We woke up the next day to a beautiful morning view of Punakha. And no water!
(My lousy net connection no longer lets me upload pictures to blogger. However the pictures can be viewed here, uploaded through the Google uploader for Apple. Love Google. Love Apple. Love Canon (not relevant here, but what the hell!)
The next hour and a half was spent waiting for water, over cups of tea and coffee (I had to switch to coffee, which I felt was a safer choice, after a disastrous cup of tea), and a couple of trips to the kitchen, but mostly hanging around in the pigeon-shit infested balcony. It was a beautiful, peaceful morning, as I suspect most mornings in Punakha are. The air was clear and crisp, and in the distance, in the compound of the local temple, we could see a couple of monk boys fooling around with a hosepipe. They were probably supposed to be watering the plants, but were busy chasing each other. I was a little upset about the water situation, or atleast I wanted to be, but with each passing day I was realizing how difficult it was to be angry in that country, and indeed with its people.
Rather delayed, but well fed with a breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast, we set out to explore Punakha. Our first stop was Chimi Lhakhang, a small 15th century temple, sitting on a hillock shaped ‘like a woman’s breast’! On the way we crossed this board with posters of election candidates. Bhutan, as you might know, recently became a democracy having held their first ever election last week. This change was ushered in by none other than the King himself, another indication of the sensible, far sighted man he appeared to be. No wonder the Bhutanese dote on their King.
Our driver, this time a Nepali fellow, dropped us at the foot of the hillock at the entrance of a narrow, kachcha path. We walked through a small village and then some fields and soon enough had lost our way, which was strange because we could see the temple and so knew the general direction we were supposed to head in, but it was such a narrow path, that it was easy to get misled. There was nothing to distinguish the paths made by the villagers who worked in the fields, from the one that would have led up to the temple. Ramya realized we were off course, and we retraced our steps until we reached what we thought was the correct way. The walk up could not have taken us more than 35-40 minutes, but city bred, or should I say city spoilt as we are, breathing polluted air, and doing little by way of exercise, we were a little breathless on our way up. But the beauty of the surrounding landscape more than compensated. As we climbed up the small hillock, we realized it was surrounded by hills on all sides, and far in the distance we could see a river, on its leisurely, meandering course, while closer home in another direction was the picturesque little village we had crossed. Between the village and the hillock were stepped fields. And of course the hillsides were dotted with small white houses.
Chimi Lhakhang is a temple dedicated to fertility. It is frequented by childless couples or those who have suffered miscarriages or early deaths of their children. It is believed that the blessings received help in conception and in keeping children safe. A wooden effigy of a Drukpa Kuenley’s male organ is used to bless pilgrims. (This part I read on my way back from the temple, otherwise I would have asked to see it for sure. We weren’t ‘blessed’ with any such thing of course.)
As is usually the case, the most beautiful part of the trip was the journey, in this case, the climb up and down. We spent some time inside the shrine, but were mostly outside, walking all around the temple. While we were there, several other people came visiting, including an Indian couple that looked distinctly Bengali. We had no intention of making any polite conversations, so we steered clear of them. What fascinated me were the Bhutanese women who were walking around with complete ease in their high heels and half kiras. They weren’t exactly walking on paved roads or flat land!
Soon enough we were on our way back. This time we didn’t lose our way. We reached a little early though, our driver who had taken other passengers in order to make a little extra money while we were at Chimi Lhakhang, hadn’t yet returned. So we looked around for tea at the few small shops at the beginning of the path. Strangely enough they didn’t have tea, but a giggly young girl at the first shop offered to make some black tea. ‘No milk,’ she apologized. Ramya was happy with this too.
Then came a memorable experience for me. I wanted to pee. I asked her if I could find a toilet. She giggled some more, and told me I could use theirs. Their ‘toilet’ was a small shack at the side of the house, made with wooden planks, with gaps between the planks, and a couple of positively gaping holes. It stood on top of a pit some six feet deep, with some more planks thrown across. Below I could see the muck, though incredibly it didn’t smell much. What was a bigger source of consternation for me was a boy in the distance who had seen me enter and was looking at the shack for sure. I could see him through the damn gap, could he see me? I wont ever know of course. I took a leak as quickly as I could, and ran.
While Ramya had his tea, I took out my camera, for a beautiful shot that I didn’t get. An old man had come and parked himself on a bench right next to the window of the store, and was playing with a child, while the woman looked on from the window. But as soon as she saw the camera she backed off. No amount of persuasion worked, ‘Not interested,’ she told me emphatically.
(My lousy net connection no longer lets me upload pictures to blogger. However the pictures can be viewed here, uploaded through the Google uploader for Apple. Love Google. Love Apple. Love Canon (not relevant here, but what the hell!)
The next hour and a half was spent waiting for water, over cups of tea and coffee (I had to switch to coffee, which I felt was a safer choice, after a disastrous cup of tea), and a couple of trips to the kitchen, but mostly hanging around in the pigeon-shit infested balcony. It was a beautiful, peaceful morning, as I suspect most mornings in Punakha are. The air was clear and crisp, and in the distance, in the compound of the local temple, we could see a couple of monk boys fooling around with a hosepipe. They were probably supposed to be watering the plants, but were busy chasing each other. I was a little upset about the water situation, or atleast I wanted to be, but with each passing day I was realizing how difficult it was to be angry in that country, and indeed with its people.
Rather delayed, but well fed with a breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast, we set out to explore Punakha. Our first stop was Chimi Lhakhang, a small 15th century temple, sitting on a hillock shaped ‘like a woman’s breast’! On the way we crossed this board with posters of election candidates. Bhutan, as you might know, recently became a democracy having held their first ever election last week. This change was ushered in by none other than the King himself, another indication of the sensible, far sighted man he appeared to be. No wonder the Bhutanese dote on their King.
Our driver, this time a Nepali fellow, dropped us at the foot of the hillock at the entrance of a narrow, kachcha path. We walked through a small village and then some fields and soon enough had lost our way, which was strange because we could see the temple and so knew the general direction we were supposed to head in, but it was such a narrow path, that it was easy to get misled. There was nothing to distinguish the paths made by the villagers who worked in the fields, from the one that would have led up to the temple. Ramya realized we were off course, and we retraced our steps until we reached what we thought was the correct way. The walk up could not have taken us more than 35-40 minutes, but city bred, or should I say city spoilt as we are, breathing polluted air, and doing little by way of exercise, we were a little breathless on our way up. But the beauty of the surrounding landscape more than compensated. As we climbed up the small hillock, we realized it was surrounded by hills on all sides, and far in the distance we could see a river, on its leisurely, meandering course, while closer home in another direction was the picturesque little village we had crossed. Between the village and the hillock were stepped fields. And of course the hillsides were dotted with small white houses.
Chimi Lhakhang is a temple dedicated to fertility. It is frequented by childless couples or those who have suffered miscarriages or early deaths of their children. It is believed that the blessings received help in conception and in keeping children safe. A wooden effigy of a Drukpa Kuenley’s male organ is used to bless pilgrims. (This part I read on my way back from the temple, otherwise I would have asked to see it for sure. We weren’t ‘blessed’ with any such thing of course.)
As is usually the case, the most beautiful part of the trip was the journey, in this case, the climb up and down. We spent some time inside the shrine, but were mostly outside, walking all around the temple. While we were there, several other people came visiting, including an Indian couple that looked distinctly Bengali. We had no intention of making any polite conversations, so we steered clear of them. What fascinated me were the Bhutanese women who were walking around with complete ease in their high heels and half kiras. They weren’t exactly walking on paved roads or flat land!
Soon enough we were on our way back. This time we didn’t lose our way. We reached a little early though, our driver who had taken other passengers in order to make a little extra money while we were at Chimi Lhakhang, hadn’t yet returned. So we looked around for tea at the few small shops at the beginning of the path. Strangely enough they didn’t have tea, but a giggly young girl at the first shop offered to make some black tea. ‘No milk,’ she apologized. Ramya was happy with this too.
Then came a memorable experience for me. I wanted to pee. I asked her if I could find a toilet. She giggled some more, and told me I could use theirs. Their ‘toilet’ was a small shack at the side of the house, made with wooden planks, with gaps between the planks, and a couple of positively gaping holes. It stood on top of a pit some six feet deep, with some more planks thrown across. Below I could see the muck, though incredibly it didn’t smell much. What was a bigger source of consternation for me was a boy in the distance who had seen me enter and was looking at the shack for sure. I could see him through the damn gap, could he see me? I wont ever know of course. I took a leak as quickly as I could, and ran.
While Ramya had his tea, I took out my camera, for a beautiful shot that I didn’t get. An old man had come and parked himself on a bench right next to the window of the store, and was playing with a child, while the woman looked on from the window. But as soon as she saw the camera she backed off. No amount of persuasion worked, ‘Not interested,’ she told me emphatically.
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