We got back from Bhutan yesterday, and while we were immediately grateful for Japan’s efficiency, clean bathrooms, and the great food, we also felt detached from the world we came back to.

Though it was a mere two-week vacation, we feel like we’ve been gone for months. While we were gone, the dollar plunged to around 100 yen, Bear Stearns went bust, and a big riot broke out in Tibet. I realize now how truly disconnected we’ve been.

Before we went to Bhutan, we imagined a magical country and an equally amazing adventure. It was all that we hoped for, but we came back with much more. To answer the question, Patrick’s brother asked us — No, we did not come home as Buddhists. But I think we took something of the Bhutanese spirit back with us.

When we got home, Patrick took one look at his office, and said he wanted to clean it out because there was too much crap. This morning, when it rained, I thought about taking a taxi to work as I often do. But the thought that I would be spending the equivalent of a week’s salary for Chencho on a single ride stopped me from doing so. At the train station, I could have rushed to get on the train that was pulling up, but decided against running to catch it because I can just take the next train, and I would get to work eventually anyway.

I’m certain that as the days go by, we’ll be sucked back into our previous lives, but I hope we do hang onto some of the spirit and values that we took away from Bhutan. I used to think the idea of Gross National Happiness instead of GDP was amusing, but I think I understand it much better. If the little girl at the Bhumtang school asked me now whether I was happy, my answer would still be the same – yes, I am. But I would be more comfortable with my answer now that I have a better sense of why happiness might be all that matters when it comes down to it. As long as you try to do what you can to be happy then the little things won’t matter as much. Thinking about what makes one happy will also help you figure out what is most important to you. It’s not fundamentally different from my past outlook on life, but I’m definately more aware of it.

We may eventually forget a lot of the details about our time in Bhutan, but I think Patrick and I will wonder from time to time what Chencho, Ugyen, Rinzin and all the people we met are up to.

We got up this morning at 6:15 am to see the great scroll of Guru Rimpoche that the Paro Dzong unrolls during its festivals just once a year. It’s supposedly one of the 10,000 things everyone should see before you die, and we’d read that these scrolls, which are hidden away carefully most of the year, are Bhutan’s greatest works of art.

Many of the guests at Aman woke up at 2:30am to see the procession, in which the monks carry the box with it to the Dzong, where they hang it from the top of the temple. The scroll covers the whole side of a building. I wanted to see the procession, but Patrick was reluctant, and I was persuaded by Paul, who expounded on the meaninglessness of non-believers to witness such an event. The scroll was going to be up until 8am, so we went to see it in the morning.

Having seen it, I have to admit that Paul was right. The painting was quite impressive, but it meant nothing to me, though they say that just looking at it cleanses us of our sins, which sounds alright to me. Our guide and driver, on the other hand, were gazing at it solemnly and praying under their breaths. On the way back, I was amused that Ugyen stopped to help a young man, who was struggling to figure out how to put on the cream-colored cloth that all men have to wear on the temple’s grounds. Even in religious Bhutan, it seems some of the young are beginning to lose touch with aspects of their tradition. I was also interested to see that a popular toy for boys at festival time was a toy gun. I even saw a young monk with a toy gun in his hand, and tried to get a photo, but sadly missed the opportunity.

After lazing away the morning, we spent our last afternoon going for a bike ride and playing archery the old-fashioned Bhutanese way. I just watched, but Patrick hit the target three times, which our guide says was the all-time record for any foreigner he’s seen. I’m not sure how true that is. We got a sense of the entertainment aspect of this sport, however. Whenever Patrick missed, Ugyen, who was standing near the target, would tease him about how terrible the shot was, and point at the target to show him where it is. “It’s not here,” he would say, pointing at the air.
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Today was the big day we took our longest hike yet to see Tiger’s Nest, a monastery that hangs on the side of a mountain about 3,000 meters above sea level. It’s the place where Guru Rimpoche is said to have arrived on the back his wife, who he had turned into a flying tigress.

The hike takes a solid two hours on a fairly steep path, as well as more than 600 steps, the first 400, which dip down before you have to climb up to the monastery. This is a must-do hike that everyone who comes to Bhutan does, but it was painful. The stairs, particularly, was my idea of a personal hell. The monastery, however, is beautiful. The original, unfortunately, burnt down in a fire about a decade ago, but they’ve rebuilt it on almost the same exact footprint, and it’s quite amazing that such a structure could be built hundreds of years ago.

Chencho told us that about 25 monks live at the monastery, including a 15-year old cousin of his that we bumped into when we were up there. He looked no older than 10 years old –Patrick later commented that their diet must be such that the teenagers probably don’t hit puberty until their much older than their Western equivalents. Inside the main temple, we prostrated ourselves, and got blessed with holy water by the head lama there.
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Today, we made our way from Punakha to Paro via Thimphu. On our way to Thimphu, Chencho and Ugyen entertained us with more stories. The Bhutanese apparently love practical jokes, and the jokes they play on each other can be a bit extreme.

Chencho was a little upset with Ugyen this morning because Ugyen yelled that Chencho was “fluttering” with other women, while he was on the phone with his wife. Ugyen had to call Chencho’s wife later to apologize, so Chencho could avoid getting the “tiger massage” treatment when he got home. Chencho also told us about how some of the staff snuck a pair of woman’s underwear in his rucksack after a trek before he got home, leaving his wife to find it. The lesson he took away — always make sure to inspect your bags for falsely incriminating evidence before you go home. Ugyen followed by telling us about the time one of the staff was sent on training to Thailand, and there was a big tsunami. Some of the guy’s friends thought it would be amusing to tell his wife that he died. His wife gave several offerings and prayers in mourning before her husband came safely home.

Apparently, there is very little that is sacred with their practical jokes, and the name of the game is often getting the husband in trouble with the wife. I read in one of the guidebooks that marriages can still be fairly informal, and government registrations are suggested, not required. I’m not sure if that has anything to do with it, but my impression is that casual sex is not unusual here.
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We spent the morning, hiking part way to the Punakha Dzong from the lodge, passing by one of the third king’s palace’s on the way. The palace is very modest in size, no bigger than the farmhouse on the Aman property, which itself used to be owned by one of the queens. People are free to walk on a trail that goes through the king’s golf course and right by his stables, where his horses roam freely. Chencho told us that the palace is still used by the fourth and fifth king and once when he was taking a pair of guests through the trail, they actually bumped into the king, who was golfing. He suggested they walk along the side, so he doesn’t hit them. The golf course was the oddest that we’ve seen. The area around each of the holes was covered in asphalt instead of grass. Even though security is clearly not as big of a concern in Bhutan, it’s hard to imagine, any other country where security around the king is as low key as it appears to be here.

The Punakha Dzong is an incredible piece of architecture, half of which is used as government offices, and half of which is a monastery. The inside of the temple had gorgeous drawings of Buddha’s life story. We learned here that the story of Buddha’s birth is similar to Jesus Christ in that he was conceived by a holy spirit. In Buddha’s case, that came in the shape of an elephant, and he was born from his mother’s armpit.

The one thing we were disappointed to witness at the dzong was the ugly tourist syndrome. We saw a woman guest from our lodge, posing in front of the monastery with her shoulders bare, an act that shows utter insensitivity to the culture. We later saw the same woman walk up to two Bhutanese women, who were chatting, and take a photo of them in front of their face without saying a word. It made us feel ashamed about being a fellow tourist.

In the afternoon, we went to the Divine Madman’s Temple, which is otherwise known as the fertility temple. For some reason our guide decided that he would use the word “dick” to explain the three penises that the monks use to bless you. That sent us snickering each time. It wasn’t the most adult moment for either of us.

In the evening, Patrick won yet another game of Scrabble. The winning word was JA, which doesn’t even exist. After unsuccessfully challenging him for days on words I’d never heard of, it totally disgusts me.

But the assistant lodge manager, Artie, had a nice surprise for us. They arranged a private dinner for us in the old kitchen of the farmhouse. I had the most delicious sausage ever, made out of yak, for a starter, followed by the Indonesian rice dish, nasi goreng. I’m falling in love with this chef’s food. Rob, the chef, came and joined us for a drink towards the end, and we had a great time chatting with him. Rob has been here for 7 months. Our guess is that it can get a bit lonely, though he seems to making the most out of his time, and his food is probably the best out of all the Amans we’ve been at. I was even amazed a couple nights ago that the butter tea he had made as part of the Bhutanese dinner was delicious.

Punakha was the first lodge, where we felt like the communal dining thing worked. Though we’re probably the youngest, we’ve met all sorts of interesting people – Brits, Americans, an artist, an orthopedic doctor, a physical therapy docter… We’ll probably be seeing many of them in Paro, where everyone is sure to be to attend the big festival.

We spent the morning on a two-hour hike to Khamsum Yuelley Namgyal Chorten, which was built by one of the queens for the fifth king in 1990. The inside of the stupa was beautiful, albeit fairly new. Chencho explained that the queen built it herself for her son to ensure prosperity and wise governance. Patrick asked if it was built with taxpayer’s money, but this was treading into dangerous waters. Chencho was adamant that it was her very own money that she earned from running a women’s organization, but I agree with Patrick that it’s probably unlikely that’s the case. But as long as the people aren’t complaining, who are we to say anything?
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We spent 6 hours in a car to get from Bhumtang to Punakha. I’m still disappointed that we weren’t able to buy honey in Bhumtang, which is known for it, because it’s out of season and the stores were completely sold out. I’ve been reading Michael Pollan’s “In Defense of Food,” which advocates eating seasonally, but I had no idea until now that even honey has a season.
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Today we went to Tang Ugyen Chholing, which required a bumpy hour’s drive on an unpaved dirt path with lots of rocks. The ride was uncomfortable at best, but on the way, we went through a village that was celebrating something to do with Guru Rinpoche, and having an archery competition with old-fashioned bows and arrows.

It was almost straight out of Katie Hickman’s book. The men were roaring drunk, and shooting at targets that were 150 yards away. We watched on the sidelines and we could see what she meant about the craziness of watching drunk men shoot arrows and trusting them not to hit you. They were, however, good-natured. An old woman sang a song as we got out of a car – we think it was that traditional song that women sing before or during such competitions. Then a friendly, but very drunk man offered us homemade bangchang, the buckwheat alcohol that we also had at the farmhouse yesterday. This one was served to us in a plastic bucket, and you could see some specks of dirt or something floating in it. Trusting that alcohol will kill bacteria, I had a sip, and Patrick finished off most of the rest of it. We seem okay so far, so no harm done. After our guide and driver had a couple rounds of archery, we took off for the most pleasant hike, on a perfect day, overlooking one of the prettiest valleys I’ve ever seen.

I finished the day with a nice massage and a pleasant dinner. It was one of the most ideal days here. I’ve so completely lost track of days here that I was startled to realize that today was Saturday, and we’ve been on vacation for a week.

What we thought would be just a pleasant bike ride today turned out to be quite an adventure. We went to a place called Ura Valley, and the idea was that we would take the car as well as the luggage truck, with our bikes loaded, to the top of the valley, and bike down into the villages, which is known to be the first Bhutanese village. Then the car and truck were to take us back up to the top, and we were to cycle down back to the hotel going the other way.

Midway, though, Ugyen had a surprise for us. We were going to have lunch at a farmhouse that belonged to the family of his former assistant when he was driving a truck. Ugyen has taken them rice and chilis when he passes by, and they are very fond of him. So we took our picnic lunch into the house, where they showed us into the alter room, where Bhutanese families would typically invite guests. We sat on mats and had lunch.
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We arrived in Bhumtang yesterday – Ugyen’s hometown. We got up this morning at 7am because I had asked to visit a school, which started at 8:15am. We got there to find the children hard at work, cleaning the school. At 8:45am, they gathered in the schoolyard for the daily assembly. The school has about 900 students in grades 1 through 8. Assembly started with a prayer for wisdom and two presentations by a student – one in English and the other in Dzongka. Finally, a student raised the flag of Bhutan and they all sang the national song. The presentations are apparently rotational and each student has to do one once a year.

The principal told us that there are about 50 students per class, but about 90 percent of them go on to higher education, which is pretty impressive. He had visited a school in Canada at some point, and he said he was struck by the informality between teachers and students there. He said they put distance between students and teachers in Bhutan, which is good in some ways, but also makes it difficult for students to confide in their teachers when they have problems. He said they were also trying to get rid of corporal punishment.
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Today we made the 5-hour trip from Thimpu to Gangtey. We started out with a blessing for a safe journey by a monk, who chanted something, tied a white piece of string around our neck and gave each of us a little holy water to drink and put on our heads. We were told to keep the string around our neck for three days. Being superstitious, I plan on doing just that.

Patrick and I are definitely feeling the altitude. Gangtey is about 3,000 meters above sea level and the two passes we have to go through to get there are even higher. Even a short hike up a hill puts me out of breath, I have a low-grade headache, and I feel tired and a bit oxygen deprived. The only consoling thought is that running will hopefully be easier when we get back to Tokyo.
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The day started with a little morning tea called ngaja, a Bhutanese milk tea (tea, milk, sugar) that was brought to our room. Bliss! We haven’t experienced this since we were in Sri Lanka, and I’ve already decided that we will order this every morning (Patrick could care less). To me, nothing makes me feel more pampered on vacation than a hot cup of tea while looking at the view outside in your bathrobe.
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We woke up bleary-eyed at the Novotel airport hotel in Bangkok after landing at midnight the night before and getting just 3 hours of sleep, but the trip started out as magical and exotic as promised even before we got to Bhutan.

After we boarded our early morning Druk Air flight, the flight attendant welcomed the Royal Highness, ladies and gentlemen. Apparently, we were sharing our flight with a Bhutanese princess, though we never saw her on the plane. The flight, we found out, was also to make a stopover in a place called Dhaka, which gave us our first (and only) glimpse of Bangladesh. We were struck by the tremendous poverty just looking out the window. Then 20 minutes before we landed in Bhutan, the pilot told us to look outside the windows on the left side. We did, and there was Mount Everest in all of its glory. I never thought I’d see Mt. Everest and since I’m not a climber, it’s probably the closest I’ll get to it. Finally, when we landed, we saw a small group of officials standing and rolling out the red carpet for the princess. I still can’t figure out where she was sitting because she wasn’t in first class with us. My best guess is that she had a special seat in the cockpit with the pilots.
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Japan is the land of harmony, or “wa”. One of the most important traits for everyone to live peacefully in such a small country is to make sure that you don’t cause conflict or stand out too much. But I’m learning that it doesn’t necessarily mean that you can’t get your way, or you have to give in to people. It just means that you have to figure out way to get what you want without being confrontational. I learned about one useful technique to accomplish this at my kimono-wearing lesson this past weekend.

I had bought a beautiful antique obi (the thing that you tie around yourself at the waist) to go with my yellow kimono several months ago, but when I was finally ready to start practicing with it this weekend, my teacher discovered that it was a little too short. She suggested that I go to a kimono shop that she knows to get it lengthened, which you can do by adding other material to the parts that will be hidden when you tie it into an elaborate bow.

After she gave me all the information about what I should ask them to do, she had one last piece of advice for me. She said to me, “They are very fair at the shop, and they won’t try to cheat you, but they are running a business, so they’re going to try and sell you other stuff. Don’t buy anything else. Just tell them that you already have a lot of kimonos and accessories that were passed down from your mother.”

She then quoted a Japanese saying that essentially meant “sometimes it’s necessary to lie.” It gives white lies a whole new meaning.