bhutan - paro

Finally made it to the Tiger's Nest monastery

Even the arrival is as good as it gets. The plane takes a spectacular run along the wall of the Himalayas and then does a left, plunging quickly into the clouds until suddenly we are in a deep sided high valley, the mountains rising up close on both sides. Monasteries and farmhouses in exotic style appear close enough to wave to the occupants as the plane banks steeply, following the twists and turns of the valley.

Paro has Bhutan’s only airport and it’s also in Bhutan’s unique vernacular style. My co-travellers on the trip, Gus and Norma, whom I met up with the previous day in Nepal, are as impressed as me with the arrival. There is a slight wobble at immigration as they have my old passport number, not the new one, but this is quickly sorted and in I go. Here and throughout the trip we discover that our movements are known and planned, and frequently checked, but always with courtesy and efficiency. Norma believes she is asked at the customs desk: ‘Do you have any secrets?’ and this somehow seems far more appropriate to this mysterious and unknown land than the prosaic ‘Do you have any cigarettes?’, which was the real question, though Gus and I let her believe her version for a few days.

We are met by our guide and driver for the 2 week visit – Tshering and Hem, both young and charming and always helpful. We are taken round the little town at Paro, with its numerous general stores with dark mysterious interiors selling not very much, and also the dzong – the fortress/temple that dominates the town. Every town has its dzong, dating mostly from about 400 years ago when Bhutan was in almost constant civil war. The Paro dzong was the seat of one of the most important warlords or barons and is particularly fine, on a prominence overlooking the town, with its courtyards stepping up the steep rock, around a central tower. Young monks flit about inside and we find a group of them aged about 10-18 playing football with a tennis ball on the stone flagged forecourt. ‘Would you care to participate in our game?’ asks one in perfect English; but we decline.

We are starting to get an intro to the local brand of Buddhism and its iconography, which is unique and quite extraordinary. Buddha in three incarnations, past, present and future; Guru Padma Sambhava, who brought Buddhism here from Tibet on the back of a flying tiger and who has eight different aspects; an immense number of gods who seem to owe more to Hindu and even pre-Hindu shamanic tradition. Every valley has its protective deity who has to be propitiated, and judging by their angry, fanged blue faces and necklaces of skulls, if you don’t pay the protection money you can expect to be kneecapped. Then there are the gods of the north, south, east and west – respectively yellow, blue, white and red; not to mention the cloud fairies, who dance on rainbows and are altogether more charming. To attempt to untangle all this is only to invite more confusion and more lists of aspects, incarnations, gods and demons. All, though, are accepted as different routes to the same thing – Enlightenment, as preached by the Buddha himself.

Tshering proves a great storyteller, and charms us with the stories. Though it’s never clear how much he thinks of as true and how much he recognises as parables or allegory, it’s obvious he believes the central tenets of the religion, and even still wishes he had become a monk. In his gho, the traditional dress that a high proportion of the population still wears, and the open weave fringed prayer shawl he drapes around himself when we visit the dzongs, he looks elegant, poised and noble, despite frequently telling us how humble are his origins.

We retire to our cottages perched high on a ridge over the town, part of the charming Olathang hotel at Paro. There is a buffet for guests and we start to understand what Bhutan cuisine is about – chillies. They are used here as a vegetable, not a spice – or I should say as vegetable and a spice, because alongside the chillies with cheese dish and the chilli chicken, there is a set of condiments all featuring chillies; and just in case, some lethal looking raw green chillies too. And you thought Thai cuisine was hot!

Next day we are off early for our first day trek – to the ‘Tiger’s Nest’, Taksang Monastery. When the Guru came he meditated at various remote spots, and one of them was this. We began to wish we had a flying tiger too as we made the arduous climb. Starting at the valley floor at about 2500m, we eventually climbed 500m over a few hours, with frequent breaks. I think only Tshering’s pace setting got us there. All three of us were shattered by the top, but it was well worth it. Slowly it came into view far above, then was glimpsed at turns on the way, until suddenly we were almost upon it, across apparently impassable ravine. We had to drop down about 150 steps and then up again to complete the trip. It’s possibly the most familiar image of Bhutan, but as usual with familiar images, they don’t do justice to reality. Even inside, the monastery continues to rise through many steep flights and courtyards to the shrine of the Guru’s cave.

It was cruel of the Gentle Trek organisers to start off us unacclimatized Brits - who never get much above sea level - on this walk, and probably should have been arranged towards the end of the tour.

We also visited another temple in the valley. Built in the 8th C, Kychu lhakang is one of Bhutan’s two oldest temples. An ogress was held to be stretched out over the whole of Tibet and Bhutan. By pinning her down with 108 temples, Buddhism could flourish. Inside, a funeral rite was being held. These are held at intervals in the weeks after the death, then again a year later. The family looked on as about 20 monks of all ages from 9 to 90, in their wine red robes chanted, beat drums and played flutes and trumpets.