Weaving the Incantation

***THIS POST HAS BEEN UNEDITED TO PRESERVE AUTHENTICITY***

We left Bumthang today, having recovered sufficiently from our serious walk yesterday. It is about an eight hour drive from Bumthang to Mongar, where we currently are.

We left around 9:30 this morning, and drove all day. It was raining for about the first 3 hours, so we didn't get to get out and look around at the point in between the two valleys, which is at 3700 meters (the highest we've been on the trip so far).

When we began descending, though, the weather cleared up, and even got sunny towards the end. The degree to which the weather and general climate differs by valley here is astounding. One minute, you can be in a rainy section of pine forest, and then ten minutes later, after cresting a ridge, it might be ten degrees warmer, and there will be moss hanging from the trees that appear almost tropical.

We stopped at a restaurant to eat the packed lunch we had taken with us from the hotel in Bumthang at one point, around 1:30. We sat at one of their tables eating our food in their restaurant while they watched what appeared to be Indian soap operas. One of the men stared at me the entire time we were in there, looking down only to scoop up food from his own lunch.

Earlier in the day, we had started listening to the music on driver Tashi's USB, which was a eclectic mix of Bhutanese tunes, Bollywood dance numbers, and western music ranging from Lady Gaga to Green Day. It turned out that driver Tashi's USB had near 160 songs on it. When I asked why we hadn't put it in sooner (seeing as we had heard Dead or Alive probably 15 times now), they told me that they weren't sure if I would like the Bhutanese and Nepali music that was mixed in. I told them that it wasn't like I got to hear Nepali music back home, so for sure I was good with it. It was nice to hear something else after nothing but one Bon Jovi cd and one AC/DC cd on repeat for the last 12 hours of driving we have done.

A few hours later, we stopped for tea wen we saw some benches on the side of the road. As we were preparing our tea, we heard the rhythmic beating of a drum and the clash of cymbals. Tashi said that this was coming from the nearby house, and was some kind of local animism ritual meant to ward off evil spirits. He went inside and asked if we could come watch. The people, being friendly like nearly all Bhutanese, allowed us in, no problem.

When we entered the house, we found it to be full of incense smoke and people. The house was probably no more than 20 feet by 20 feet, but there were 3 women, 5 small kids, one grown monk, and one younger monk as well. There, I witnessed the most authentic and bizarre ritual I have ever seen. Not that I've seen many ward-off-evil-spirit rituals in my life.

There were, on the ground, the likeness of different evil spirits fashioned out of ground up corn, some with candles burning in front of them. All of the people inside were gathered around, and were throwing handfuls of corn kernels at them and saying something in their local dialect of Dzongkha. Tashi explained that it was something to the effect of, "go," and was an attempt to banish the evil spirits from the household. All the while, the monk was reciting passages of scripture relevant to the ceremony.

Tashi and I took seats on an empty mat and observed for a few minutes, until the monk came to a break in the scripture. Everyone came over and crowded around me, saying hello in Dzongkha, and the kids looked on with the fascination that I have come to expect. Out here, though, the people are even less used to having visitors, so I may well have been the first white person some of them had seen. Remember that this was in the middle of nowhere, in between two rural towns that are also in the middle of nowhere.

After hellos, one of the women hurried off, and returned quickly with a small and intricately engraved container. She started saying something to Tashi, to which he laughed and translated. He told me that since I was a guest, they had brought me some local wine that they had made themselves. Tashi couldn't have nay because he was driving, but there was nothing stopping me, he said.

I was quickly handed a bowl, which the woman filled until it was close to overflowing. Everyone looked on expectantly. I smiled at them and took a sip. It wasn't bad, for alcohol made in the middle of nowhere by people who grew corn for a living.

As soon as I finished taking a drink, the woman that was holding the wine container leaned in and refilled by bowl. She proceeded to do this after the next four drinks I took, until I told her I couldn't have any more if she wanted me to walk out of her house on my own. Tashi translated, and everone laughed.

The ritual resumed, everyone began tossing corn at the effigies again, and the monk resumed his chanting, drum-pounding, and cymbal-banging. By the time the ritul was over for the day (they would resume again tomorrow, as it wasn't finished), I had had more than two bowls full of these people's so-called wine. I wouldfind out later that the woman constantly refilling my bowl had said to Tashi that she was impressed that I was still drinking after she refilled my bowl for the last time, and that I must be stronger than Bhutanese people since I was not drunk. So there I was thinking I was doing what was expected of me, when she had expected me to tell her I had had enough long before I did. Whoops.

Anyways, this "wine" was, it turned out, a lot stronger than it tasted. I had a pretty hard time getting out and back to the car, and when I reached the car, dropped into my seat, threw on my sunglasses, punched in the track number for Tiny Dancer, I was feeling pretty damn good.

The rest of the ride here (Mongar) was pretty good. We had put in the usb I loaded up with some things I thought Tashi square would like, based on the input they had given me, and I was quite drunk. Felt good, man.

Lesson learned from today? Beward alcohol offered by strangers, even if they are friendly, especially if you are unsure of the percentage of alcohol content.

Alright, I can't' do this anymore. I'm falling asleep as I type this. You've got pretty much everything of interest that happened today, though. Pease out compadres. Catch you on the flip side.

Who's Gonna Show This Stranger Around?

Today was the first of our two full days in Bumthang (pronounced almost like boom-tong). We started the day by driving to the other side of the village, and from there we started hiking to a monastery that was built in the seventh century. It was an awesome hike, as it was really the first opportunity I've gotten to walk through a village, rather than driving through. I got to walk the same paths as the local people do, rather than just drive by in a car. I like doing things that way. When you leave, you feel like you got to have a more authentic experience. It feels less like you're walking around a big zoo, observing things from the outside, and more like you actually got to be a part of life there, instead. The monastery was awesome too, with its paintings that were hundreds of years old, its doorways build for people three-quarters my height, and setting that could have as easily been in 1500 as 2010.

Afterwards, we continued on our journey, and headed towards another monastery built upon the ground where one of the great figures in Buddhism in Bhutan meditated for three months. On the way to this monastery, we came across something interesting.

Marijuana grows all over the place in parts of Bhutan. It grows on the side of the roads, it grows in the forests, and it's cultivated in big fields right next to the rice and wheat. The local name for it in English is "pig wheat," because the farmers feed it to their pigs. Since the farmers want to make their pigs as fat as possible, they often feed it to them instead of more typical fare. When pigs eat marijuana, they want to eat more and more and more and get lazy, so that when they're not eating, they just go back to sleep, meaning less work for the farmers, and fatter pigs.

When we reached the monastery, Kurjey Lhakhang, we entered to find that the monks were currently gathered and participating in a chanting prayer, as it was a significant day on the calendar used in Bhutan. With the earthy incense, the rhythmic intonation of the monks, and the harsh shadows cast by the sole window, it made for quite an experience. It just seemed so real, and unlike most watered-down versions of things you typically get to see as a tourist. It was awesome.

Continuing our journey, we passed more tens of thousands of dollars worth of marijuana plants, and eventually reached the third monastery of the day, which turned out to be closed, so we decided to come back later in the day, because according to Tashi, there was some stuff that was worth seeing inside. We have a habit of showing up places and having them be closed.

At this point, we'd been out for around 3 hours, and walking for about two hours of that, but we still had another hour of walking to do to get to where we were getting picked up. We headed back along the road, passing through huge swaths of wild bamboo, past groups of grazing cattle, and down cobblestone pathways wending their way between houses and farm fields.

After we made our way back to the hotel for lunch and rested for a bit, we headed out once again to check out a few more local sites. We visited the local dzong first, which is different from many of the others we have seen in that it has never seen a battle. As all the other dzongs, it now serves only as the administrative center for the area and well as as a monastery, but even when it was originally built, it was never used in battle.

Next we crossed the river to return to the monastery we had visited earlier that had been closed. Thankfully, it was open this time. As we entered the main courtyard, we found a group of young monks performing the same kind of chant that we had seen at the previous monastery. I know I've said it a bunch of times, but I love just how authentic everything is here, and how close you can get to it all.

Inside we got to see paintings on the wall that date back to the 14th century that have never been restored. Most of the temples and dzongs have had their painting redone over the years, but this one has not. As a result, the paintings are pretty faded in some spots, but it was very cool to know that what we were looking at was the original, and was over 600 years old.

Finally, we drove to the Swiss Guest House. No typo.

About 30 or 40 years ago, a Swiss man was visiting the valley and fell in love with a woman who lived there. The two got married, and he has lived there ever since. He now owns a bunch of farmland, a hotel, a brewery/vineyard, and a facility that makes swiss cheese. When we went up to check the place out, it happened that Tashi had gone to school with the guy on duty at the hotel, so he showed us around and gave us free samples of Red Panda, the beer that they make there. I think it's cool to be in a country where you can travel halfway across it, and still run into people you know, consistently.

At this point it was about 5:30, so we headed back to the hotel, but there was still a bit of time before dinner, so I decided to walk down and watch a soccer match I had spotted as we were driving back. As I approached the sidelines, a bunch of kids came over, intrigued by my gorillapod. I showed them how it worked, and when they saw I had a camera, they asked to have their pictures taken. I happily obliged.

The kids here love having their pictures taken. When you show it to them after, they think it's hilarious. We stood around and talked until the match ended, at which point it looked like it was going to start raining, so everyone hurried home.

As I was walking back to the road, however, I saw a little girl lean out of the window of the car she was waiting in and start waving frantically at me. As I got closer, she, like all the other kids who notice me, started calling out "hi" and staring at me as if I was the guy from Twilight in an 8th grade classroom back home. I waved back and walked over toward her. As I approached the car, I saw that she was not alone. Her brother and sister were also in the car, and they all crammed into the window so they could get in on talking to this green-eyed white boy.

The girl asked me my name, which she repeated back as if she was testing out the sounds on her tongue for the first time. I guess the sounds in "Cameron" aren't too common in Dzongka. With surprisingly good English for a seven year-old from the countryside in Bhutan, she asked me where I was from. Then she told me I was beautiful, and buried her face in her hands while her siblings burst out laughing. When she had recovered sufficiently, she wanted to know how old I was, and what everyone in my family's name was. She hung off of every word as if I was giving her instructions on how to turn lead into gold.

Once she had asked me every question she could possibly think of, she said "thank you," gave me one final enormous smile, and started waving at me while saying "bye." This continued until I rounded the corner in the road and was out of view.

As I was on my way back to the hotel, I ran into another young kid who was probably around 11. Actually, he ran up to me. At first he was walking behind me, and I heard the sound of running as he tried to catch up to me, although I didn't know that's what he was trying to do at the time. As he did catch up, he crossed to the other side of the road, matched my pace, and started looking over at me tentatively every so often. He started whistling, so when he stopped, I echoed his tune. He started laughing, so I caught his eye and asked him if he spoke English.

It turned out he did. I asked where he lived and how far away his school was from his house. First, he told me that it was one kilometer, but then he changed his mind and told me it was one centimeter. He thought this was the funniest thing that had ever been said by anyone anywhere. We walked together for about twenty minutes, while he told me all about the village, his school, and his friends and family. It was fortunate that I ran into him, because he showed me things and taught me things I wouldn't have even known to ask about if it weren't for him. Eventually, we reached his house, where his sister was just getting back to at the same time. They walked up the hill together chattering away excitedly and glancing back every few seconds, smiling and waving the whole time.

I like this place.

Who-oah, We're Half Way There

Trongsa is about halfway between Paro (where I arrived) and Tashigang (which is as far east as we will be traveling). Because of this more-or-less middle location, it has historically been a very important place. It is the divide between the two halves of the country. From here, one could be close to every part of the country at once, making it an optimal place to rule from, and a key location to control.

Today we started with a walk around Trongsa Dzong. There were monkeys. Yes, monkeys. Monkeys performing feats that would shame Altair, Faith, . Rooftop-to-rooftop jumps, sliding down pipes, moving sideways along windowsills and jumping from one to the other, all of it.

After being stunned by the monkeys we headed out of the dzong to begin our trek of the day. Remember how I said to get to Trongsa you have to travel aaaaaaaaaalllllll the way around a bunch of mountains? Well, we were going to say to hell with that and walk all the way down to the bottom of the valley, and then all the way back up, thereby eliminating the need for the ridiculous detour. Of course, our driver would still have to drive the car to pick us up. So really nothing would be saved.

It was hard. It took three hours. Two of those hours were going uphill. It was sunny. There was little shade.

After our hike, we headed... where else? Back to Trongsa for lunch. I cursed the foolish road and all of its twists and turns for taking so long to get us back to the city. Or at least, I would have, if I had had enough energy to do so. As it was, I kinda just sat in the car, feeling the breeze on my face, and feeling content with just sitting down.

Once we were fed and rested, we checked out the Ta Dzong, which is a watchtower that I guess if we're keeping the whole Minas Tirith thing, would be like the place that the guy jumped off of when he was on fire, right up at the top.

The day before, Tashi had told me he brought a few cds with him, which he had put in the glove box this morning. Since we were heading out for out next destination and had a long bit of driving ahead of us, I busted them out to find Cross Road by Bon Jovi sitting on top. Without hesitation, I put it into the cd player.

And so, with Livin' on a Prayer providing the soundtrack, we left Trongsa and headed for Bumthang valley.

The drive was spectacular, as all drives here are, and we reached Bumthang around 5:30. Our hotel here, while substantially bigger, more aesthetically pleasing, and with a balcony, has continued the trend of decreasing amenities. This one has a wood-burning furnace in the room. Overall though, I would say it's an improvement over the last place. Not that I'm too picky about hotels. I mean, as long as I have a lock on the door, a bathroom of some kind, and no bed bugs, I'm good. But this place has a nice kind of country retreat feel to it. And it's got an amazing view of the surrounding valley.

As I was sitting having dinner a little while ago, the owner came over and started talking to me about the standard stuff: where I was from, if this was my first time to Bhutan, how I liked it, etc. Then he told me I was very handsome, and asked me how old I was, while glancing over at the girls in the corner. When I told him I was twenty, he responded by shaking his head and saying, "oh, too young." He then turned his head to the two girls and said something in Dzongkha, of which the only word I caught was "twenty." He then explained that one of the girls was his daughter, but that I was too young for her, and it was a shame. Welcome to my life.

Ten Miles Behind Me, and Ten Thousand More to Go

The further east you move in Bhutan, the more, um, basic, the accommodations become. We only left Thimphu two days ago, but the hotel last night lacked internet, laundry services, a fridge, and the complimentary water that has been provided so far. Tonight's hotel continues this trend, with the hallways lacking any finish beyond concrete, and a padlock on the door. The room itself is basic but nice enough, with wooden walls that make it feel like being in a cottage back home or something like that. There is, however, a great view of the valley in which the town, Trongsa, is located.

To get here, we got up and going after what is becoming the typical breakfast: toast (with which, I am pleased to report, the hotel offered salted butter), eggs, tea, and cornflakes with hot milk. I know. Hot milk. It seemed pretty weird to me too, and I must admit, I was pretty worried the first time they told me they didn't have cold milk. When I asked for cold milk, the waiter just looked at me like I was crazy for wanting to eat something so ridiculous. My expression mirrored his. Reluctantly, I agreed to take the hot milk, and while it was certainly strange for someone who has lived for 20 years eating cereal with cold milk, it wasn't bad. It's kind of like eating oatmeal. But not.

Around 9:20 we hit the road for Trongsa. This was going to be nearly a full day of driving, and we were only going 200 kilometers. Back home that would have taken 2 hours (if that), but not in Bhutan. Since we were constantly going up mountains and down and around and on driving roads with potholes the size of baby cows, it took all day. I didn't mind though, because it was the best drive we've been on so far. I never get tired of coming over a crest and seeing mountains that go on forever and tiny clusters of houses and farms down below. It was raining in the morning, so there was heavy fog hanging everywhere. You know that scene in Star Wars Episode One where the Gungans ride out of the mist when they're going to do battle? Yeah, it was like that. Except that the things coming out of the fog were cars and huge dump trucks that only came into view about 30 feet from the front of the car.

At one point, we drove down into the part conservation area, part village of Gantey where black-necked cranes come in the winter. Obviously, being May, there were no cranes, but we got to see the village and the monastery there, which is the only Nyingmapa monastery in western Bhutan.





As I understand it, Nyingmapa is the sect of Buddhism that the people in eastern Bhutan follow. This major difference that Tashi pointed out to me between the two sects lies not in doctrine or scripture, but in the conduct of the monks. Under Nyingmapa, the monks are allowed to marry, are not required to wear the red robes that everyone relates to Buddhism, and they do not have to keep their hair buzzed short. I know that the monks in the picture do have short hair, and are wearing the red robes, but if they wished, they opt for a different style. They are given the option, and not forced either way.

As an interesting note, this valley also supposedly grows the best bamboo for arrow-making, so people from other parts of the country often come here to obtain the very best stalks.

Driving back out of the valley and onto the main road again, we continued on our way to Trongsa. About an hour and a half after getting back on this road, we had descended down low enough to be out of the fog, and it was here that I saw my first yak. It was just standing there on the side of the road, hanging out and eating grass. As you can see in the picture below, it wasn't exactly in the greatest position for picture-taking, but I tried. I couldn't let my first ever yak go by without taking a picture. I didn't want to get any closer than I was, because Tashi had told me that they're not as easygoing as cows, and are more wild. Unless they're used to your presence because you feed them or something like that, it's not a particularly good idea to approach a yak. You have been warned.



A few more hours after my run-in with the uncooperative yak, we reached Trongsa. Well, kind of. If you take reach to mean "got within view of," then we had reached it. Because it was on another mountain from the one we were on, we had to drive half an hour around to where the two mountains connected to get physically to the town.

Trongsa is like Minas Tirith: Bhutan Edition. It doesn't have a grid pattern of roads, or even a mess of jumbled roads that interconnect randomly like you find in a lot of places here. Due to the fact that it is built on a steeper mountain than most towns in Bhutan, it's mostly just one road that winds back and forth down the slope with buildings lining it where the slope permits. It's pretty cool.

At the bottom of the road is the local dzong as well as an archery range. Because of the tiered construction, you can see people sitting in their windows in the first two rows of buildings watching the archery matches below.

Once we had gotten settled in at the hotel, I decided to walk around a bit, and just about as soon as I stepped outside, I saw that there was a big crowd around the archery range. There was a match going on. I walked down to watch for a bit before dinner. Archery is a lively affair. There's lots of singing and chanting and cheering all the time. It makes for fun spectating. At first a lot of people turned around and stared at me, as they always do, but their interest soon turned back to the match, and some even shuffled over to make a spot for me.

Archery, like so many things in Bhutan, display the duality of its present society. The word anachronism comes to mind, and if I knew how to properly use it in a sentence, I would. The bows are the same competition-style bows you would find in North America, but everything else about the sport looks just as it likely did 100 years ago, or even 500 years ago. It's very cool.

Across the Rainbow Bridge

Today we had a late start. And by late, I mean breakfast at 8:30. We loaded up the car and departed Thimphu along a winding mountain road riddled with sheer 500-foot drops, hairpin bends, and questionable paving. Oh, and like most of the other roads in Bhutan, there's only room for one and a half cars. And by cars I mean passenger vehicles, not the big flatbed trucks that are the more common sight in between towns.

We were headed to Punakha and Wangduephodrang, in what is, comparatively, the lowlands. As we crested the mountain range that separated Thimphu valley from Punakha valley, we stopped at the 108 stupa meant to bring good luck to those who pass by. Tashi said that later in the year, when the weather was clearer, you could see the Himalayas going on forever. As it was, there was fog obscuring even the bottom of the valley from view. I didn't mind too much, as this also made for some awesome pictures.





From there, we descended into the valley, and made our way to Chimi Lakhang, a fertility temple, where women who cannot bear children come to pray for help conceiving. It is said that if they sleep there overnight, they will be able to bear a child afterward.

Next we headed to Punakha Dzong, which had the biggest and most awesome interior I have seen yet. Sorry, no pictures allowed. There were statues inside that rose three stories up, and there was intricate detail on every single available surface, including the beams holding the roof up, which were adorned with dragons. There was seating for dozens of monks. Tashi told me that this was where the center of the monastic community came to live during the winters, when it grew colder in Thimphu. Because of the lower elevation, it was substantially warmer here. In Thimphu, I had worn my jacket when I wasn't hiking up somewhere, but down here I was wishing I had worn my shorts.

Finally, we hiked up to a massive stupa constructed at the time of the current king's birth.



When the king was born, it was prophesied that the country would face tremendous hardship at some point during his reign unless a large stupa was constructed in this area, so in his name, it was built.

When we first arrived, we found the door to be locked, so Tashi pulled out his cell and called the number listed on a sign outside. It turned out the monk was in the middle of performing a ritual, and we couldn't come in just now. We waited a few minutes for him to finish, and he unbolted the door for us. I'm still always a little taken aback when I see a monk using a cell phone or drinking a Sprite. We made our way up to the top floor and outside onto the roof. The hike was definitely worth it. We had a spectacular view of the entire valley.




I mentioned how cool I thought the farms here were, being carved out in tiers from the hillside. I explained what farms were like back home, and we stood around talking about the differences between our two countries for a while. That's kind of become the way things go. Tashi teaches me something about Bhutan, and I tell him how different it is from home. He grew up here in Bhutan, so he doesn't find the method of farming that exciting, but when I told him that my mom grew up on a farm that was nearly 100 acres large, he was fascinated. He teaches me about Bhutan, and I teach him about Canada.

After a while, the monk came up to find us, wondering what we were doing up there that was taking so long, I'm sure. We had been up on the roof for near twenty minutes just talking and taking pictures. We made our way out and hiked along the river for a while back to our car. We passed a house where, when the four kids who lived there noticed me, started yelling "bye!" over and over and waving. I suppose they haven't gotten to learning "hi" yet. Or maybe bye is easier for them to pronounce. I'm not sure. Either way, I smiled, waved back, and said bye to them, but they didn't stop. They kept calling out to us until we were out of sight. Tashi and I looked at each other and laughed and carried on with our hike.

We eventually crossed a bridge covered with more prayer flags than I had seen on any bridge so far. It was quite a sight with all of the colors mixed in together and flying in the wind.



We drove to the hotel, ate dinner, and then collapsed, content with a day full of breathtaking views, beautiful sites, and the fact that we hadn't been killed in a head-on collision due to the fog.

Guess Who's Back?

Alright, so I know it's been a few days since my last post, but It's hard to get on here when there's no internet. The place we are in today is the first place to have a computer with internet that we've been to since Thimphu 5 days ago. I've been writing these posts on my laptop, so I do have one for every day, and I've gone back and edited the publishing dates so that they match the days they actually took place. Also, we're leaving this hotel tomorrow, so I'm not sure when I'll get back on to post more, but hopefully this satisfies you guys for a bit. So don't worry if there's no new posts for another few days. It is unlikely that I have fallen off a cliff or been kidnapped by organ-thieves or anything like that. The part of the country we are in is pretty rural, so internet is hard to come by.

With that taken care of, back to the story!


We started today with a drive to a nearby monastery that showcased some of the stunning decoration and painting found in all Bhutanese Buddhist temples. Every time we visit one of these places, I am always surprised at how colorful they are. The walls are always painted with different figures from Buddhist mythology, there are hand-woven tapestries and decorations hanging from the ceiling, and the support pillars are covered in hand-sculpted metal.

After this, we drove to the National Art School, where students are trained in painting, woodworking, embroidery, sculpting, and sewing with a hand loom.

In Bhutan, there are only a small number of high schools that teach past grade ten. The government provides education for all children up to grade ten, but afterward, only pays for the further education of those students with the highest grades. If a child's family possesses enough money, they can pay for their child to attend school without attaining the requisite grades, but most families cannot afford this.

Because of this shortage of high schools, the government has also opened schools like this one to enable those students not accepted into upper high school to learn trades. The students at the school were much like those you would see in any school back home. Some were hard at work, some were sleeping at their desks, and some were chatting away and getting little work done.

Since the school is teaching its students to fashion physical objects, rather than just throwing away the finished products, the statues, paintings, wooden masks, and so on are taken by the government and sold to the public. The money brought in this way goes back to fund the operation of the school. This additional revenue is required to run the school, as all the students are not only provided an education, but while they are students, they also live and eat at the school, all of which is paid for.

After this, we drove up to the radio transmission tower that is perched high above the city. From there we could see all of Thimphu as well as the surrounding area. Around the tower there were also an enormous number of prayer flags. Prayer flags are pieces of cloth of different colors stamped with blessings. The different colors represent the four elements. The people place these flags en masse anywhere people constantly pass by, as they are said to bring good luck and safe travels. You find them adorning almost every bridge in Bhutan, as well as on the side of the road and around temples. Tashi said that up here there were probably more prayer flags in one place then anywhere else in the country, and it wasn't hard to believe. There were thousands of them. Along a path leading away from the city, they were hung from every tree and between poles that seem to have been erected just for that purpose. This went on as far as I could see.



We then headed back down toward the city, and stopped at the "zoo," as Tashi called it. It turned out really to be a big pen for Bhutan's national animal, the takin. In the early 90's, a young wounded takin wandered into the area, and some local residents nursed it back to health. By that point, it had grown accustomed to human contact and support, so to release it back into the wilderness would likely have been fatal. Instead, a habitat for it was fenced off, and the "zoo" was established. There are now nine takin that live in the reserve, with two more due to be born soon.




Next we drove to a traditional paper factory, were we saw each step in the process of turning native plants into paper. It is done by much the same process as at home, but all by hand. Most people do not use this paper anymore, as it is substantially more costly and takes longer to manufacture than by modern methods. Typically these days it is reserved for writing scriptures on.

Finally, we drove up to the massive statue of Buddha that is under construction way up on a nearby mountain.



When I asked Tashi about what kind of landscaping they had to do to make a space big enough to build this behemoth of a statue, he told me that the construction site used to be the peak of a mountain. They chopped off the top to make their space. These guys are clearly super serious about their Buddhism. As you can tell from the picture, the statue is still under construction, but when it is finished, it will make an impressive sight, looking out over the city.

To get an idea of how tall this thing is, take a look at the full size picture and notice how small the trees that are nearby are. Don't be fooled by those ones in the foreground; those are far closer to me than the statue.

In the afternoon I wandered around the city and received more stares than I have ever gotten in my life. It was ok though, because most of the people were either smiling at me, or at least looking on in curiosity. It is becoming a common sight for me to be walking or driving by a group of people, have one notice me, and have them start tapping their friends and getting them all to look at me. When this happens, I usually smile and wave, and they always do the same.

Dirt From a Holy Place

Yesterday morning, I awoke to the sound of dogs barking. There are a lot of dogs in Bhutan. They don't really belong to anyone, but they're not exactly strays either. People feed them, and they just kind of hang around and sleep on rocks, or in the middle of the road, or wherever they feel so inclined.

It was 6:15 in the morning. I didn't have to be up until 7:30, but it didn't seem like I was getting to sleep anytime soon, so I got up, made myself presentable (read: put on clothes), shot this Video , and went to have Breakfast early. It was just as good as the Meal the night before, Save one Thing; one place where Bhutan seems to have dropped the ball completely.

Unsalted butter. This is something I have never, and probably will never understand. Butter without taste makes absolutely no sense. It's not like it's good for you. If you're going to eat something that's not good for you, it might as well taste good. The only difference between toast with no butter and toast with unsalted butter is the slight softening of the bread. Why don't you just pour some water on your toast instead if that's what you're after? That'll get the job done just the same, and you'll spare your heart a bit of extra strain.

After breakfast, I met up with Tashi square and grabbed my bags from my room. When I returned from fetching my bags, they were, of course, taken from me and carried to the car by a girl half my size. She looked like she was having quite a bit of trouble, but my repeated attempts to get her to let me carry them did no good.

As we stood around while the car was fetched and the bags were loaded, Tashi (whenever I say Tashi, I am referring to my guide. Our driver speaks very little English and doesn't do much other than drive) was chatting to one of the girls who works at the hotel. After a brief exchange, he turned to me with a grin and said, "she says you are very handsome." I just stood there for a second, unsure of what to say to that, but I quickly recovered. "Really? Well tell her thank you, and tell her that she is very beautiful."

I smiled at her, put on my sunglasses with a flourish that would shame David Caruso, turned around, and got into the car without looking back. Oh yeah.

I'm not sure if Tashi relayed my message, but I assume so, because the girl came over to the car and started asking me questions in her heavily-accented English. See, I had assumed we would be driving off as soon as I got in the car, but apparently not. My suave and dramatic exit was ruined. So there I was, sitting in the car while she stood outside the window talking to me. She really was quite pretty. I would know. I'm an expert. "How long have you been in Bhutan?" "Do you like it here?" "Are you coming back to Paro?"

I told her that, unfortunately, we wouldn't be coming back to Paro. Sorry babe. Maybe in another life, things could have worked out between us. But as it is, I've got mountains to climb.

We drove out of town, leaving my love flower behind, and headed up a winding road through the forest until it ended. We parked the car, and Tashi and I headed in the direction the sign told us to go. At this point, there wasn't really a path. It was just forest. At one point, we walked through a clearing. Tashi stopped and pointed up. Waaaaaaaaaay up. Like, almost-to-the-top-of-the-mountain up. "See up there? The white? That is where we are going. It is eight hundred meters above where we are now. "He smiled at me, and I just gave a resigned sigh. He laughed, and we continued on our way.

Eventually, we reached a stream with three prayer wheels built on top of it that were kept in motion by the force of the stream. I don't think I've taken any pictures of prayer wheels yet, but I will tomorrow and I ' ll post a picture so you know what I'm talking about. They're these big cylinders with Buddhist scripture written on the inside. Spinning them is supposed to bring blessings to the one who does the spinning, and it was also historically a way for those who were illiterate to engage with scripture, or something along those lines.

Beyond the prayer wheels is where the real defined path started. It is also where the serious incline started. After about 5 minutes though, the path disappeared again, and became little more than a collection of trails worn into the ground by years of repeated travel . We walked and walked and walked, making sure to keep an even pace the whole time. Tashi told me that this was the best way to avoid altitude sickness, rather than going too fast and having to stop, and then starting again. The slow but constant progression allows you to adjust to the difference in altitude more easily. I asked whether he had a lot of people get altitude sickness when they came up here. "Oh yes. But don't worry. By now, you would have gotten it if you were going to. "

After walking for just about half an hour, Tashi announced that there was a good spot to take a picture of the monastery. Excited at any excuse to take a break, I caught up to him and looked up through the trees.

Yeah. It was still that far away. You might need to blow up the picture to see it, because it's not that first building just left of the center of the picture. Oh no. It's that tiny cluster of white dots in the middle of the mountain. And beyond that first white building in the middle of the picture is a straight drop, so you have to walk all the way around the freaking cliff to get to where you are trying to go.

We kept walking, and the path didn't get any easier. At one point, I turned to Tashi and said, "I thought you told me Buddha emphasized taking the middle path. Not easy, not hard, right? This is sure as hell no middle path."

We walked up hills and down hills and crossed muddy patches and scrambled up loose dirt inclines that would probably not be very forgiving if you were to fall. Eventually, though, we crested the final hill, and were rewarded.

We made our way toward the temple, where I was asked to leave my bag outside. Unfortunately, this means no pictures from inside. There were prayer rooms with statues, beautiful paintings on the walls, plates full of food offerings, and colorful cloth and silk decorations all over the place. There were young monks holding burning sticks of incense, and (don't ask me how they got there) more dogs. There were buildings built right into sheer cliff faces, and an old monk reading a Tibetan-English dictionary. There were staircases two stories high and roof beams so thick I have no idea how they got there. There was also, of course, the spectacular view. It's easy to understand how the monks there are able to concentrate so fully. It was the most calming, inspiring, and peaceful place I've ever been.

Sitting on a wall that was there to keep people away from the 800-foot drop not a foot past it, Tashi explained some of the principles of Buddhism and the purpose of meditation. He told me about the trial that all graduate monks must go through before becoming full-fledged members of the monastic community - they must meditate for 3 years, 3 months, 3 weeks, and 3 days straight, stopping only to eat and sleep. This is done in the wild, with no one around. Because the meditation must be constant while awake, not even the person who brings the monk's food can be interacted with. Only after completing this task is the monk granted full status, and given the special robes that display his rank and accomplishment.

Having seen every part of the monastery open to the public and being thoroughly blown away that I was actually there, we began the long trek back down. Still glowing with having visited by far the coolest place I've ever been, it didn't feel so long this time.

When we reached the bottom, we loaded back into the car and drove the hour and a half to Thimphu, the capital of Bhutan. As soon as I got to my room, I threw off my shoes and collapsed on the bed. When I regained enough strength to move again, I noticed this:

That's dirt from the Tiger's Nest right there. We had trekked through so much dirt that morning that it had found its way through my shoes and inside of them. I'm not sure if I want to wash those socks, or keep them as a souvenir.

Finally Free

After setting a time for lunch with the hotel staff, I made my way to my room, where I, being an expert in the operation of lights now, deftly placed my key into its receptacle, and the lights switched on.

Rather pleased with myself, I set about inspecting the room, which, although not as fancy as the one in Bangkok, was still quite nice; far nicer than I expected, certainly. I had visions of places with peeling paint and stained bathtubs, all put into my head by the words of the doctor at the travel clinic I visited back home: "So you're staying in hotels, not hostels, right? Well that's good, but, I mean, they won't be.... you know... Well anyways, you're going to need malaria pills, and you are definitely going to need to get a Vivaxim injection for typhoid and Hep A..."

But no, the place was nice. T.V. with 15 or so channels, a bed with cozy blankets, and a stocked-up minibar. There was even a balcony with a view of all of Paro valley.

After I had showered and changed I headed over to the hotel restaurant, where the waiter asked me if my guide was going to be eating with me. I said that I assumed he was, so I told the waiter I would wait for him to show up. I was already 10 minutes late, so I was a bit concerned by the fact that he hadn't shown up yet.

About 10 minutes later, the waiter returned and asked me if I wanted to just start eating, and I said that I supposed so. I was getting pretty hungry, having only had my 6:00 breakfast at the airport so far today. He hurried off to the kitchen, and returned a few minutes later with one of those round serving trays filled completely with food. Everything on it was for me.

There was garden salad, rice, fried potatoes with some kind of seasoning on them, some kind of beef dish with noodles, butter fried asparagus, and some other vegetable medley, and tea that was refilled every time my cup got low. As the waiter placed the last dish on the table, he told me that my guide was in the kitchen, eating in there. I told him to relay to Tashi that he was welcome to come and eat with me, but he never did. So I sat there alone, just staring out the window at Paro valley down below, loving every single dish they had brought me, and being stunned by the beauty of everything around me.

I ate as much as I could, but it was hopeless. They had brought me enough food to feed at least three people. And once I had eaten as much as I dared (knowing that I would be doing some walking shortly), the waiter brought me fresh banana for desert. Apparently the climate in some parts of the country are suitable for growing things we typically associate with southern climates, like mangos, oranges, and of course, bananas.

After lunch, I found Tashi downstairs, and we headed to the car, joined up with our driver, and headed off to Drugyal Dzong (dzong means fortress), a 350 year old stronghold Tashi told me was built to commemorate Bhutan's victory over the Tibetans. Much of it burned down in the middle of the 20th century, but the stone foundation is all still there.

After that, we went over the the museum. It is inside an old watchtower, which was definitely not built for people my size. Most of the time I was at least slightly bent over, and when we were on the top floor with the sloping roof, or in the basement, I was almost bent double at some points. From there we walked to the dzong that the watchtower was built help protect. The dzong is now used for administrative purposes for the Paro area, as well as as a monastery. No cameras allowed inside the monastery part, unfortunately.

As we were walking around the dzong, Tashi and I got to talking about sports in Bhutan, and he told me that by far the most popular one is archery, which almost everyone participates in. The rules vary depending on what the participants agree upon, but the one constant is that the targets are 120 meters away - longer than a regulation size soccer field. We went to the local range to watch some people play, and I was astounded by how small the targets were. They are probably about the same size as a dinner plate. The fact that anyone manages to hit the thing astounds me, but sure enough, in the 15 minutes we watched, there were 8 shots that were planted on the targetboard.

After this, we headed back to the hotel and had dinner, and took it easy for the rest of the night. We were going up to the Tiger's Nest the next day, and needed to be well-rested for that.

And here... we... go!

Upon exiting the plane, this banner was the first thing I saw. Upon closer inspection, I saw that it was there to welcome the SAARC delegates, not simply everyone who came through the airport, but hey, that's written in small letters. And yes, that building is the entire airport. I was liking this place already.

I made my way past the Iranian and Indian private jets parked beside us and into the customs office, where I was quickly let through. The architecture was just like that of the buildings I had seen flying in. It was all white paint, huge pillars and colorful detailing everywhere. I made my way outside, where I spotted my guide instantly among the crowd, as he was the only one holding a sign with my name on it. He is a young guy (later I found out he is 25) with a mustache and goatee and hair about the same length as mine, but far more straight. I smiled and said hello, and with surprisingly good English, he greeted me in return and forced me to let him take my bags.

We made our way over to the far parking lot, because, he told me, due to the SAARC conference, they had closed off the main parking lot for delegates. My guide phoned up our driver (oh yes, we have a driver) and told him where we were. While we waited, I simply walked around in circles, taking in the sheer size of all of the mountain surrounding us. Every direction you looked in, there were mountains. And towards the bottom, wherever it was level enough, there was a house or two surrounded by farmland.

Our driver found us quickly, and we loaded up and headed out toward the hotel. On the way, my guide introduced himself and the driver. They are both named Tashi. "Easy for you to remember," my guide said, "only one name. Tashi square."

We headed out along the one-and-a-half lane road for the town. Every time a car was coming from the other direction, we both had to slow down, and move to the side, so that both of us were driving with our left wheels off the road and on the gravel shoulder. If a cow happened to be crossing the road you were on, too bad. Wait your turn. After turning off the main road, none of the streets were paved. Just dirt and gravel, and traveling about the same speed as the people walking outside the car. The roads seem to just kind of have ended up where there was room around the houses and fields and piles of lumber, so they twist and turn a lot, making for pretty slow going. I didn't mind though, as it gave me a great opportunity to get my first glance of what life was like in Bhutan.

What I've found so far is that it's a fascinating mash-up of two different time periods. On one hand, there's the things that wouldn't be out of place if this were the 17th century: chickens running around the streets, people wearing the traditional gho and kira (dresses the men and women, respectively, wear), and farming done without the aid of machinery.

On the other hand, you're just as likely to see a young buddhist monk wearing a headset attached to his cell phone, a man riding a new Kawasaki Ninja (with his 3 year-old sitting in front of him on the gas tank sans-helmet, of course) or a Toyota SUV that looks like someone just stole it from a showroom.

It's a place where a traffic jam is only caused by a pack of horses carrying saddlebags refusing to move off the road, and the men wear Metallica T-shirts under their gho.

After winding our way through the haphazard streets for quite some time, we reached the hotel, the Tenzinling Resort, which was very nice. Once again, I was forced to give up my bags as I was herded inside and my guide and I were served glasses of mango juice while we talked about when dinner would be and what we would be doing for the rest of the day. Even though I had already been up for nearly 8 hours, it was still barely noon in Bhutan.

A Note on Pictures

I'm going to throw in as many pictures as I can in my posts going forward, but I'm obviously not going to be able to put in every single one. I am, however, going to upload all of the good ones to my Picasa account, which you can either check out here, or by clicking on one of the pictures in the "More Pictures" thing on the right side of this page.

I've reduced the file sizes (and thus, the quality) of all of the pictures I'm putting there so I can fit as many as possible, but I think they still look pretty good.

Also, for those who are interested, I'm putting the pictures from Operation Ewok there as well.

Pictures Ahoy!

Whenever I have something I need to wake up for, and am looking forward to waking up for, my body just kind of automatically makes sure I am awake when I need to be. I know this, but I'm always afraid that it won't work this time, so I end up setting an alarm just in case. In this case, I set two, seeing as how ridiculously early I needed to be getting up.

I woke up at 4:22, quickly got ready, grabbed my bags and headed out the door. When I got to the airport, I jumped in line and waited my turn. When I eventually got to talk to the lady at the check-in desk, at which point, she told me that I was missing my Entrance Visa form, and without it, I couldn't enter the country. I had no recollection of any receiving any Travel Visa. I had no cell phone, no internet connection, and was pretty sure I wasn't going to make my flight. I went back to the counter and asked here how I could get online, and luckily there was an internet cafe right by the desk.

I ran over, paid the 100 Baht for 20 minutes of use, and logged onto my email. There, in my inbox, sent only the day before, was the form I required. I suppose that's what I get for organizing this trip so late. I almost don't get into the country, and not have a flight home for 16 days.

Form in hand, I ran back over to the check-in counter and handed in my form. Excellent. I passed through Passport Control again, passed through security, grabbed something to eat, and headed to the gate. As soon as I got there, they were taking boarding passes. I glanced out the window, and couldn't see a plane nearby, or even a loading gate. No one else seemed to think this was strange, and the board clearly said this was my gate.

I too handed in my boarding pass and started following everyone else. We ended up going down an escalator and through some doors that led outside to a bunch of waiting buses. From there, we were driven in what seemed to me to be almost a complete circle of the airport. As we rounded the last corner, our plane came into view. It was sitting in the middle of the tarmac, right beside a runway.

We boarded via those stairs attached to the back of a truck, and I found out that I was sitting right beside an emergency exit. This was good because the seat in front of me had been taken out, meaning that I had nearly infinite legroom. It also meant that I wasn't allowed to keep my bag, and had to stow it, and by the time I was informed of this, the only spot left was practically on the other end of the plane. I've always found stowing your bag in the overhead compartments to be inconvenient, because you have to get up and squeeze past the other people in your row whenever you want to get something (I always pick the window seat). It also had my laptop in it, which contained my seasons of House. But it didn't appear that I had a choice. I put my bag above and returned to my seat.

A few minutes later they closed the doors, and I was pleased to see that the seat beside me was still empty. This would come in handy. It meant I could fetch my bag and then store it under Mr. Nonexistent's seat. Excellent.

As we taxied to the runway, which of course, couldn't be the one that we were parked right beside, the cabin crew announced that we would be stopping on Bagdogra on our way to Paro. By the time we reached Bagdogra, I had masterfully annexed the seat beside me, and had full access to my bag. As we landed, the cabin crew guy told us that taking pictures at Bagdogra was strictly not allowed. As I looked around, I saw nothing but fighter jets. I'm not even sure what country Bagdogra is in (Google Maps does not agree with the slow internet here), but whoever owns it is serious about no one knowing about their planes, I guess.

After refueling, we took off again, and we were told that it was a 25-minute flight to Paro. I know. Why bother landing when your destination is 25 minutes away. I will never know. Maybe the pilot really likes fighter jets.

About 10 minutes after takeoff, we began to see mountains. We could actually see Everest from the plane. As we crossed more and more of the mountains, we began to fly lower and lower, and all you could see anywhere was mountains so high that they passed above the clouds. Pictures very related. (for those less tech-savvy amongst us, you can click on the pictures to make them bigger)

We continued our descent, and flew past mountains that looked so close the wings almost touched them. We started to pass buildings that seemed so close that you could almost touch them.

After this coolest flight ever, we finally touched down, and people started cheering.

Almost 3 days after I had left home, I was finally in Bhutan.

ps. You guys totally owe me for throwing all those pictures in. Even after I reduced the size of the files, it still took me about half an hour to upload them. I am quickly gaining a great sense of appreciation for our half-second page load times back home.

Take it Easy

As a result of falling asleep at 9:30 p.m. local time, I woke up at 7:30 a.m. the next morning. I made my way downstairs past a few members of the cleaning staff, all of whom stopped what they were doing to do the same bow-pray thing the elevator man had done the night before.

I wandered over to the breakfast buffet and loaded up. After finishing my first plate, the waiter brought me my bill to sign for. Remember how I said that bottle of water was the only thing I won on because of the exchange rate? Breakfast was 700 Baht, or around $20. Not extortionate, but certainly more than I was expecting to pay. Now that I felt determined to get my money's worth, I went back up and grabbed another plate loaded with bacon, toast, made-to-order waffles, and juice. I also grabbed a few things from the bakery section to take back to my room so I could hopefully avoid having to order lunch (700 Baht was half of all the Thai money I had left).

The rest of the day I hung out, watched a bit more House, got this here blog organized, wandered around the hotel, played with the bedside light controls, and kept one eye trained on the window to spot any incoming rioters. Not terribly exciting, but nice after being cooped up in planes for so long.

At 10 p.m., I set the room alarm for 4:30, set my own alarm for 4:35, and fell straight asleep.

One More Time

So I've been in Bhutan for about a day now, but the place I stayed last night didn't have interwebs. As a result, I've got a few things to post from the last two days that I had written, but didn't have any way to put up here. And yes, there will be pictures.

The flight from Hong Kong to Bangkok proceeded much in the same way as the previous one, with more good movies and bad food. I found it interesting that all the announcements over the intercom on the plane were given in English first. I expected this on my Air Canada flight, but it was a little surprising now that I was on a Cathay Pacific plane.

Just like the previous flight, where it got interesting was the landing. As we dropped below the clouds, I could see farms, roads, power lines, and scattered industry. Once again, very similar to what you would find back home. The one thing I noticed that was different was that all of the lots were thin and long. This was true of the farms, the industrial sites, as well as the housing developments that started appearing as we got closer to the city. I'm not sure why they choose to build things this way, but it was like that everywhere I looked.

I also noticed that there were a ton of rice paddies. At least, I assume they were rice paddies. I'm not sure what else they grow here that requires the fields to be flooded. As I looked out at the seemingly never-ending fields, I wondered to myself exactly how they managed to keep the fields flooded like that, as it's pretty hot most of the time in Thailand.

Suvarnabhumi Airport was interesting. There was, like in Hong Kong, everything you would expect, with a local twist, but there were also huge murals with slogans like "Long Live Their Royal Majesties." I found out later that the royal family of Thailand are held in pretty high regard, and it is actually illegal to speak badly about them, so I guess just to be double safe, people show exactly how much love they have for them.

Before leaving I had to go through the Thai version of Customs, Passport Control. Once I had answered a bunch of questions there and had my picture taken, I tried to figure out exactly how I was supposed to get to the hotel.

I walked around looking for a sign of some kind for a while, and picked up a bottle of water at one of the stores for 10 Baht, which works out to something like 30 cents. Not bad. Unfortunately, it would be the last time I won because of the exchange rate while I was in Thailand.

Eventually I located the kiosk for the shuttle service to the Novotel, and went outside to the marked area to wait for the shuttle to show up. As I stepped outside, I realized why the water in those rice paddies doesn't evaporate. The air in Thailand couldn't hold any more water if it tried. It was the most humid place I have ever been. The kind of humid where after walking for 2 minutes at a leisurely pace, you need to change your shirt because it is drenched in sweat.

The shuttle showed up within a few minutes and took us to the hotel. As we approached, I realized that their website's claim that they had the biggest lobby in the entire world had to be true. All glass on the front, and rising 5 stories up, you could easily fit my entire high school inside of it twice over. There was nothing overtop of the lobby but the roof. On either side, there were rooms, which were connected by bridges at the front and back on every floor. Not exactly an efficient use of space. But hey, the airport is in the middle of nowhere.

I checked in and made my way to the elevator, where I was greeted by a man who bowed slightly while making a praying gesture toward me and asked what floor I was going to. I told him my room number, and he called an elevator for me and wheeled my bag in. Not bad. Maybe I was getting my money's worth here.

I got to my room and after figuring out that I had to put my keycard in this slot to get the lights to work, was equally impressed with it. Big floor-to-ceiling windows, a swanky bathroom, and a comfortable-looking bed greeted me. I promptly threw my bags on the bed, took a shower, ordered room service, and fell asleep.

23 hours after I had woken up in my bed back home, I had arrived. Well, I had at least arrived somewhere where I could rest without waking up with crippling neck pain.

What Place is This

After we taxied in and the plane came to a stop, we were unloaded with a speed that puts to shame any other airport I've ever been through. Seriously. Within 5 minutes of the plane coming to a stop, I was out. And I was in the second-to-last row. This was a big 450-seat Boeing 777, too. Usually you end up standing around for 10 minutes while who knows what goes on, and then people start filing out. Not in Hong Kong. These guys know how it's done.

Anyways, as soon as I got off the plane and headed up the walkway, the first thing I saw was a big ad for The Royal Bank of Scotland. Here I was, hoping for a poster advertising skin whitener or parasols or wine with dead snakes in it, but no. An ad for a bank headquartered thousands of kilometers away. And then I exited the boarding hallway and entered the airport proper.

I was greeted by the most ridiculous advertisement I have ever seen. A smile crept across my face. There were cartoon figures, and big neon bubble letters and mixed English and Chinese across the whole thing, with a web address at the top. The ridiculousness of this ad was made even greater when I looked up the website a few minutes ago, and found out it is actually serious business.

The website is nofakes.hk, part of the Hong Kong government's attempt to curb the sale of knock-offs on unsuspecting buyers. It seems like a good cause, but could you imagine the government of Ontario had used guys that look like this

to get us to take advantage of the home renovation tax credit?

After hopping on the moving sidewalk that courteously warned me when I was approaching its end and walking down past all the other arrival gates to the heart of the airport, I found out from the girl at the information desk that for connecting flights you had to go stand in the security line. Exactly why this was required, I am not sure. To be in that section of the airport, you have to have come in on a plane from another airport, where I would bet you already went through the same process. In fact, I would wager that there is no airport anywhere where you DON'T have to go through security prior to boarding a plane. But hey. Maybe I had an airport employee plant a weapon in the bathroom in the arrival terminal. That's possible, I suppose.

Whatever the reason, I had to wait in line for a while, but once again, Hong Kong managed to show up every airport I've ever been through. Despite the line containing many zigzags and overflowing the roped off section by at least one hundred people, I got through quickly. It probably took less time than security at Pearson, when there were about 15 or 20 people in front of me. And the checks weren't any less thorough. They just had a better system, and enough people so that the guy watching the x-rays didn't have to get up and check bags that she saw something suspicious in. He told someone else to check it, and kept doing his job so he didn't hold up the entire line.

Once I passed through security I found Hong Kong Airport to resemble the typical airport-that-is-trying-to-pass-itself-off-as-a-high-end-shopping-mall with Lacoste, Burberry, and other such boutiques. There were stores selling Johnnie Walker and Godiva chocolates. Forget a pillow? Need a new camera? You could get it somewhere here. All the standard stuff. At first glance, it could have been anywhere in the world. Upon closer inspection, though, I found it to be enjoyably strange. There was chocolate-covered corn, dozens of flavors of tea instead of juice and pop, and a store that sold nothing but purses for men. They also had smoking rooms, which I've never seen in an airport before, as far as I can remember.

Eventually, I sauntered up to one of the restaurants, hoping my slow movement would give me enough time to take a peek at the menu and promptly about face if I spied price tags higher than I could afford. Luckily the prices seemed fairly reasonable from what I remembered about the value of the Hong Kong Dollar, because as soon as I was close enough to make out what was on the menu, the hostess was moving towards me, calling at me to come in and sit down. I obliged, and she brought me a menu.

No less than 10 seconds after I sat down, a waitress was there, asking me what I wanted. When I stalled for time by saying "just a second," and furiously started flipping through the 15-page menu, she stood there for about 3, and then without a word walked over to the table beside me to deal with the people there. Apparently people in Hong Kong absorb the contents of menus instantaneously through touch. As a result of my lack of understanding of this system of speed-ordering, I had to wait five minutes for another waitress to approach me. She took my order, and within 10 seconds, had returned with the bill. I began to sense a trend here. Everything these people do is done with the utmost expedition. Then again, maybe they were just worried that I would run off without paying.

Sure enough, the food arrived quickly as well. It was decent, but not great, as I suppose one must expect airport food to be. It was leaps and bounds above the food on the plane, so I was grateful for it nonetheless. Not 10 seconds after I took the last sip of my drink, the first waitress came over and picked up my dishes. Again, without a word. With my bill already paid, and no one nearby or within easy reach to say thank you and goodbye to, I got up and left. Without a word. As I left though, I thought to myself, "I hope they don't think I'm a jerk for leaving without saying anything."

I am beginning to see how non-universal my innate Canadian politeness is. Walking around, no one made eye contact. No one smiled at one another. Men openly ogled women for extended periods of time without any attempt to hide what they were doing. And I was the only one who thought any of it was strange.

I Was Sitting, Tired but Breathing

The flight over wasn't actually as bad as I thought it was going to be. I mean, it WAS twice as long as any other flight I've ever been on. Fifteen hours in the air. That's approximately the same amount of time as it takes to play an entire game of Super Risk. I was expecting annoying passengers, bad food, boredom, and DVT. Surprisingly, only one of these ended up occurring.

Since the flight left at 10:00, it was sunny outside when we took off (fun fact: it was sunny the whole flight, because we were traveling the same direction as the sun). Because of this, everyone quickly shut their windows and the cabin crew switched off most of the overhead lights, resulting in perfect sleeping conditions. After my terrible lack of sleep earlier that day, and now that conditions in the plane were about as good as they were going to get, my body was screaming for sleep. This was exactly what I wanted, as at this point, it was 9 p.m. in Bangkok - a little earlier than I would normally go to sleep, but not that unreasonable.

I had planned on sleeping on the plane as much as possible to counteract any jet lag from the 11 hour time difference where I was going, as we would be getting into Hong Kong in the middle of the afternoon, while it would be 2 in the morning back home. At that point, I would still have about 5 hours of travel left before I got to my hotel room. And I couldn't very well fall asleep at 7 at night once I got there either. That wouldn't help me adjust at all.

I ended up sleeping for about 3 hours on and off, and then couldn't deal with the neck pain anymore. It was time to get down to business. I clicked on the tv on the seat, and flipped through the movies and shows they had for my viewing pleasure. Nothing jumped out at me, although they did have the first episode of The Wire, which was impressive. Only the first episode though, which seems like a pretty bad idea if you ask me. I shudder to think of how many people have watched that first episode aboard their flight and then gone insane before they landed because they didn't get to see any more. When I was watching the show last summer, it was nearly impossible to force myself to go make dinner or interact with the real world in any way other than clicking the play button.

Very pleased with myself for predicting this lack of decent supplied content, I struggled to extricate my bag from its spot under the seat in front of me, not wanting to disturb the sleeping asian lady beside me. Once I had it free, I got out my laptop and booted it up. Before coming home after exams I had the foresight to milk my university of a bunch of bandwidth, and downloaded two seasons of House, along with 12 hours worth of movies. All of this was now stored on the hard drive of my laptop.

I spent the next 9 hours watching The Big Lebowski and episodes of House and struggling my way through airline food (I never thought it was possible to screw up bread and butter, but apparently, it is).

When I couldn't take any more differential diagnoses I, for some reason I didn't quite understand at the time (and still don't upon further reflection), ended up watching the new Sherlock Holmes. It was cut off about 30 minutes from the end because we were landing. I feel no compulsion to finish it when I get the chance.

The best part of the flight, though, was the landing. As we made our descent, everything was white for a long time while we passed through the clouds. All of a sudden, water appeared below. It seemed a lot closer than it should have been. I didn't really have anything to reference how high we were against at first, so I wasn't quite sure, and just figured we were higher than we seemed.

A few moments later, though, a group of fishing boats appeared, and confirmed my suspicion that we really were as close to the water as I thought. We couldn't have been more than 20 or 30 stories up. A few moments later, we crossed what I assume was a shipping lane, as there were a bunch of massive ships carrying shipping containers all moving the same direction, as if it were a road for ships. Very cool.

We continued our descent until I could see the individual fish jumping out of the water, and I spotted a line of buoys that were there to guide us in. Just when I began to think that there was no way we were going to make it to any runway if we continued descending like this, it appeared beneath us, and we were on the ground.

All in all, I give the flight four out of five stars.

(+1 for lack of crying babies)

(+3 for perceived length)

(+2 for awesome landing)

(-2 for poor food)

See You on the Other Side

Wake up after 2 hours of sleep because you had to stay up until 5 packing as a result of failing to finish packing before going out last night. Angry with self for not getting prepared earlier. Swear silently at self, and promise never to do that again.

Rush to car. Drive to airport, because mother insists you must be there 3 hours early. Realize your flight leaves an hour earlier than you thought. Good thing you got there 3 hours early.

Join line to check in. Rerouted to another desk on the other side of terminal for check-in. Approach available clerk. Told by clerk this is the first class line. Explain you were instructed to come here. Clerk gives you a disbelieving look, but agrees to check you in anyways. Clerk asks where you are going. Reply, "Hong Kong." Clerk prints baggage tag, says, "you know your bag is going to Bangkok, right?" while giving you a look like you are the dumbest person in all of Pearson. Sheepishly explain you are not sending your bag to Bangkok by itself, that you are going to Bangkok too, but are transferring in Hong Kong. Clerk has had enough of you and your early morning foolishness. Clerk sends you on your way.

Pick security line where they are training new employees. Realize this only once you reach that point where you think there's no point in switching lines now. Stand in line for 5 more minutes. Stand in line for 10 more minutes. Stand in line for 20 more minutes. Finally your turn. Pass through metal detector. See security official approaching. "Hello sir, I'm going to be doing a physical pat-down on you. Come over here please." Endure most lengthy pat-down in human history. Guy looks like he's new. Of course he is. Guy makes awkward conversation asking you where you are going and seeming interested, like he didn't just pat you down.

Collect personal effects from x-ray machine. Find gate. Still 40 minutes until boarding. Remind self to tell mom this story. Promise to never show up to the airport 3 hours early. Enjoy breakfast at Tim Horton's. Enjoy an episode of House. Use washroom. Board plane.

Find out you are sitting beside a woman who speaks no english. Try to indicate that you have the window seat, so could she please let you in. No success. Lady's son shows up, explains situation to her. Revelation. Smiles. Laughter. What you assume are apologies. Obtain seat.

Roll safety video. Realize most of your flight will be over water. Wonder exactly how long they think you will last floating around the Pacific Ocean with nothing but that inflatable vest. Captain says you will be flying over Russia. Remember Korean plane shot down over Russia because of deviation from route. Pray for no deviation from route.

Taxi to runway. Maximum power to main engines.

So long Canada.

Hello world.

Welcome, everyone, to my adventures in Bhutan, in blog format. As often as I can, I'm going to be updating this with pictures, videos, and writing.

As I am writing this from multiple countries, none of which are natively English, every website I load loads in a language other than English. As a result, I have to rely on Chrome's translate function, which is decent, but I do still end up with phrases like "Watch blog review" instead of "View blog" or whatever it says back home. This is making it a bit more difficult to make everything work, but I'll try my best.

If anyone has any idea how to make things load as if I was in Canada, let me know. It would save much confusion and delay on my end.

Onward with the blog!