball court, of all things, was under construction, and a relatively well-equipped computer lab was the after-school hang out where kids surfed the web and practiced typing using a program. Both of these resources, as well as a library of donated books, are the result of collaborating with international groups for aid. "Government schools," as they are called, are typically the only option in rural villages, yet the inept government can not be relied upon to provide adequate or consistent funds to operate. The success of a school and quality of education falls to resourceful teachers and committed community members to pick up the slack. No doubt, this sounds all too familiar to underserved communities in the United States and around the world, but considering Nepal's government is believed to one of the most corrupt in the world, I would hazard that they take educational injustice to an unfortunate extreme.

It is amazing how quickly the time passes when relaxing in a peaceful place. It seems we were just getting in to the rhythm of greeting the day with sunrise on Macchupuchre, sipping the signature herbal "Eco-tea," taking walks through the village, and playing bagh chal--a Nepalese board game involving tiger and goat pieces.

Before we knew it, it was time to head back to Pokhara, where we had a day of being typical tourists doing what tourists do best in Lakeside: eating! Much to Mike's delight in particular, Pokhara abounds in some decent Western food options that we did not hesitate to indulge in. We did take a break for some "exercise" by taking a hilarious pink paddle boat out on the lake, followed by a nap-inducing happy hour along the sunny lakeshore, as well as the inevitable T-shirt shopping that comes with traveling with Mike. Mid-bargaining session, a minor earthquake shook the shops and many people ran out into the street. We waited for aftershocks, but everything returned to normal. However, the last time we had traveled with Esther and Mike, we had also felt an earthquake. If it happens on the next trip, it will be an official tradition!

We completed our counter-clockwise loop through central Nepal the next day when we returned to Kathmandu, only wishing we had longer than our lunch break to spend at Bandipur en route. The side trip to the historically preserved gem of a town resulted in our arrival to Kathmandu in the thick of rush hour, which was eye-opening as to just how congested the city can get and how there are really no rules of driving conduct whatsoever. Luckily for us, we had Ramas to calmly negotiate the chaos. The next three nights were a treat to spend at the eco-conscious completely plastic-free Kantipur Temple House, serving as a safe haven from the craziness of bustling Kathmandu.

It was a full day of sightseeing the next day when we took a local taxi to neighboring Patan to compare its Durbar Square with those of Kathmandu and Bhaktapur. It was "same, same, but different," to borrow a ubiquitous pan-Asian phrase that appropriately describes our reaction. The compact square had more densely clustered temples, which resulted in a more dramatic effect. We were equally fascinated with the multitudes of plastic jugs lined up behind a barely trickling water spout at an adjacent public tap in use for centuries. Young girls and women must have been waiting for hours for their turn to fill, indicating that many homes lack running water despite being in the center of Nepal's urbanity. After some street wandering that led to a lovely modern-meets-traditional lunch at a boutique hotel, we were ready to move on to Swayambhunath, more commonly known as The Monkey Temple.

Esther and Mike dubbed it Mt. Everest, and there were indeed as many steps as monkeys, which to say there were a lot of both. Conveniently, watching the antics of the urban monkeys provided a good excuse to stop every few steps, as long as you have nothing that resembles food or food packaging in which case you had better run up the stairs before the monkeys attack you. Even without this form of motivation, we successfully made it up to the stupa which was also "same, same, but different" from the one we visited in Boudha three weeks prior. However, the views of the expanse of Kathmandu capped in its own layer of smog were captivating and as always the people-watching was half of the experience.

That evening we invited our trekking guide Dawa to join us for dinner at the Thamel House, which features Newari food with a traditional dance show. He brought his adorable six-year-old son Karma Dorje who added to the entertainment of the evening as well. It was particularly fun for both Dawa and Matt's parents to meet in person since they had seen each other via FaceTime when we were trekking and had a good enough internet connection for a video chat.

Kohncation was soon coming to a close and we were all feeling a bit worn out, but we pushed through the next day with some Kathmandu street exploring heading toward Durbar Square. By the time we actually reached it, we were on sensory overload and instead opted to take one last form of transport for the trip. Esther had joked about our multi-modal journey: planes, minivans, hiking, horse riding, elephant riding, jeeps, tiny taxis, canoes, bicycles, and a paddle boat. The list would simply not be complete until we added the bicycle rickshaw. With Mike and Esther in one and Matt and me in another, the guys pedaling seemed to be racing until their dude got off and began pushing the rickshaw on the slightest of inclines. Whether Big Mike was actually too much to handle or this was a ploy to get sympathy for charging extra money, I'm not sure. (We were already paying a generous "tourist rate" and our guy ruined any chances of a tip for either of them by unsuccessfully trying to switch the total price we had agreed upon to the price for each rickshaw when it came time to pay.)

The rickshaws dropped us off at the Garden of Dreams, restored with historical accuracy in mind from its glory days during the reign of the Ranas. While we could still hear the horns of traffic blaring on the other side of the wall, the garden felt like we had suddenly stepped into another elegant world of yesteryear, at least for royalty and the elite. Mike and Matt relaxed on cushions spread out on a terraced lawn, I wandered and Esther took it all in from a classic park bench. That evening we celebrated Esther's birthday at an eclectic sort-of-American-sort-of-European themed restaurant. Totally unprompted, the staff put on a recording of the birthday song in English and clapped along while bringing out a dessert on the house. The accuracy of the tradition surprised all of us.

After running a few last minute errands around Thamel the next morning, Mike and Esther squeezed in to one of the more decrepit tiny taxis we had ever seen and we waved goodbye, hoping that they did indeed make it all of the way to the airport. It had been nearly a month of amazing adventures that had gone by so fast while at the same time each day felt so full. We were impressed with how wholeheartedly Esther and Mike took on the challenges of travel in a country very different from our own, whether it was trying spicy food, using squatter toilets with a bucket flush, or say, riding an elephant. Their willingness to try anything we put them up to resulted in a rewarding and enriching experience for all of us. Simply put, we were proud of them.

On the other hand, we had been so focused on living Kohncation in the moment that we had not made any plans for what would happen when it was over. That same afternoon, we settled in to a cafe to begin to figure out our next move. I opened a very timely email from my sister Danielle and read, "Hey...Erik and I are going to be traveling in Thailand in a couple of weeks. Want to join us?" I looked over at Matt and said, "Well, our decision-making process could be very straightforward if we want it to be. My sister is wondering if we can meet up with her in Thailand." Matt was quiet for a little while, then simply said, "Sure, why not?"

I guess we won't be needing those three-month visas for Nepal after all...

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Taking on the Terai

1/27/2015

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As we deboarded the plane from Bhutan at the Kathmandu airport, Matt and I were still discussing whether we should get the one-month or three-month visa for Nepal. Not knowing our plans once Kohncation would come to an end in a couple of weeks, we figured we would need around two more months to figure out what we wanted to do and then go do it, whether settling in to a volunteer opportunity or cycling to the far east and/or west of the country. Since a one-month visa plus a month extension would cost more than the three-month visa, we reluctantly handed over two crisp Benjamin Franklins and hoped our future decisions would make it worthwhile.

After a typically inefficient visa processing experience, we found Mike and Esther waiting with all of our luggage and piled in to a taxi to nearby Bhaktapur, the City of Devotees. Bhaktapur, Patan, and Kathmandu were three rival kingdoms competing for dominance in the Kathmandu Valley during the reign of the Malla dynasty. Bhaktapur today has the densest collection of temples of the three. It is preserved as a UNESCO World Heritage Site and so is often described as a living museum, having been extensively renovated and restored after a major earthquake in 1934.

Checking in to the adorable Peacock Guesthouse with authentic Newari architecture and woodcarving ornamentation was like staying in our own private museum. Mike and Esther's room came with a carved wooden round window that opened up to watch daily life pass by on Dattatraya Square, as well as door jams low enough for Mike and Matt to bump their heads on.

The remainder of the day and the next were spent wandering between the historically and religiously significant town squares filled with Hindu and Buddhist temples of all different shapes and size. Since Matt and I had also visited Bhaktapur a few months prior when we first rode our bikes into Nepal, I opted to stay back at the hotel and rest from a fatiguing cold I had come down with early on in Bhutan, figuring I had seen it all before.

When they returned a few hours later, Matt showed me photos of processions of locals wearing their best colorful Newari clothes and playing instruments through the cobblestone streets. Apparently this was an auspicious day in the Newari calendar for boys' coming of age ceremonies and celebrations. From the safe distance of a rooftop cafe, they had seen blood squirting above a crowd gathered at a shrine as a water buffalo was sacrificed, then hauled away in pick-up for the family's celebratory feast. Even Potter's Square was filled with rows of pots laid out to dry in the sun; it had been nearly deserted when we had gone there before. And to top it all off, they had successfully located the "Erotic Elephant Temple" where elephants and other animals are depicted in human-style copulation poses. We had searched for it in vain on our previous visit. With the city seeming to be much more alive and vibrant that morning than usual, I regretted my decision to take it easy using an excuse of faulty rationale. It was a biting reminder that there is really no such thing as "seeing it all before." A place is never the same from one day to the next, and it will always hold new discoveries if you approach it with fresh eyes and an open mind.

Having learned my lesson, I rallied for a post-lunch excursion to the Changu Narayan temple, another UNESCO World Heritage Site a few kilometers outside of Bhaktapur. While this was certainly an enjoyable new place to see, there were no parades, sacrifices, or other particularly exciting events to witness, of course!

The next morning we loaded up the Tata Sumo Grande we had rented and met our driver, Ramas, since none of us were equipped with the talent, bravery, or innate understanding of Nepalese driving behavior to dare to do it ourselves. Our driver was immediately put to the test before he even stepped on the gas when a sadhu, or more likely, someone posing as a sadhu, firmly stood in front of the car, holding us hostage until a donation was made. He had been pestering us in a most peculiar way as we were loading up. The gracious owners of the guesthouse had already given him some money and politely requested that he leave us alone, but this only escalated his intensity. Now the owner was not happy about this at all, and basically yanked him out of the way, at which point Ramas peeled out of there in just enough time before the "sadhu" then tried to plaster himself to the side of the car.

With that exciting beginning, the rest of the drive to the UNESCO World Heritage Site of Chitwan National Park seemed uneventful and the roads only mildly curvy after Bhutan. We settled in to Hotel Parkside where we were thrilled to learn that we had their top guide Gopal (rhymes with Nepal) of TripAdvisor fame. It wasn't long after a late lunch and settling in that we were off on our first activity of the three-night package. We took a leisurely walk to a sunset viewpoint on the banks of a peaceful river, well, peaceful except for the fifty other tourists there. Noticing that a nearby riverside bar was strangely devoid of the masses, we wandered over and did our sunset wildlife watching over a cold beer. Within the course of happy hour, we spotted an Asian One-horned Rhino, a wild Asian Elephant, Wild Boar, a gharial and a marsh mugger, both species of crocodiles. Gopal's bird expertise became apparent as he rattled off all sorts of avian White-throated, Black-backed, Long-beaked this and thats within seconds of their fleeting flyby.

While that was certainly a nice introduction to Chitwan, we got the full experience the next day from the back of a sweet mellow elephant. We climbed up a set of stairs to load onto a wooden platform on her back, which was quite cozy with the four of us in it. Her elephant trainer and caretaker, called a mahout, essentially rode on her shoulders and we set off through a forested area adjacent to the park. This may not come as a surprise to you, but for some reason it was for me: riding an elephant is a very rockin' experience, literally. We swayed up and down, back and forth, with each lumbering step. With so many other tourist-ridden elephants going out with us, I figured exciting wildlife would be a no-show. Luckily, rhinos seem to tolerate the presence of people much better when they arrive on an elephant, so we got to watch one up close and personal from the safety of our elephant box.

In the late afternoon, we crossed the river by wading across barefoot with pant legs rolled and actually entered the boundary of the park for the first time. Once across the river, we got a thorough briefing about all the animals that might possibly want to attack us, and what we should or should not do, with most scenarios ending with Gopal beating them off with a stick (except in the case of the angered wild elephant in which case we would all be squashed no matter what we did).

On that encouraging note, he then took us to his secret spot where no other guides take their clients for a nature walk, so the only other people we encountered were local women illegally, but blatantly, gathering wood and plant material to carry out of the park and local men passing by on grazing elephants. The most exciting thing we actually saw was a glimpse of Great Hornbills feeding on a fruiting tree before we scared them off, but according to Gopal we also heard a spooked sloth bear crashing through the forest not far from us, and the low grunt of a tiger. When Gopal heard the persistent yelps of Sambar deer, he took off in their direction through the underbrush and not wanting to be left near any grunting tigers, we had no choice but to follow him. As we got closer, his persistence paid off when we caught a backlit fleeting glimpse of a black mass dropping from the crook of a tree and simply vanishing. He swears we snuck up on a leopard that was causing the agitation of the deer. The reflection of the sunset on the river was beautiful as we crossed back into the "safety" of civilization.

Our third day in Chitwan began with a visit to the government-run elephant breeding center where we got the joy of seeing a little Dumbo playfully roaming around and felt the frustration on a slightly older youngster as he repeatedly pulled against the chain on his leg trying to join the little one in its freedom. The reality is that all of the working elephants, whether for tourists to ride or rangers to use in anti-poaching patrols, are chained on their feet when not working, being bathed, or taken in to the forest to feed. Gopal mentioned that some places are working towards an electric fencing system to replace the chains at least. Perhaps because we are not accustomed to thinking of elephants as domesticated animals, it certainly elicited an emotional response to see them restrained in that way. Yet on a daily basis we would see goats, mules, and water buffalo on equally restrictive short tethers without giving it much thought at all. I wonder if it is our cultural bias at work or simply the charisma of a highly intelligent species that we feel a deeper connection to than livestock.

I contemplated the human-elephant relationship here in Chitwan as we transitioned to a dugout canoe river float. Appropriately, we came upon an elephant drinking from the river's edge. Since the opportunity for tourists to bathe elephants in the river is officially closed during the "cold" winter months, Gopal did the next best thing and asked the elephant's mahout if he could give the elephant a bath as we floated by. With a series of simple commands, the elephant submersed itself while the mahout kept his balance standing on just its spine above the water level. Out came the tip of the trunk like a periscope, or more accurately, a snorkel. The mahout then stepped on one side of the elephant, signaling it to roll like a log while he kept pace on top, then they rotated together to the other side. It was such a graceful demonstration we witnessed that it more than made up for not getting to splash around with one for the sake of our own touristic amusement.

In the afternoon, we went on a "jeep safari" that was a bit disappointing since the vehicle was actually a loud diesel pickup truck with bench seating and a tarp pulled down over a metal roof frame. Not exactly the easiest to see out of, so we were either hunching over to peer out of the little gap between the tarp and the seat, or we had to climb out of the back and stand on the dirt road to see any bird that had caught Gopal's eye, such as a crested serpent eagle perched up in a tree. Nonetheless, we added many more species to our growing list of over one hundred birds, a handful of mammals, and a few reptiles.

For our last evening in Chitwan, we attended a performance highlighting the traditional dances of the Tharu, the first people of Nepal's lowland Terai and the dominant culture until malaria was largely eradicated from the region by using DDT in the 1950s. This opened up the Terai for settlement by highland groups without the Tharu's genetic malarial resistance who quickly gobbled up the essential habitat of so many species as jungle was converted to rice paddies. National parks were established to preserve what remained. Of course, this influx of new people and forcible relocation out of the parks shook the foundations of the Tharu way of life, which they have been struggling to preserve ever since. Based on the enthusiasm and talent of the young dancers as they rhythmically clashed sticks together in mock choreographed fights, it seems that at least this aspect of the culture won't be disappearing any time soon.

During one last pre-breakfast bird-focused walk where we got a smidge closer to seeing a respectable number of Chitwan's 569+ bird species, I labeled myself an "opportunistic birder." If I have someone knowledgeable and excited about birds pointing them out to me, then I get pretty in to it too. Otherwise, I don't really pursue figuring out the nuances of name. The petite electric blue White-throated Kingfisher would still be my favorite whether I knew its common, genus, and species names or not.

We were back on the road after breakfast and headed to...you guessed it, another UNESCO World Heritage Site! This time it was Lumbini, very close to the border with India, and the source of Nepal's decorative truck slogans declaring "Buddha was born in Nepal!" We rented decrepit single-gear bikes to cruise around the extensive site, aptly described as an "Epcot Center of Buddhist Temples." We started with an understated one representing Sri Lanka, but fortunately they got more exciting from there. The dramatic architecture of Thailand's white marble temple was striking despite being under renovation, Myanmar was a mini version of its golden Hershey kiss-shaped temples depicted in so many promotional photos of the country, and China was a trip down memory lane.

We cycled beyond the rows of national temples paying homage to Buddha to a World Peace Pagoda surrounded by a Sarus Crane Preserve. We didn't spy any cranes from there, but as we walked around the bizarre grounds of the Cambodia temple, we were lucky enough to observe one at close range, at least until a Chinese tourist got too close and scared it off. Having seen the many features of Lumbini honoring Buddha, we finished our day with a visit to the remains of the Maya Devi Temple, where the exact spot of his birth is believed to be. While pedaling around the large complex known as the Lumbini Development Zone all day was enjoyable enough, it was not as developed as the name had led us to expect. Many plots of land stand empty, presumably awaiting countries to build their representative temple there. While the temples themselves were well cared for, the overall area felt unmaintained. Perhaps being quite different than we expected also made it more exciting as we were never sure what we would come across next.

Our time in the Terai was short and our exploration was not thorough, but it was insightful and important to see a new region of Nepal, one that is geographically, climatically, and culturally closer to India than the Himalaya. It gave us a firsthand appreciation of all the forms of diversity that make up this compact country.

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Believing in Bhutan

1/21/2015

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The second half of our tour in Bhutan led us as far as Phobjikha Valley, making a few interesting stops along the way. The first was a hike through fields and forest up to the Khamsum Yulley Namgyal Chorten, a gorgeous four-storied temple with a gleaming golden spire that can be seen on its hilltop perch from the other side of the valley. The chorten was commissioned by the Queen for the well-being of the kingdom as well as all sentient beings. UD explained aspects of the intricate chapels on the floors leading up to the rooftop shrine of a revered Buddha statue. The top of the structure also doubled as a wonderful viewpoint of the valley we had traveled through below us. As we were exiting, we got to see a bit of monastery life with several ones performing an inventory of various supplies for rituals in preparation for the transfer of oversight from one lama to another.

We also made a brief visit to a very quiet nunnery before touring the Punakha Dzong, also known as the Fortress of Great Bliss. As the second dzong to be built in Bhutan in 1637, it served as the capital until the mid-1950s when the seat of government was transferred to Thimphu. The dzong sits on a strategic and beautiful location at the confluence of the Mo Chhu and Pho Chhu, the mother and father rivers. While most of the historically and spiritually significant rooms and relics are understandably not open to the tourist public, it was nonetheless enjoyable to view the dramatic dzong from its inner courtyards, passing through a modern day security check in order to do so.

In the late afternoon, we began our drive toward Gangtey in the Phobjikha Valley, arriving in the dark to our own private lodge, not by design but because of the lean season of tourism. As we descended into the valley from the 3,360-meter Lowa La pass, we could see sparse twinkles of lights lining the edge of the valley floor below. Had we visited just five or so years prior, perhaps we would have been met with total darkness since electricity had only been introduced since then, likely motivated by tourism. We settled in to our double space-heater equipped rooms at the Gakiling Guesthouse and enjoyed a cozy dinner next to a woodburning stove in the dining room, much appreciated since we had gained over 1,500 meters since leaving balmy Dagapela.

On our short walk outside back to our rooms, we heard the intriguing calls of the reason we had traveled so far: a population of endangered Black-Necked Cranes. Phobjikha may be cold for us, but for the cranes it is an ideal habitat for overwintering, migrating from their summer nesting sites on the Tibetan Plateau. We woke early the next morning to walk down to the edge of the marshy valley floor and get our first glimpses of them omnivorously foraging for whatever combination of plant roots, insects, fish, snails, or voles they could find. After a breakfast with toast kept warm on the woodburner within an arm's reach, we visited the Black-necked Crane Information Center to learn more about their natural history and conservation status, as well as take a closer look through some spotting scopes. The observation center is run by Bhutan's own Royal Society for the Protection of Nature and supported by the International Crane Foundation as well. Together they host an annual festival celebrating and promoting conservation of the cranes as well.

Since these cranes are more tolerant of human activity than other crane species, it was no surprise that our best view of them happened to be a pair of the four-feet tall birds poking about for forgotten potatoes in a farmer's field at the edge of the road while driving up to the hilltop Gangtey Goemba.

From the monastery, we took a trail down the other side of the valley, skirting clusters of houses and strolling through beautiful pine forest. In the middle of the forest, Mike began to feel fatigued with some back pain and stopped to rest on a rock, bowing his head down. He announced, "I'm done. Call the car!" We all looked around at each other, not sure if he was joking or not. When it became apparent that he was serious, Esther calmly pointed out that there was really no road in the middle of the forest. He picked up his head and looked around, then gradually began to chuckle at himself. Meanwhile UD called Namgay to meet us at the closest intersection of trail and road. Luckily, the pick up point was not so far away and once we walked beyond the edge of the forest we were blessed with the sight of several cranes in flight overhead. Locals say that when the cranes leave the valley in the spring, they all circle the Gangtey Goemba clockwise three times as they depart. Our Western minds are quick to categorize this as myth, legend, or superstition, but isn't it more beautiful to simply believe it?

Once we had Mike safely resting in the van, it was time for us to depart too. In our ongoing quest to see places before they undergo rapid change, the Phobjikha Valley is one that I feel confident will remain roughly the same as long as the cranes still come. The main threat they face is habitat degradation and loss. Their winter high-altitude wetlands are particularly vulnerable to irrigation demands, dam construction, draining, and grazing pressure. The human residents of the valley seem understand this and as long as they keep to their traditional way of life with limited development, then they will continue to be blessed by the presence of the cranes and the tourism income it generates. If Phobjikha can successfully remain a safe haven for these unique birds, then perhaps a viable population stands a chance of surviving into the future as well.

We backtracked to Punakha and after overnighting there, we arrived in Thimphu late morning, in time for a quick cruise through the market selling local produce on the top level of the parking garage-like structure and produce imported from India on the bottom floor. Of course, the market heavily featured chillies, being that they are regarded as a staple vegetable here rather than a spice to be used sparingly. The market was easily the cleanest and most well-organized of any I have visited on my travels.

No visit to Thimphu is complete without visiting its dzong, where we also got a distant glimpse of the adjacent abode of handsome and charismatic King Jigme Khesar Namgyel Wangchuck and beautiful Queen Jetsun Pema. In keeping with the true character of Bhutan, their home looked comfortable but quite understated for royalty, and is certainly less square-footage than most suburban McMansions in the States! Following this with a visit to the ornate golden-topped National Memorial Chorten only reinforced the contrast. Circling the chorten with locals of all ages highlighted a pervasive value of devotion to Buddhism largely superseding the individual's pursuit of material wealth in this culture.

Our last sightseeing stop of the day was an informal one, popping in to an archery tournament in progress at the National Stadium. When we first approached the sidelines of the competition, we saw a gentleman let an arrow fly from his traditional bamboo bow, but searched for the target in vain. UD pointed to the far end of the field where another cluster of gho-clad men huddled around a tiny wooden board. We were incredulous that the arrows could fly 145 meters (476 feet) with any modicum of accuracy, but soon enough an arrow lodged into the board closest to us. After the teammates performed a victory song and dance, they resumed their places standing right next to the target and gauged the incoming arrows in flight, barely moving an inch as a few crash-landed at their feet. Based on the traditions, skill-level, and enthusiasm of the archers we watched, it is no surprise that archery in the national sport of Bhutan and the only event they compete in at the Olympics, except in 2012 when one woman also entered the 10m air-rifle.

For the first time on the tour, we checked in to our hotel before dark and enjoyed a little downtime in the aptly named Peaceful Resort in the hilly outskirts above town. We debated taking a taxi back into the center in pursuit of a passion we had not been able to indulge for a long time: craft beer. Upon learning that Bhutan had its own microbrewery, I had attempted to route our itinerary through Bumthang for a brewery tour and tasting, but it was simply too far east for the time we had available. It was then a pleasant surprise to learn that at least their flagship beer is bottled for national distribution if we were lucky enough to find it in stock at one of its select locations. Prepared for an all-evening scavenger hunt, it was all too easy when our hotel produced a couple of bottles upon inquiring where we might start. The Red Panda unfiltered weiss certainly delivered a more flavorful happy hour than the "refreshing lagers" we had been making do with, especially since we didn't even have to tear ourselves away from the coziness of the lobby's fireplace.

The next day was filled with more sights of Thimphu, beginning with a visit to the Takin Preserve. Since you probably have no idea what a takin is, if you imagine the head of a goat on the body of an adolescent bison, you'd get pretty close. Bhutan's national animal is usually found high up in the mountains, but we saw them in an enclosure along with a few other interesting species of the burly sambar deer (most likely) and the diminutive barking deer (muntjac).

We also toured a handmade paper factory where we got to see the processing of the mulberry plant from raw material to finished products, a few of which we purchased with enhancements of dragons and black-necked cranes painted by a local artist. We walked along the main street of Thimphu with the objective of watching a white-gloved policeman gracefully directing traffic from within a decorated octagonal booth. Although the capital city is by far Bhutan's largest at around 100,000 residents, there are no traffic lights. According to Lonely Planet, one was once installed but people complained that it was too impersonal!

Before leaving Thimphu, we wound our way up the side of the prayer flag-lined valley to the base of the Buddha Dordenma, a gold-gilded bronze statue of an imposing 51.5 meters (169 feet). Still under construction by the Aerosun Corporation based in Nanjing, China, the total cost of the project will be 100 million U.S. Dollars when completed, funded by donations large and small, domestic and international, personal and official. Gazing upon it, I tried to imagine it filled with its eventual 100,000 8-inch Buddha statues in the body and 25,000 12-inch Buddha statues in the three-storey tall throne.

While the tremendous scale of this undertaking may seem out of place, especially overlooking Bhutan's tiny little "big city," these present day events have historical roots. Two separate prophesies have cited that a large statue would be built there, thus bringing blessings of peace and happiness to the whole world. Of course, the local pride and excitement surrounding the Buddha Dordenma is another example of how a deep faith in Buddhism is so integral to all aspects of Bhutan. Thimphu may be understated, but their devotion is not. One only has glance up the hill to see that manifested in one of the world's largest Buddhas.

For non-Buddhists, it may challenging to wrap one's mind around prioritizing the substantial funds and resources for the pan-Asian trend in building big Buddhas. The Buddhist perspective sees it very differently. His Eminence Trizin Tsering Rinpoche, chairman of the Buddha Dordenma project, explained, “By building Buddha statues limitless people can pray and offer for thousands of years, thus by receiving blessings, clearing negativities and building virtues, this life will be happy, next life will be better at a higher level then finally everybody will be enlightened. The well being of future generations is dependent on the kindness and compassion of the present sponsors, Buddha makers and those who participate in this activity. This project brings benefit to self and all beings.”

With Buddha Dordenma now appearing much smaller in our rear view mirror, we headed to the National Museum in Paro. I imagine the exhibits would typically provide a nice introduction to Bhutan, but in our case we enjoyed filling in the gaps of our knowledge base from what we had already observed and experienced first hand. We got to see the details on the masks of the sacred dances up close, and learned the natural history of some flora and fauna we had seen in the different ecosystems we had passed through.

We rounded out the day by visiting one of the oldest monasteries in the country, the Kyichu Lhakhang built in 659. During our travels in Tibet, we had learned about a network of temples built by King Songtsen Gampo to pin down a giant she-demon that lay across the Himalaya. It was a cool connection that makes history come alive to learn that this one restrained the left foot, thus doing its part in subduing the evil force that was squelching the spread of Buddhism in Tibet.

No first-time visit to Bhutan is complete without a trek up to the Takshang Goemba, also called the Tiger's Nest Monastery. If you are not so familiar with Bhutan, but seem to have an image in your head, it is probably one of this iconic temple perched mid-way up a vertical cliff face. Understandably, this is the Machu Picchu of Bhutan and during the high season, it sounds like the steep path to get there is nearly as crowded as the Inca Trail as well. We were happy enough to be missing the tourist-jam as four sturdy ponies gave us a lift up the switchbacks while their caretakers kept pace with us on foot and UD walked even faster ahead. We dismounted at a tea shop and viewpoint where we then hiked up and down and up stone steps etched out of the side of the mountain. Mike and Esther tracked our progress with binoculars from the viewpoint, even catching a glimpse of us after entering the monastery's complex.

Even with all of the build-up, the dramatic location simply can not disappoint. While many aspects of the temple are in keeping with those found in more accessible places, there are some unique elements as well. Influential figures in Buddhist history have meditated in the caves tucked into rock forming the back walls of the modern-day structure. It's name comes from the occasion of Guru Rinpoche flying there on the back of his consort, Yeshe Tsogyal, as she took the form of a tigress. His mission was to subdue a local demon, but then stayed to meditate for three months. With its rich history, intriguing multi-level design wrapped around the curvature of rock ledges, and sweeping views, the magic of holy Takshang is tangible despite its ever-increasing global popularity. Refreshingly, it also seems that visitor impact has effectively been kept to a minimum. Trail side litter was almost non-existent and rules regarding photos, dress, and temple etiquette were politely and consistently enforced.

We reunited with Mike and Esther at the trailhead, whom had been waiting for us after enjoying a leisurely hike through the forest down the switchbacks. For our last evening in the country, we continued the iconic theme of a traditional hot stone bath compliments of Bhutan Swallowtail. At a farmhouse back in the Paro Valley, we appreciated the sweaty work that went in to preparing our baths as we passed by a red-hot pile of granite that must have been "cooking" all day on our way in to the bathhouse. We were all quite curious how this was going to work, but it soon became clear as Namgay carried shovel-loads of the stones and dropped them into a submersed compartment at one end of the feeding trough-shaped wooden tub. After the initial hissing of steam, the stones gradually released heat, so we only had to circulate the water in the tub when it started to cool off. Since heating the rocks releases well therapeutic minerals as well, it is a bit like creating your own homemade hot spring!

After our relaxing treat, we were invited upstairs in the farmhouse to join our gregarious host for a home cooked dinner she had prepared. Sitting on floor mats surrounding a smokey fireplace, we started with butter tea, then she filled our bowls with rice and we served ourselves various dishes, mainly featuring chillies, cheese, and potatoes, in that order of course! Esther and Mike particularly enjoyed discussing education and parenting perspectives in Bhutan with her, although we only got a peek at her young son while he was being bathed by his aunt in a baby-sized hot stone tub as we left the bath house.

The fun of the day was over yet as we got to wrap up our Bhutan experience over nightcaps with the founders of Bhutan Swallowtail back at our hotel. Tashi and Sonam make every effort to meet their clients face-to-face and are genuinely interested in getting to know them as friends. Besides the opportunity to taste K5 whiskey, made for the coronation of the reigning 5th King, the informal meeting was a lovely personal touch and yet another demonstration of a Bhutanese way of life that allows for the ideal to be actualized as an everyday reality.

Speaking of the ideal, in the previous post I shared my internal conflict with seeing Bhutan firsthand. After having had a week to take it all in, it seems to me that Bhutan grapples with the same issues as the rest of the world, societal ills, political drama, globalization and more, but they do so with a bit more grace. The historical isolation of Bhutan has not created an immunity for the vices of human nature. In the pursuit of Gross National Happiness, they have some key factors in their favor that other nations do not, such as a small culturally-similar population, but with those advantages come their own set of challenges as well. Bhutan, with its imperfections, becomes a much more believable place, one that an outsider can relate to and connect with intimately. And even though it can be tough to let go of fantasies, I'll take the real Bhutan over Shangri-La any day.

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Some dreams really do come true!

1/15/2015

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My first awareness of Bhutan's existence was in 2001 during a college course titled "Global Resource Dilemmas," which highlighted its now famous concept of Gross National Happiness as the basis of an alternative development model. I became intrigued with the tiny country billed as the Last Shangri-La and later chose it as my assessment country for a geopolitics class. Bhutan was so little-known that I had trouble digging up enough resources to write a solid paper in those primitive pre-Wikipedia days when Google was still in beta. Based on what I was able to find, I skeptically wondered if the reality of Bhutan could really hold up to what was surely idealized images in coffee table books and manicured descriptions on tour company websites. This of course led to a yearning curiosity to investigate this dream land firsthand. If a place that truly adopts a wholistic sustainable development model can successfully exist in our modern paradigm, albeit on a small scale, then maybe, just maybe, there is hope for the rest of us!

So why did it take me fourteen years to actually see it for myself? There were a couple of factors that significantly complicated a trip to the little Himalayan kingdom on the other side of the world. Since the country first opened up to foreign travelers in the 1970s, Bhutan has implemented a "High Value, Low Impact" approach to tourism. International tourists are welcome, but only on Bhutan's terms of a $200-$250 per person all-inclusive daily tariff and a compulsory guide booked through a certified tour company. While this might sound exclusive, and indeed it is, I ultimately agree with the conscious intention to capture the economic benefits of tourism while mitigating the cultural and environmental impacts of an industry that has a tendency to overrun most of the amazing places around the globe. However, my theoretical support did not align well with my personal circumstances. With a strong aversion to guided tours and an environmental educator's "salary," the years ticked by while Bhutan felt unfairly out of reach.

When Matt's parents, Mike and Esther, suggested we include a trip to Bhutan in our Himalayan adventure together, it was certainly met with great excitement on my part, as well as indescribable gratitude for their substantial investment in my dream. Yet having a real live opportunity to visit Bhutan also forced me to come to terms with a new emotion. For the first time, I feared losing my fantasy of what Bhutan had become in my mind's eye. Having propped it up as the pinnacle of my travel ambitions for so long, what if reality was no match for my expectations? Perhaps those excuses about money and fixed itineraries were actually protecting an irrational idealization that could only lead to disappointment. Surely, if I was truly serious about this passion, I could have found a way by now...developing a specialized skill or area of expertise that would allow me a way in through an INGO, academic study, or the like.

Regardless of any nervousness that still remained about facing the real Bhutan, the day soon arrived when we boarded our Druk Airlines flight, got a stellar view of Mt. Everest and other 8,000 meter peaks en route, and were forewarned by the pilot that getting unusually close to a mountain was simply standard landing procedure for the Paro airport. We were greeted with katas by our guide "U.D." and driver Namgay from Bhutan Swallowtail tour company. Namgay is also a tour and raft guide, so we got a special bonus of two for the price of one!

We drove about an hour from Paro through Thimphu before darkness set in, getting our first glimpses of iconic Bhutanese architecture and people wearing the national dress of ghos and kiras, for men and women respectively. We took a break for tea at a restaurant atop the Dochu La, a 3,140-meter (10,300-foot) pass where on our return trip we would have nice views of the mountains between the 108 hilltop chortens. They were commissioned for "atonement of the loss of life" incurred while expelling separatist militant groups from the neighboring Indian state of Assam in southern Bhutan in the early 2000s. The dark starry sky was the main attraction for us on that chilly evening though.

We then drove a couple more hours along Bhutan's version of a highway, the one and only road traversing Bhutan west-east. Traveling late in the day we were spared the delays (but not the dust) of the current expansion from one lane shared by both directions of traffic to each way having an entire lane to themselves! We settled in to what our budget-traveler selves consider a luxury hotel (also known as three stars!) and had our first Bhutanese meal, toned down on the chillies for the uninitiated of course.

Similarly, the whole next day was occupied with driving, this time on a road the wound its way down to the southern district of Dagana. We were on this unusual order for an itinerary, blowing by the typical introductory stops of Paro and Thimphu, in order to make it to a religious festival called a tshechu in the village of Dagapela. On our way there, U.D. casually mentioned that we would be the first tourists to ever visit this village. Wait a minute...WHAT!?! Did he just say FIRST and TOURISTS in the same sentence? As in, we are practically discovering this place? My surprise quickly morphed into protective skepticism. How can that be? Surely there will be some other tourists wandering around when we show up there. After all, I found out about this festival on a website called Visit Bhutan 2015.

In fact, attending a tshechu is one of the most popular activities for tourists in Bhutan as it is a chance to observe an important and authentic aspect of Bhutanese culture in an uncontrived context. It is a social and festive event with Bhutanese dressed in their finest, yet spiritually significant since witnessing the dance blesses and cleanses the observer of their sins. It also illuminates the path one follows on their journey after death. Each masked dance depicts historical events or illustrates a spiritual element with the themes centered on subduing demons and the triumph of good over evil. All tshechus follow a similar format of the same dances performed in the same order over three or four days and occur throughout the year. The tshechus held at district dzongs (fortresses serving as administrative and monastic centers) attract the largest crowds, whereas local tshechus, like Dagapela, may only have attendees from the surrounding communities.

My skepticism wavered on our approach to Dagapela on a rough dirt track dug of the hillside only within the last year. Prior to the road, the village was not accessible by vehicle. As our guide explained the lodging situation that had been arranged in the absence of tourist infrastructure, I became convinced that we were indeed the only tourists around. Our itinerary indicated we were scheduled to stay at a house typically reserved for business-related guests of a hydropower plant fifteen kilometers away. The complication was that no food would be provided there and fifteen kilometers on the narrow windy road was a 45-minute drive each way from the village. We looked at the only other option of an undesirable "local hotel" and opted for the power plant's guesthouse and a long food commute. However, by the time we had settled in to our lovely rooms, U.D. had worked his magic with various local officials and found the right one to authorize and arrange for meals to be cooked for us in-house. To top it off, he had also procured a jug of locally-brewed ara on a Tuesday, Bhutan's dry day, which we sampled while surviving our dinner made with an authentic quantity of chillies.

Once the logistics of basic needs were taken care of, it dawned on me just how much work had gone in to allowing us to be tourist pioneers. Tashi, our tour coordinator at Bhutan Swallowtail, had engaged her connections through several degrees of separation to get us permission to stay at the only place in the whole region where we would be comfortable. She had researched and planned for this unusual destination, as well as the rest of our tour, with less than two weeks notice, a noteworthy accomplishment even in the less busy month of January. I was already so grateful that I had found this small company committed to providing truly customized experiences and we had not even witnessed a minute of the festival yet!

On our drive to the festival the next morning, U.D. mentioned that we would have the honor of having tea with the head lama of the monastery hosting the festival. Yet we had no idea of the extent of our VIP status until we cleared the gates and parked right next to the monastery and the dancing grounds. We were whisked up to a room in the monastery with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the dances where we were introduced to the lama and many government officials. From our comfy couch seating, we sipped tea, snacked on local citrus and bananas, and conversed with our gracious hosts, all while trying to keep an eye on the fascinating proceedings below.

After we enjoyed a buffet lunch all together, a towering deity was extracted from the lower level of the monastery and paraded around the perimeter of the dance ground, then placed on an altar. Everyone in attendance immediately got up to receive blessings from this deity, creating an orderly single-file line with the assistance of several young beautiful ladies wearing "Community Police" vests. As guests of honor, we were ushered to the front of the line where we touched the top of our heads to his robes, left a donation, received a blessed yellow string to wear and holy water to sip and brush on our heads.

With the line stretching all the way down the hill we had driven up, we took advantage of the pause in the dancing to explore the rows of vendor stalls. We tried our hand, alongside young monks, at a couple of exciting gambling games. We also tried a shot of one of Bhutan's whiskeys, Bhutan Highland, much to the amusement of the outgoing Bhutanese teens serving us in their temporary tented restaurant. As cultural outsiders, we were equally intrigued with the seeming idiosyncrasies we were observing: women dressed in their best kiras shopping for Western clothes, kids running around with realistic toy guns at a festival intended to transmit Buddhist teachings, purchased from stalls filled with cheap plastic doodads that can only bring fleeting materialistic gratification.

Returning to the dancing arena, the program was about to resume as the last few people were receiving blessings. We opted for a different vantage point and stood behind the mass of villagers sitting on the ground adjacent to the monastery. Our hosts soon spotted us (I can't imagine how since I am sure we didn't stick out at all...) and insisted we take front row seats in a shaded tent nearby. With more tea and an even better view than before, we watched the same imposing deity feature prominently as the judge in an acting out of a "sinner's" path through the intermediary world of the deceased.

With so much lovely attention directed our way throughout the day, it was not until then that I could really focus on appreciating the beauty of the dances. All dancers had elaborate, colorful costumes and expressive masks of humans, deities, animals, or a blend of these categories. The precise choreography relied on simple drum beats and chimes of various tempos, but this highlighted the impressive athleticism of the dancers as they held poses balanced on one foot, executed high jumps, and twirled intensely.

However, watching from ground level exposed us to a new distraction, the playful attention of the atsaras. With red masks featuring a beak-like nose, these mischievous clowns are an institution of the Bhutanese tshechu. The combination of anonymity and immunity allowed them the freedom to act out whatever spontaneous behavior might amuse the crowd, whether imitating the serious dancers with silly exaggerated motions, or dangling a phallus on a string while inserting themselves in the lead of a solemn procession, as well as harmlessly harassing the audience in various ways. As for us, they enjoyed wearing our sunglasses while posing for photos and stealing our water bottles.

The atsaras seemed like yet another idiosyncrasy for us newbies trying to process all that we were taking in. As with many first impressions, digging a little deeper reveals a rectifying explanation. The Bhutan Swallowtail website explains, "atsaras are actually learned saints and high lamas who have already attained enlightenment. They are regarded as teachers and during the festival they guide the masked dancers on the ground should anything go wrong or if their costumes and masks need to be adjusted. As in the legends where teachers transform themselves in many forms, being a clown is one of their many manifestations to correct and guide their students in a light manner!" Another reminder that with any performance, as in life, there is more going on than meets the eye, especially an untrained one!

As the sinking sun began to bathe the dancers in a glowing golden light, the deity of judgment made another pass around the field and was retired back inside the monastery, signaling the winding down of the day's program. We expressed our genuine gratitude to our hosts for the memorable day and took some group photos that would be posted on websites to document the first tourists to Dagapela village. While the festival would have been an incredible experience even with a history of tourism, the honor did a lot to restore my faith that "discovery" is still possible for the average traveler in this hyper-connected globalized world.

This was quickly followed by a sharp reminder that you don't get the gems of leaving the tourist track without making some sacrifices. Unfortunately, the price you pay tends to be directly proportional to the genuineness of the experience. In this case, our return trip home was interrupted by a sudden expulsion of all of the contents of my stomach as the manifestation of an increasing discomfort in that region towards the end of the day. I was quick to blame my sampling of doma as the cause of the incident. I had been curious about the common habit that results in the blood red smiles of the Bhutanese, so I chewed a packet of the areca nut wrapped in a betel leaf spread with a pink lime paste. It was an interesting and authentic cultural experience, especially as it was carefully prepared for me by the head lama. The pungent aroma and unique flavor was overwhelming in the moment, but I suspected the basic lime, which activates the chemical reaction, had left a lasting effect on my digestive system.

Unfortunately, my theory that left everyone else in the clear was invalidated shortly thereafter. Upon reaching the power plant guesthouse, Esther replicated the scenario, except with her own style of many frequent upheavals rather than my singular thorough emptying. I know this because I had also gone directly to our room adjacent to theirs, crawled into bed fully clothed, and remained there until morning, except for plenty of follow-up trips to the bathroom for another related issue of course. Few things in life bring you closer to your mother-in-law than sharing only a thin wall, not sound-muffling in any way, between your respective toilets in a never-ending night such as this one.

Meanwhile, Mike and Matt were in the clear for the evening with Matt mysteriously being the only one to remain completely symptom free through the next day. I have traveled with enough people suffering digestive issues over the years, myself included, to believe that it is simply unavoidable human travel nature to have to first hyper-analyze and then decisively conclude the exact source of contamination. It was either the plate that was still wet from rinsing, or the tea that hadn't been boiled properly, or the hand we shook before peeling and eating an orange... Or was it breakfast? In reality, we can rarely deduce the when, where, how, or even the what that made us sick, and even if we did, it usually has no effect on the situation going forward. Yet somehow the speculation provides a great deal of comfort. But I digress...

Despite not feeling quite on top of our game the next day, we returned to the last day of the festival for a couple of hours in the morning in order to make the most of our opportunity and our effort to get there. With no one having an appetite except Matt, we began our return journey before lunch got under way. There was no avoiding our second main challenge of getting off the beaten path, which in the case was the path itself, beaten to smithereens by the extensive construction zones of tremendous hydro-power projects. Not exactly the images that come to mind when thinking of Bhutan, we were driving through a side of it that few tourists have awareness of, much less see firsthand, on their standard tours of scenic iconic sites.

Tourism is second only to hydro power as Bhutan's primary source of revenue. With extensive untapped potential and ever-increasing demand from their sole customer of India, it is widely accepted as the future of Bhutan's economic viability. A tenant of Gross National Happiness is to develop with minimal impact to the environment. Once finished, these hydro power plants may be a legitimate low-carbon energy source, but they can't possibly exist without making present-day ecological sacrifices. The resources required to divert a river through a mountain seemed incalculable when passing by the equipment staging areas, Indian worker camps, discarded materials and debris spanning both sides of the narrow river valley for miles at a time. Amongst all of this, I caught a glimpse of an ironic sign commanding, "Save the White-bellied Heron," an endangered bird that abandons its riparian nesting habitat with just minimal human disturbances. I also wondered what creating dry stretches riverbed by diversion will do to the aquatic ecosystem of the river itself. Even in a country more earnestly trying to balance environmental concerns against "progress" than most, it seems the messy business of hydro power construction will continue full steam ahead in pursuit of the country's other long term development goals.

However, if designating a few of its drainages out of the Himalayas for the singular purpose of hydro provides the stability of consistent income, perhaps it will enable the achievement of its environmental targets elsewhere. Bhutan already has over one-third of its land under protection, the largest percentage of any country in the world by some measurements, which becomes even more impressive when considering its diminutive size. Even so, they are striving to maintain carbon neutrality by maintaining minimum of 60 percent forest cover as development moves forward, although the nation is currently a carbon sink when accounting for the present level of forested land hovering around three-quarters of the country.

Once through the gauntlet of the hydro-construction zone and with our appetites gradually recovering, we returned to the main tourist trail feeling that our unconventional introduction to Bhutan was like any true adventure, worth the risks and discomfort in the moment for the vivid memories to be recounted for years to come.

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The Creation of Kohncation 2015

1/11/2015

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Our week in Pokhara had three main objectives. They were:

1. To experience the Pokhara Street Festival, held annually in the days leading up to New Year's. This was an enjoyable time to be in Lakeside, when the main road is closed to (most) vehicular traffic, the mostly Nepali attendees mosey down the street, and all of the shops and restaurants take over the sidewalk with temporary stalls. The first few days were not very crowded, so we did the majority of our festival-going then. In fact, we didn't even step out on NYE proper due to dietary tract distress (perhaps induced by some of the previously consumed street food...).

2. To meet up with our friend Debbie and her family who live in a village near Pokhara. We knew Debbie from our time in Breckenridge, just before she left for Nepal, started volunteering, and met her Nepali husband Chandra. Six years later, they have two adorable kids, Luna and Sol. We strolled the Street Festival with them one evening and another afternoon got our first moped ride to Chandra's sister's house for dinner and some more hanging out. It was lovely to reconnect with someone from our past and they have been a great resource for us as we navigate travel in Nepal.

3. To plan "Kohncation 2015"! Matt's parents, Esther and Mike, had been ready to visit us for months before we were able to commit to a date. During our last week of trekking, we gave them the go-ahead on short notice for January. Within 24 hours, they had their plane tickets booked for a Kathmandu arrival in two weeks! Luckily, I love any opportunity to do some focused travel research and planning. Combined with another week spent back in Kathmandu, we had an itinerary put together, hotels booked, and transport arranged for their month-long trip with several hours to spare before meeting them at the airport.

We had strategically decided on a more gentle introduction to Nepal than Kathmandu, especially after they had just survived more than 48 hours of travel time, including an overnight layover in Qatar. So we whisked them an hour and a half away from the airport to Nagarkot, a touristic village for both foreigners and Nepalis to enjoy a panorama of mountain views in more breathable air. The taxi ride alone was an eye-opening experience given that we were leaving the city in Friday rush-hour traffic through impoverished areas on the outskirts. This soon gave way to careening around hairpin turns on a one-and-a-half lane road as we climbed up the steep side of the Kathmandu Valley. What we didn't know at the time was just how gentle of an introduction Nepal's roads were as preparation for Bhutan.

We were warmly welcomed in to the Resort Eco Home by the owner Semanta, which indeed felt like home if you are used to living in your own private upscale trekking lodge. We were the only guests there in the middle of low-season, so the staff was hyper-attentive during our leisurely dinner of gourmet dal bhat with seven different vegetable dishes. It turns out that the delicious fresh-prepared food spoiled Mike for the rest of the trip, as he would often reminisce about "Semanta's cooking" at meals thereafter. We enjoyed a celebratory toast to our family reunion by the fireplace and went to bed early with a wake-up door knock scheduled for sunrise the next morning, if it was clear.

Indeed it was, so we bundled up and walked up to the ridge line temple for mostly unobstructed views of the Himalayas. Sadly, a large hotel is under construction that already scars the viewscape. After breakfast, we walked a few kilometers up to an official viewpoint where the only distractions from the unimpeded stretch of mountains was the formidable brown haze rising up from Kathmandu Valley below and the Saturday crowds of urban Nepalis escaping it. After tracing our entire trekking route between iconic peaks such as Langtang, Ganesh Himal, and Manaslu, for Mike and Esther, the people-watching was equally fascinating. The day ended with equally clear skies that revealed a starry sky of a caliber possible in precious few places in this electrified world.

By late morning the next day, we had checked in to the lovely Rokpa hotel in Boudha, which generates income for the important social work of the Rokpa Foundation. Our minivan taxi did some crazy maneuvering through the narrow alleyways, including shooing fruit carts out of their established territory, to deliver us to this peaceful haven hidden away among craziness. We braved the streets long enough to get to Boudha's main attraction, the Bodnath stupa.

Bodnath is the largest stupa in Asia and a captivating structure to behold. We joined the ever-morphing revolution of worshippers circling the stupa clockwise and spinning rows of prayer wheels below the watchful eyes of Buddha on all four sides of the spire. We popped in to a thangka painting school and observed some students in action, at least as much action as one can see in a few minutes of work on a meticulously detailed creation that takes at least one month to complete. In one of several Buddhist monasteries surrounding the stupa, we were given a tour by a resident monk who beautifully explained the Wheel of Life, a commonly displayed in monasteries as well as the commercial thangka shops.

Boudha is the epicenter of Tibetan culture in Nepal, with many Tibetan refugees and immigrants settling there since the Chinese occupation of Tibet. In keeping with its character, we ate dinner at a simple and traditional Tibetan restaurant called Double Dorje. Esther and Mike got their first taste of momos and my personal favorite, thenthuk, similar to a chicken noodle soup with lots of fresh veggies. Mike was feeling culinarily adventurous and followed my lead of ordering tongba, hot millet beer, but the Viking-sized "stein" it was served in was a bit much, so I had to finish the job.

Besides simply catching up with Esther and Mike, it was fun to see Nepal through their fresh eyes as they shared first impressions and reacted with surprise to things that had ceased to stand out to us after three months in the country. It was a wake up call as to just how complacent we had gotten about careful observation and soaking up the details of daily life here. With just three full days to get a taste of Nepal, the next day we returned to the airport to fly to a place where we would all have fresh eyes: Druk Yul, Land of the Thunder Dragon.

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