Confused Conversations

Once again, it was back to being the only tourist in the village - I would probably guess I was the only tourist in the whole valley, knowing that area of Bhutan. By now this is something I'm rather used to and am actually beginning to enjoy. Though my guide I managed to hold multiple conversations and rather like in Borneo, everyone was rather amused by my hobbies. One conversation amused me greatly when I look back at it, as they have a point.



It was now time to try and discuss sailing with a land-locked Bhutanese.
"This 'sailing' then, where do you go?"
"Usually just out into the bay and back again."
"So you don't go anywhere?"
"Not really, just out and then back."
"But you fish when you are out in the bay though?"
"No"
"Why not, you are in the bay after all, does it not have any fish?"
"It has fish, but I can buy my fish from the market, we are there to race other boats instead."
"But you are out there already, why not fish and save the money?"
"Well, I race against other boats, that's more exciting!"
"So where are the other boats going then?"
"They are the same as me, they go out and back too."
"Oh, so they aren't going anywhere either?"
"[Trying to change the subject a little] I also do a martial art."
"What's that then?"
"It's where I practise fighting."
"So you are a warrior?"
"No, I don't fight anyone."
"But if you don't fight, why do you practise?"
"It keeps me fit."
"But why don't you work in the fields, that will keep you fit and will also make your family money?"
"Because I don't need to earn extra money, I have a job. I do this to relax."
[To his friend]"These foreigners have too much time and waste it doing strange things..."
I think he's got a point.



During the archery competition, we were all kept well fed with the local tuak, a kind of rice-wine which varied greatly in strength from about 10%, to about 35%, although that was just a guess as it was all home-brew! Unfortunately, the archers were also keeping up with the drinking, and being that they started before 7am, must have been close to paralytic as they rocked from side to side, desperately peering into the midday sun to see the tiny target.

In true "room full of monkeys, typewriters, Shakespeare," style though, hit the target they often did, actually more often than I would have been able to, so hats off to them. Whenever this was done, a wonderful dance erupted, which pretty much meant "well done for hitting the target, aren't we better then the opposition!" Either way, it was great to watch and something I later repeated much to everyone's amusement during our own archery competition.

Despite offers to give it a go, I was rather aware of the close proximity of everyone to the target, coupled with the fact that I haven't shot a bow in over seven years. I was [briefly] part of the archery club at uni though, so archery is something I'm pretty good at. Not that I was about to tell the Bhutanese that!

Accompanied by a few of the locals and a throng of small children eager to see the foreigner and his weird archery style, we found a small paddy field where we would try our own mini-competition. It was the driver and guide on the Bhutanese side, vs me for the westerners. We were all being rather modest and didn't really want to let the other know any level of skill.


[The target is at the base of the three trees which were propped up, it's the wider bit of trunk of the middle one - I managed to hit it three times!!]


[This is the target close up, with my arrow in it :-)]

With our target placed at a modest 70 metres, which is still a very long way away, we fired off our series of arrows. Much to my excitement, I trounced the locals! The first game was 0,0,7 to me. As you can imagine, the children found this very amusing and although I don't speak Bhutanese, the hard time they gave my Bhutanese friends was evident for all to see. They weren't impressed about the foreigner beating them and so a hasty re-match was organised, with the older Bhutanese providing a few tips to prevent a second white-washing.

My glory was short lived; we were using a child's bow and it couldn't really stand up to the forces being placed on it. So with arrow in hand, I let go and watched as the bow self destructed all over me, sending bits of string, wood and arrow in all directions. By some slight miracle, no-one was hurt and the bow was quickly repaired, but still needed a bow string to be complete. The round two of beatings would have to wait until another day.

After spending a very cold night in the house of one of the locals, which was akin to my survival experience in the Arctic (who builds a house with windows and doesn't put any shutters or glass on them - and then places it in the wind-channel of a valley!?) we were off to see some more sights and our next valley.



The following valley was significantly higher and therefore colder. Recent snowfall meant that the journey took longer than expected, but with some truly stunning views on the way there, it certainly wasn't a let down.

After a late arrival we settled into our hotel. Once again, I was the only guest. Each time I would enter the main dining room, the huddle of five employees would quickly get up from their chairs which were huddled around the fire in the middle of the room and bow to greet me. Unfortunately, the hotel's generator had failed, so no heating or hot water was currently operating. This meant that the only way to warm up the room was a small fire in the room which had to be lit. Lighting fires has never been an issue for me, in fact, it's usually the other way around. I like my fire hot, and that means I like them big. Something which had already got me into trouble whist in the jungle as I scorched one of the tarps with my inferno. Consequently, lighting the tiny little fire in my room wasn't an issue.



When I came into the restaurant for the evening meal, the hotel staff looked really puzzled. I asked what was up and one of them said that it was strange that I didn't need heating in my room: they thought that I had not lit my fire. On telling them that I had already lit my fire using the matches and wood provided just outside the room, they looked even more confused. How could a foreigner actually light a fire?? Apparently the last guest which had just checked out had been so inept, they had used two boxes of matches to try and light their fire, and eventually gave up. Wow, I'm glad I'm in no survival situation with them!

That evening we played some more cards and I took it unto myself to teach the people of that valley a game called "Big Two", which is always good fun in a large group.

The next day we departed back the way we had come, but after only 2km were coming across some difficulties. The ever faithful Toyota 4*4 which I had earlier praised for being one of the most reliable cars on the planet, had been listening. Today was its day to wind me up and stop working. Don't worry, it's only -10 outside, probably about -40 with the wind-chill. Oh, and the nearest mechanic is about a 3 hour drive away. Drive, yes, that thing we cannot do right now.



After some faffing around with the fuel pump, and multiple stops to jump out, pump the fuel pump a little more manually, and then hop back in again, the car finally managed to warm up and get going as it should. Phew.



At the ridge of the valley we came across a large queue of traffic. It seems that the fog and ice had collected on a single road and everyone was waiting for this to clear before proceeding. Not us however, for we had no fear [sense] and decided to half slide half drive our way down, with only a few twigs and some grass hidden under deep snow to keep us from falling a good few hundred metres. I'm glad our driver was good!



After another night on the road we arrived in the second largest town in Bhutan, which is about the size of Dorking (if you are from Surrey) or perhaps Hamworthy (if you are from Dorest.) If you aren't from either of those places, imagine a large village, perhaps 100,000 people. Here we were to take our flight out the following day, but first I was off to see the Bhutanese tourist sight and in true Bhutanese style, it involved a walk.

Every country has one, the "must see" sight, and for Bhutan this is a temple on the side of a cliff. I'm not talking about a temple which has been built right next to a cliff, no, this has been built ON a cliff. It was quite a sight.




After a brisk walk which the guide said takes between 90 minutes and two hours (so we almost jogged up it in less than 28 minutes - I'm a stickler for competition okay!) We took our first glimpse of the temple, which, I think you will agree from the photos, is quite a sight. Apart from the prat standing in the way that is...



Whilst there we also came across our first beggars of Bhutan, which had been a pleasant break from India where they seemed to be everywhere. These beggars were a little different though, being small puppies (everyone go "ahhhh")...



That's enough of that.

With the final major sight of Bhutan wrapped up, I can only say that it's been amazing. I can see why people say that Bhutan is one of the most unspoilt places on earth; fingers crossed it will stay that way until I return, just please, sort the food out between then and now?

The only thing which remained was to read Michael's article in the in-flight magazine for the Bhutanese airline, as I gawped out of the window at Mt Everest...





Onwards, to Hong Kong!

Bhutanese whirlwind!

Arriving in the capital of Bhutan, Thimpu, 36 hours after departure from Singapore, an early night was called for.

Rising early the next morning, we had been transported to a magical place. The small city of Thimpu was firmly lodged between the majestic slopes of towering giants, each one weighing in at over 4000m, almost four times that of England and Wales' highest peak, Snowdon.




Following a brief orientation of the city, my friend in Bhutan, Michael, was contacted and he advised me to wear my formal attire! Coming from the jungles of Borneo, I was rather surprised to hear formal attire was a prerequisite for me meeting him. We quickly went about acquiring a Bhutanese Gho, a dressing gown really, knee high socks and formal shoes. It was a good look, although probably only in Bhutan.



We rushed to meet Michael, who detailed the reasons behind the formality; we were to meet the chief justice minister, who had just been awarded the Bhutanese equivalent of an O.B.E. Oh, and most of the government would be there too!



I was then given a very brief tutorial on how to greet the minister. In Bhutanese culture, when one receives an honor such as a promotion or medal, it is customary to give them a white scarf. Apparently this says something about their purity, but in all honesty I wasn't listening. Instead I was concentrating on the required moves. One has to bow, with palms facing the person, to about shin height (the height depends on the person, king would be to foot level, normal to knee,) then one standard and flicks a concertinaed scarf from one hand over the opposite arm, offering it to the person.

I had one practice, now time for the real thing.

After being ushered into his mansion on the hill, past many other dignitaries, some with swords, we entered the giving room. Official photographer on one side, aide the other, with a grinning minister planted between them.

Only the mountain of white scarves to negotiate and it was Michael's turn to do the move. It went well, with the minister looking impressed. Pressure is on. My random presence is quickly explained and now it's my turn. Bow, stand, flick and offer. Success! I even got a compliment and photo for the occasion (the photo was rather cheeky given the queue!)



After mingling with the great and good, including the only cancer doctor in Bhutan and all the judges, we eat the chilli-based buffet and depart. I for one now was a little wiser on the subtlety of Bhutanese politics.

The afternoon was spent with a different part of Bhutanese society. The King's chief bodyguard had just been promoted and we were going to congratulate him as he was a personal friend of Michael's. This event, being important yet again, required another stab at the white scarf presentation, but was less nerve-wracking given the previous success!

After presentation, we then sat down and spoke with him, via his daughter as interpreter, on what he felt like. One thing which didn't need any interpretation was how proud he was - that shone through. We then received alcoholic rice-wine drinks with egg (mine contained almost a whole egg shell too, which I duly crunched and swallowed most of it to not offend the host). Oh, and there was some chili floating around too just for good measure!!



With new years' eve drawing in, we headed for a rather fancy restaurant service western cuisine, before meeting up with some expats to celebrate new year.

Earlier that day, I had inquired as to how many foreign nationals lived in Bhutan, my guide, instead of giving a number as I would have expected, proceeded to list the five foreign nationals he knew of in the whole of the country. He wasn't far off in his estimate!

Once at the house of an advisor to the Bhutanese government on environmental issues (as almost all foreigners just advise) we proceeded to have the most surreal of evenings. Surrounded by mostly Europeans, we all turned our hands to learning an Irish jig, followed by some line dancing. At first, I thought I must have just been a slow learner, not picking up the required moves nearly as fast as many others, but later it transpired that most of the crowd had been practicing this dance every week for the past few months. I then felt significantly less inept!

The following day it was time for the real work to begin. I was to climb with my new, fitter and younger guide to 4500m, spending the night with a Buddhist monk tasked with looking after a small temple.



Setting off early on new years' day, this was to be the most work, or anything I had done on any new year before midday! We headed off up a steep slope and within 2 minutes I was covered in sweat and breathing hard; it was going to be tough. Little did I know my guide was finding it just as hard. 15 minutes later he started to straggle; it turns out that neither of us wanted to loose face so we had almost been jogging up the slope!

With the walk scheduled to take 3 hours, I was understandably happy when we hit over three quarters of the way after only 45 minutes. We had been going fast!




Once arriving at the monk's place, my guide mentioned that he had spent much of the last 13 years in isolation; it showed. During the evening meal, the monk served up as usual. Then, as we reached to serve ourselves, he snatched the serving plates out of our hands! Apparently, he wanted the rice, and fast!

After spending the evening discussing why he chooses to live in isolation and how he came to be there, we drift off whilst the snow-storm rages outside...

The following morning everything was awash with white. It was truly a sight to behold, and captured poorly on camera. You'll just have to trust me that it was a really amazing sight. One made even more majestic as we sat on the hill, huddled around a fire we had quickly erected, waiting for the clouds to clear (which they did slowly).









With the climb down the hill taking significantly longer than it really should have done, owing to some really awful navigation (finger of blame well and truly lodged at the guide - sorry!), we headed off into the heart of Bhutan in search for a more rural view on Bhutanese life today.

Journey's across Bhutan are always amazing. Firstly, the roads are pretty darn slow, with winding roads and perilous drops resulting in an average speed of 25km/h (and he was going as fast as I could/would want to go). The speed limit across almost all roads is set at 40km/h anyway!



Arriving at a tiny village, one day's travel outside the capital, we were swiftly guided up the hillside, to an encampment where the yearly archery tournament was being run between two rival villages. In a field on the steep banks of the valley, we gathered in two huddles, one around each target. Safety "UK" style is a thing of the past there, with everyone staying only metres (about 10) away from the targets. Although this doesn't sound too bad, please bear in mind that the archers were firing from a station over 150m away - that's a long way for any shooting competition, let alone an archery one! Luckily, with archery being the national sport of Bhutan, they are all damn good.



For now I shall leave you, but I shall return with the remainder of the Bhutanese story soon.....

P.S. Sorry for not updating this in a while, but internet cafes are a rare sight in China, although WiFi hotspots are very common - I now have a small laptop and so have little excuse as I write from Shanghai!