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.