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January 31, 2005
Hungry? Iron Chef Chhimi!
Lately we have been eating at home a lot (Save money and all). So for a change from the usual Chinese stir-fry we decided to try something different. Went to the Williams Sanoma website and tried the Grilled Eggplant, Red Onion and Pepper Sandwich with Basil Mayonnaise and Broccoli-Leek Soup. Surprisingly it turned out almost perfect. If you like - you should try and make the Basil Mayonnaise - it is Mayo up another notch.
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Posted by chhimi at 07:47 PM | Comments (1)
January 30, 2005
Serving up some Sunday Links!! And how would you like your eggs?
- What's your personality test: Just in case you didn't know you had an ass of a personality. Speaking from experience ;)
- Florida preacher dies after saying 'And when I go to heaven...: Only in Florida!!
- The Science of Flirting: For my single friends or
married ones;) [Stare into each others' eyes, Don't play hard to get ...]
Posted by chhimi at 02:20 PM | Comments (2)
Caught up with the bandwagon!
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Posted by chhimi at 02:24 AM | Comments (1)
January 28, 2005
Temps de nuit à Paris
Beautiful Paris! J'aime Paris. It was really beautiful and I had the best time of my vacation out there. I would love to go back to Paris again. Maybe when it is not that wet. There is a lot of shots of the Eiffel Tower and that's because Tabitha and I fell in love with the Eiffel Tower.
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Posted by chhimi at 03:31 PM | Comments (2)
Links for Friday
- ONLY IN DENVER: A Denver police sergeant is under investigation for allegedly threatening to arrest a woman Monday for displaying on her truck a derogatory bumper sticker about President Bush. ($5 Says cop gets away free with slap on wrist after all Denver's record for catching Kobe and Jon Bennet killer well you know the rest of the story.
- Mad Cow makes out with Goat - Goat gets Mad Cow: On a serious note - Mother Nature's is telling us to become Vegan. & Spongebob is still gay!!
- Legalizing Cockfighting: "Oklahoma, one legislator is proposing a blood-free alternative: fitting roosters with little boxing gloves and letting them slug it out."
- Man castrates self: Who needs a Rabbi when you can do it yourself? Just Google it --> How to castrate oneself? SEARCH! On another note about genetelia - "Man mistakenly cuts off genitalia, dog eats it." "I confused it with the chicken's neck," said an elderly Romanian.
Posted by chhimi at 10:14 AM | Comments (1)
London at Night
I think these were the most difficult night shots I have taken. Not because it was hard to take but rather the weather was very un-cooperative. (Freezing Temperatures – wish I had a glove or something) And for all you photography buffs – Most shots were at ISO 100 f/11.0 taken at Aperture mode on a Canon Rebel (Kit Lens) and also if you have a great person to snuggle up against or patiently waits for your artistic little arse. (Thanks Wife)
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Posted by chhimi at 08:45 AM | Comments (0)
January 27, 2005
Links of the day
I am going to try and add links to sites that I find interesting on a daily basis. (The keyword being daily - like I wish I could work out on a "daily" basis. I will try my darndest.
- Cell phone radiation levels: Comparison charts by manufacturer. Your brain is being fried - thank you call again.
- Spongebob is GAY!: So is it Patrick or do you thing Spongebob has a thing for Squidward? Ooooo!!! I get it Spongebob must be gay after all check his tight Squarepants out. Ok you crazy Christian activist groups you really need a life. The only homosexuals are those damn priest molesting small boys.
Posted by chhimi at 10:03 AM | Comments (0)
January 26, 2005
Getting to KNOW Me! (this is going to be a treat)
- What time did you get up this morning? When my wife and alarm woke me up
- Diamonds or pearls? Neither, and don’t give my wife hints
- What was the last film you saw at the cinema? Cookout
- What is your favorite TV show? Many - I am a certified couch potato looking more like the couch
- What did you have for breakfast? Tuna Sandwich I made (Tuna - with Sandwich spread and my kickass Basil Mayo) on a bed of Tomato and Alpha Alpha Sprouts) I love eating incase you don’t know me
- What is your middle name? Who knows, I don’t even know what to call myself legally - don’t want my kids to go through this same crap
- What is your favorite cuisine? All things Yummy, Seafood, Spicy Food, Thai Food, Chinese, Indian oh Yeah Mum's cooking (ask me what I don’t like - American cuisine (burgers and all tasteless bland food) esp. Thanksgiving Turkey - Yes I am thankful its only once a year I get to torture my palette.
- What foods do you dislike? See above hehe
- What your newest hobby? Photography
- What is your favorite CD at the moment? No CD not much of a music guy - used to like sappy escalator music
- What kind of car do you drive? A tiny Red Toyota Corolla with 160,000+ miles on it. Time for a new car. Maybe a giant SUV environment polluter with an obnoxious sign that says I support our troops -- idiots if you support the troops quit draining the OIL reserves and we wouldn't have to see that dang sticker.
- Favorite sandwich? Not much of a sandwich person like I said no bland food. But my trip to Paris opened my taste buds.... baguette and Foie Gras now that is a kick ass combination
- What characteristics do you despise? Whose characteristics - if it is not mine then I hate assholes. How do I know who an asshole is - well cuz I am one.
- Favorite item of clothing? Nothing, just the bare necessities.. Lately for the last year or so -- I haven’t been able to run Free as the bird (got Housemates)
- If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would you go? I'd like to go home - and if I am done with that then maybe keep traveling around the world. Don’t want to be an ostrich with my head stuck in the ground
- What color is your bathroom? Don't seem to recollect - white ask me about my reading material in the bathroom instead
- Favorite brand of clothing? Isn’t this the same as the above - whatever makes me look good and believe me not a lot of clothing out there that can make me look good...see the trend Low self esteem nothing positive to say about myself.
- Where would you retire? Now, I dunno away from the hustle and bustle
- Favorite time of day? Night, I am like a vampire. Seriously I like the night
- What was your most memorable birthday? This upcoming one... they are all special -- so you guys throwing me a surprise birthday party.
- Where were you born? PHUENTSHOLING, BHUTAN. And DAMN PROUD of it.
- Favorite sport to watch? Without a doubt Basketball, then maybe soccer -- sports I hate to watch - baseball and cricket and golf and oh yeah the outdoor channel on ESPN. Who the hell cares how you tie a fishing hook or how you good you are at killing BAMBI with a semi automatic rifle with scope and laser... make it more challenging go naked to the forest with your hunting knife - now that might be fun to watch.
- Who do you least expect to send this back to you? Everyone
- Person you expect to send it back first? My wife
- What fabric detergent do you use? Oh I am a brand name consumer when it comes to this TIDE and CHEER none of that fake brand names
- Favorite Color? Blue as in I am feeling BLUE!! Used to like Red
- Are you a morning person or night owl? You are really pissing me off --- I said NIGHT see above
- What is your shoe size? Tiny and your point being
- Do you have any pets? Four fat goldfish, Siamese fighting fish 2 housemates and wife (just kidding)
- Any new and exciting news you'd like to share with us? I am going NUTS over here. BACHAO!!!!!!
- Gold or silver? Ok this is a dumb question -- I don’t like shiny things
- Beach, City or Country? All -- depends on my mood... I think country -- mountainous country
- Favorite ice cream? Chocolate! When I am in the mood for sweet stuff. I usually can’t tolerate sweet stuff or I don’t have a sweet tooth
- Favorite flower? I don't take time to stop and smell the 'flowers'...
- What did you do for your last birthday? Whatever my wife did
Posted by chhimi at 04:02 PM | Comments (0)
Dang WEBHOST
Here is something I posted some time back before my webhost took a nap. Summary of my vacation.
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Posted by chhimi at 03:28 PM | Comments (0)
January 21, 2005
My Photo Album is back online!
After a long and tiring process my Photo Album is back online. Please go ahead and check it out. I will move archive my Paris and London pictures there when I can. In the meantime give it a whirl and try and post some pictures on my site. (NOTE: some albums maybe locked)
On another note, I am trying to start a couple of NEW blogs one will be called CHHIMI's POD or Picture of Day (Basically this will constitute of a (you got it) a picture of day – the reason why I am keep it separate is so that you guys will not be bored with the weird pictures I will be experimenting with. Note the slight subtlety not the same as PAD like my brother's site. The other new blogs that I will be starting time permitting will be a movie review section (Your critics will be the chhimi bros. - My brother and I have been avid movie watchers for more than a decade and we seem to have PhD’s in them) so we will be bringing you our reviews Bhutty style (New Release or DVDs). It's going to be huge so check back soon. (Watch out Roger Ebert and Richard Roeper!) The other site/blog will be TOP SECRET.
Posted by chhimi at 03:48 PM | Comments (0)
January 17, 2005
Day 5 & 6: Paris
Day5&6 -Paris: Christmas Day in Paris...trying to hit all the tourist sites and absorb everything we could! |
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- Sitting in the metro cart going down from Sacre Coeur |
- Anybody want to ride the carousel? |
- In front of the Moulin Rouge |
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- Look! Tabitha is so strong! |
- The Grand Arch...can fit Notre Dame in that space! |
- Sweet Tabbie! |
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- Louvre & Pyramid in the background. |
- Enjoying a little sun light! |
- Omg! How Embarrassing?! |
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- Oooh...Paris at Dusk. |
- She Rock?! |
- Bigger than life Louis Vuitton!! Wow! |
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- Christmas Stroll on Champ Elysees |
- Enjoying the moment |
- Cutie Pies! |
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- Mussels of Brussels. Leon de Bruxelles...thanks to those metro ads! |
- View of Paris from Sacre Coeur |
- Mmmm...Ice Cream! |
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- menu? |
- dress? |
- apple bread? |
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- Artist view of Paris |
- Serenity |
- Concorde |
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- The Real Moulin Rouge windmill! |
- Pierre, this is for you! |
- Window shopping inside the Louvre |
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- Taking a break and capturing the Parisian air. C'est Manifique! |
- Looking Cool! |
- Time flies when we're having fun! |
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- Sweet view... ;-) |
- Look! Chhimi with no glasses! Such a handsome devil! |
- Crap! We are lost! |
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- Sacre Coeur |
- help! I am stuck |
- ahh the Louvre - Glass Pyramid |
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- doing the "can-can" |
- a little loving... |
- and a little playing! |
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Merry Christmas from Paris |
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Posted by chhimi at 10:16 PM | Comments (2)
January 16, 2005
Day 4: Paris Notre Dame
Day4 -Paris: Christmas Eve in Paris - Tabitha's plan was to attend midnight mass at the Notre Dame. Imagine that - us going to mass or anything remotely religious - they would have been thunderbolts from heaven trying to strike us down. But we did enjoy a really wonderful day at the Notre Dame. |
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- Outside the Notre Dame - built on a Roman temple it took two centuries to get built |
- beautiful proportioned west facade is a masterpiece of French Gothic architecture |
- after climbing 420 steps - we get a awesome view of Paris |
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- Flying Buttresses at the east end of the cathedral have a span of 50 feet (taken from Square Jean XXIII) |
- HINT: climbing the 420 odd steps - if you are fat like me you may be short on breath and some places are pretty tight |
- In front of a building that had angel Michael fighting something! |
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- do you think Tabitha can balance the see-saw? |
- the spires (245 ft) in the background is from Saint Chapelle (this was something we missed - maybe the next time we are there again) |
- square that had a statue of Michael slaying some evil thingie. |
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- Oh well! I guess I can't win the position to be the next Quasimodo |
- ahhhhhhhh! |
- restaurants nearby the Notre Dame |
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- view of east side of Notre Dame! from Square Jean XXIII |
- a little too old! but enjoying the moment nevertheless |
- ahh just enjoying Christmas Eve in Paris |
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- this smart car's are too kewl - I wish they sold them in the States |
- Saint Michel Metro station |
- enjoying Moules (mussels) and fries |
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- Tab just chillin! |
- Tabitha's wishing she was visiting during midnight mass |
- view of the West Facade and the 3 portals that depicted Christ life! |
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- Tabitha's expression as she dodges a pigeon flying at her |
- Tabitha and some stone gargoyles |
- Please DONOT touch the bell honey! |
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- cage protecting the gargoyles from Tabitha |
- inner child |
- Christmas in Paris |
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- having a great time |
- Lost |
- Flying Buttress -- hehe butt.....Hey Beavis he said butt...heheh |
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- cuddling up for warmth |
- waking along the Seine |
- lunch time |
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- enjoying her sandwich |
- watching ppl ice skate |
- view of the streets near Saint Michel |
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- directions? |
- a close up view of the gothic towers |
- view of interior takes in the high vaulted central nave, choir and high altar |
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- Last Judgment Tympanum |
- another view of the interior |
- South Rose window depiction of Christ |
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- stained glass window |
- Joan of Arc |
- view of tympanum (decorated space often carved over a door or window lintel) |
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- a view of the square from up above. |
- nutty European teen skating in his underwear -- ppl out here skate only at one speed (VERY fast) |
- Nutty Japanese tourist at Champ-Elysees |
Day5-Paris: (Coming Soon) |
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Posted by chhimi at 09:38 PM | Comments (0)
January 14, 2005
Day 3: Paris Versailles
Day3-Paris: After a very exhausting day at the Louvre - we decided to hit Versailles another must do thing on our list. Here's an important tip if you have time take it easy. Or you end up losing 7lb at the end of your trip. (Coming Soon) |
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- sandwiches. Foie gras for breakfast! |
- a view of the Latona Basin and the Grand Canal |
- Bassin d'Apollon |
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- in front of the Chateau |
- too cold -- need coffee |
- Tabitha loves to do the victory symbol all the dang time |
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- Petit Trianon home to Louis XIV or XV mistress |
- bedroom of one of the mistress |
- walking the trails from the Chateau to the Petit Trianon - beautiful walk except the weather was not very co-operative |
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- more beautiful fountains (wish it were working) |
- Honey please DONOT touch the fountain! |
- outside the Chateau |
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- Chateau and fountains |
- one of many 700+ rooms at the Chateau |
- Versailles is filled with a huge park and garden - visit it as it is FREE |
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- Neptune Fountain - this was a gigantic fountain - I wish it were turned on. |
- Galerie des Glaces (the Hall of Mirrors, where the Treaty of Versailles was signed to end World War 1) |
- don't I look cool |
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- doing a Bhutanese rain dance in front of the Bassin d'Apollon - maybe/hoping that the fountain would start |
- Taken by the Grand Canal |
- who's your daddy? .... is it Louis XIV? Nope my daddy is TOM Ma. |
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- more art/paintings between the Louvre the day before - I had enough art to last me a life time |
- wonder what they are staring at? |
- an old french dood chilling with his dog (PS: French love their dogs they go everywhere with them) |
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- Louis XIV's bedchamber occupied the exact centre of the chateau from 1701 onward. It was a key setting for events in the Sun King's day and was arranged to reflect this ceremonial function. |
- The Battle Gallery is included in the Chateau's grand circuit. At 120 metres, this is the longest hall in the Chateau. It recounts French history through masterpieces. |
- RER-C (train) back to Paris. HINT: If you take the RER-C from Paris to Versailles buy the package (includes entrance to the entire chateau and trianons and headsets) it is really cheaper this way. |
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- The Chapel royal at Versailles is consecrated to Saint Louis. |
- huge room in the Chateau with cool painting on the ceiling |
- Not this is what they should attempt on weekend warriors (HGTV show) |
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- cuddling up for warmth |
- enterance of the Chateau |
- freezing in the park (my seven layer of fat could NOT protect me from the cold) |
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Formal Gardens |
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Posted by chhimi at 01:59 PM | Comments (0)
January 13, 2005
Day 2: Paris Louvre
Day2-Paris: After a well rested night we decided to hit the Louvre. This was on Tabitha's list of things to visit. We ended up spending the entire day there. As it was raining and I think we spent it well. |
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- medieval fortress |
- Sphinx |
- enjoying herself |
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- Tabitha trying to mimic Falcon God Horus |
- always with the weird Asian "Victory" symbol |
- Louvre houses more than |
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- enjoying the paintings |
- large format French paintings |
- more paintings |
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- too much art for one day |
- breakfast (viennoiseries & espressos) at the Metro |
- walk like an Egyptian --- |
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- chilling at the Louvre |
- oh My! |
- refueling time (lunch break) |
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- Flying Mercury |
- "culture-shock" |
- enjoying the paintings |
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- metro |
- is it me? or do those sphinxs look Asian |
- freaky looking coffins |
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- a scarry mummy |
- enterance to the Louvre - Glass Pyramid designed by architect Ieoh Ming Pei |
- wine cheaper than water and soda.(that is why you don't see many chubby French doods) |
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- Napoleon? |
- Feast at Cana |
- ?? |
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- The Consecration of the Emperor Napoleon and the Coronation of Empress Josephine |
- Crown |
- ferris wheel on the Champs-Elysees |
Day3-Paris: (Coming Soon) |
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Posted by chhimi at 03:58 PM | Comments (0)
Heaven & Earth
Arriving in Bhutan for the first time can give a person a bad case of the Shangri-las. The dirty monsoon heat of New Delhi quickly becomes a stifled memory, a brief stopover in Kathmandu the staging post for the heart-stopping flight east across the Himalayas. Everest, enveloped by clouds this afternoon, cedes to a hundred-mile chain of monumental, lethal snow cones with the legendary names of Gauri Shankar, Lhotse, Kanchenjunga, and, to the east, Jannu, known to its visitors as the Peak of Terror (and successfully climbed for the first time only this year). Then the plane begins its descent, and the darkly wooded crests and ridges of the Himalayan foothills mark our crossing into Bhutan.
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Heaven & Earth
by James Truman
Think Buddhist Bhutan is an otherworldly aerie in the clouds? Not quite... James Truman discovers that spirituality, in this land of dzongs, divine madmen, and Gross National Happiness, comes with a healthy dollop of carnality
Arriving in Bhutan for the first time can give a person a bad case of the Shangri-las. The dirty monsoon heat of New Delhi quickly becomes a stifled memory, a brief stopover in Kathmandu the staging post for the heart-stopping flight east across the Himalayas. Everest, enveloped by clouds this afternoon, cedes to a hundred-mile chain of monumental, lethal snow cones with the legendary names of Gauri Shankar, Lhotse, Kanchenjunga, and, to the east, Jannu, known to its visitors as the Peak of Terror (and successfully climbed for the first time only this year). Then the plane begins its descent, and the darkly wooded crests and ridges of the Himalayan foothills mark our crossing into Bhutan. The approach to the Paro airport is notoriously dicey; only a handful of pilots are certified to attempt it. A series of hard banks and looping figure eights puts us alongside a cliff face, and suddenly we're a wing's length from Bhutan's most famous site, the monastery of Taktshang Goemba, held in miraculous suspension halfway up the rock wall. One final bank and we just clear the chimney of a house beneath us, then bounce to the ground, roaring to a halt a few yards shy of the runway's end.
Out in the cool afternoon air, we're still somewhere between earth and sky. Billowing mists cascade down the hillsides toward the valley floor, while funnels of smoke spiral up to meet them—the sacred offerings of alder wood and juniper that burn constantly, scenting the air. The impression is magical, the invitation compelling. Here, it seems, is a place to rest one's head in the clouds.
The drive into the town of Paro takes us along a narrow country road lined with willow trees; beyond lie meadows and rice fields and clusters of farmhouses in the traditional Bhutanese style, handsome and baronial with their white-plastered walls and timbered beams. Pedestrians thread the roadway, all of them in some manner of national dress. And in one form or another, everyone does wear a dress. We pass farmers sporting the gho—the male costume of a patterned smock worn with knee-high socks—and monks on afternoon recess in the traditional Tibetan Buddhist robes of saffron and burgundy. Packs of schoolgirls seem to be competing for who can wear the most colorful kira, the kimonolike dress that for women fulfills every duty, from farmwork to fashion statement. We see a group of girls being hauled into the back of a police truck. Have they gone too far? Not at all. With so few crimes to solve, the police fill their days with other things, such as ferrying children to and from school.
Meanwhile, through an open window I detect a pungent, dimly familiar smell and glance out at what looks like a giant marijuana bush. My hunch is correct. Marijuana grows wild, and voluminously, throughout the country. But, miraculously, there is no drug trade in Bhutan—nor, from what I can discover, even a single pothead. Only the pig farmers harvest the accidental crop, to fatten their animals. They've discovered that it gives pigs an insatiable appetite.
Paro itself is a broad main street of shops and tiny bars, with a town square that doubles as a parking lot. Most of the merchants sell exactly the same things at exactly the same prices. The Wal-Mart philosophy has yet to arrive in Bhutan. Shopping here is based not on bargains or convenience but on long-standing relationships between families and shopkeepers. There is no agony of loyalty: You shop according to friendship.
We stop on the other side of town, at our first hotel. Tourism in Bhutan is so recent—it began only in 1974, after the coronation of the present king, Jigme Singye Wangchuck—that there is no consensus about how visitors should be architecturally acclimated. Our hotel, the Kyichu Resort, is built in a fanciful Alpine Modern style; our rooms, though perfectly clean and comfortable, are wedges in a concrete octagon.
Our traveling party numbers four: my friend Sebastian Beckwith, an epicurean tea merchant and old Bhutan hand; Sonam, our driver, who has recently left the monastic life to become a soldier ("less hard," he explains); and Karma Lotey, our tour organizer and guide. There are generally two kinds of trips available to visitors: the trekking tour and the cultural tour. I'd opted for the latter, with a few days of trekking thrown in. Over dinner at a tiny restaurant in Paro, the Sonam Trophel, where we are the only customers, Karma goes over the itinerary. I was warned about Bhutanese food before leaving New York; Ruth Reichl, the editor of Gourmet, assured me that it was well known to be the world's worst cuisine. In fact, she was investigating a story that the king was negotiating with some chefs in Bangkok to invent a few national dishes less off-putting to visitors. Our dinner, which will turn out to be the best of the trip, is an appetizing multicourse affair of fried beef dumplings, chicken soup, a vegetable casserole, deep-fried chicken, and the popular ema datse, hot peppers stewed with cubes of cheese. Pungent and sour, it is an acquired taste, and there are many opportunities to acquire it: It is the national custom to eat it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
During Karma's briefing, it becomes clear that being a travel guide in Bhutan is no ordinary task. The usual particulars of history—of great leaders and commemorated dates and authenticated happenings—are in short supply, either lost or unrecorded. And what is known doesn't make for light reading. Buddhism's arrival in Bhutan in the eighth century unleashed a thousand years of bloody conflict between rival schools and sects, interrupted only by pitched battles with warmongering lamas invading from Tibet. In the seventeenth century, a layer of civil government was added to the theocracy, plunging the country into nearly two hundred years of civil war. The appearance of the British in India led to another hundred years of skirmishes, squabbles, and uneasy truces. So while Bhutan's survival as the world's last Buddhist kingdom has an aura of grace to it, the visitor has to give up the idea that it's because the people are New Age peaceniks.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, the Bhutanese prefer to relate their history through folklore and legends. In this version, the country's founding story occurs in the middle of the eighth century, when a reincarnate Buddha, Guru Rinpoche, unified both Bhutan and Tibet under Buddhism, first subduing the local animistic deities and then, in an enlightened example of missionary work, installing them as protectors of the new religion. Thus was born the fascinating interplay of historic and prehistoric traditions that still defines this country's (and Tibet's) religious practices. In one of Guru Rinpoche's most celebrated feats, he rode a winged tigress over the mountains of central Bhutan to alight on a cliff ledge outside Paro. This is the site of Taktshang Goemba, the monastery we saw from the plane the day before. It seems like a promising place to begin, so the next day we set off for the long hike up.
Today is a public holiday, "The Day of Rain," marking the end of the monsoon season. Though the sky is a hard, brilliant blue, Karma assures me that it will rain before nightfall. As we apply ourselves to the upward trek, groups of schoolgirls wearing the traditional full-length kira come barreling past us, shyly amused by the lead-footed foreigners. The heavy traffic, Karma explains, is the result of the country's being in a special period of mourning, occasioned by the recent death of the Royal Grandmother, the wife of the present king's grandfather. In a few weeks, her body will be carried in procession across the country for cremation; until then, according to Buddhist belief, prayers and pilgrimages will still have a beneficial effect on determining her next earthly incarnation.
Ascending through pine forests, we emerge in a clearing to find a teahouse and a group of German hikers, our first sighting of fellow tourists. The trek to Taktshang Goemba is the obligatory first-day warm-up for hiking tours, acclimating visitors to both the rugged climbs and the airless nine-thousand-foot elevation. After this, they'll be off the map for ten or fourteen days, in the highlands where (many Bhutanese believe) yeti still prowl. Together, we grit our teeth and sip cups of butter tea, the national beverage made of meat stock and yak butter. (It tastes much as you would expect.)
A short climb puts us on a lookout shelf directly across from the monastery, which is closed to foreigners. But the miracle is fully apparent from across the gorge. Guru Rinpoche's arrival by flying tigress may sound like a story, but the human feat of building a monastery into the face of a sheer cliff couldn't have happened without it.
So the story resonates with a kind of fulfilled truth. And since open-fire cooking and continuously burning butter lamps ensure that monasteries are vulnerable to regular devastation (this one last burned down in 1998), the toil of reconstruction marries story and fact in perpetuity, keeping both alive.
We turn around and make a leisurely descent, stopping to chat with a middle-aged man who is sweeping the path with a homemade twig brush. I am intrigued that someone would spend his holiday engaged in this particularly useless task. He explains to us that he is accumulating merit. With both their present lifetime and many thousand forthcoming reincarnations to worry about, the Bhutanese devote themselves to accumulating merit—and thereby erasing bad karma—with the ardor of pilgrims. While I'm mulling this over, another man joins our party, jabbering in an excited approximation of English. He is returning from the monastery and is joyously, wholeheartedly, astoundingly drunk. I notice that Karma and Sonam treat both men—the do-gooder and the good-for-nothing—with equal graciousness and respect. There's a practical aspect to this: In a small country of large, related families, ripples of conflict make big waves. But one also begins to see that a Buddhist culture holds pride and shame, piety and earthliness, as something other than polar opposites. Just as we reach the end of our trek, the perfect blue sky clouds over, and to Karma's unsurprised satisfaction, it begins to pour.
From its mountainous border with Tibet to the north, Bhutan slowly descends south and east in a series of forested ridges and lush valleys. All travel is a labor-intensive procession of heaving ascents and plunging, twisting downhills. The public buses making the cross-country trek earned the nickname of Vomit Comets from the first generation of visitors, and as the name has stuck, so have tourists taken to the more commodious means of minibuses and SUVs. Our small group climbs into a black Toyota for the two-hour hop to Thimphu. A tiny village until the 1960s, when the present king's father decreed it the new capital, Thimphu is now an almost-bustling town of fifty thousand, with a raggedy commercial main street of government offices, traditional shops, and new mini-malls. A kind of Beverly Hills is taking shape in the slopes above it—an enclave of guarded driveways and smart, Western-style apartment buildings. But the core of the town is its dzong, the magnificently medieval fortress that, reflecting Bhutan's power-sharing arrangements, houses the separate offices of the king, top government ministers, and the Central Monk Body, the Bhutanese Vatican. Surrounding it, rather incongruously, is Bhutan's only golf course.
My hope in Thimphu is to meet some of the royal family, who enjoy the nation-defining popularity once shared by the British Windsors. This seems especially notable since the king has four wives, all of them sisters, and has had children with each (a fact the Bhutanese don't find nearly as fascinating as foreigners do). But the situation has been complicated by the Royal Grandmother's death, and negotiations for our visit seem to have stalled.
And then, after lunch, we receive a summons: We will be allowed to pay our respects to the Royal Grandmother. We pile into the SUV and take off past the dzong and the foreign ministry and head out of town. Soldiers line the road as we turn into a private driveway that leads past the royal palace and uphill to a clearing where two brightly colored marquee tents flutter in the gathering wind and rain. We're led toward them and sit on benches surrounded by obediently silent schoolchildren. An attendant offers us tea or coffee; when I decline, she looks quietly furious and tells me I must have a cup. A few moments later, an older woman wearing Western makeup—the first I've seen—approaches, proffering a newly opened pack of Benson & Hedges. Not wanting to make the same mistake twice, I take one, and we sit together smoking, watching the misty squalls roll down the hillside toward us, bemused spectators at some washed-out Felliniesque pageant. From the nervous chatter around us, I slowly deduce that I am actually sharing a smoke with royalty—this is the king's aunt.
Invisible ice has been broken, for we are quickly led back to the SUV and escorted up the hill to a modest bungalow that once served as the Royal Grandmother's meditation retreat and is now the scene of her lying in state. Billowing clouds of incense and the gravelly sound of Buddhist chanting fire the air with a voluptuous solemnity. A dozen or so monks, some of them mere children, are wearily intoning the sutras of death and rebirth; they've been here for weeks, barely sleeping, and they will remain for several weeks more until the funeral procession heads east. In Buddhist culture—and one where, until recently, the life expectancy was in the low forties—death is held as an opportunity as much as an ending, the necessary bridge between lifetimes. For the Bhutanese, the Royal Grandmother also served as a bridge between generations, and their mourning is freighted with history. Her husband was the second king in the royal lineage that, beginning in 1907, brought an end to the centuries of civil war, skirmishes with Tibet, and struggles with the British colonizers to the south. A delightful fictionalized memoir of this period, The Hero with a Thousand Eyes, tells the story of the second king's court: With its unfathomable intrigues, capricious punishments, and outrageous entitlements, it could be the story of any feudal, medieval kingdom. Except this one occurred in the era of Roosevelt and Churchill. Indeed, it wasn't until the ascension of the third king in 1952 that serfdom was formally abolished in Bhutan.
The handsome woman who greets us, dressed in a dark kira of mourning, is introduced as Ashi Dechen, the daughter of the third king and the sister of the current king. She leads us into an airy sitting room furnished in an Anglo-Indian style, and over the droning and cymbal-clattering sounds of the monks outside, we share tea and marble cake. Hearing my English accent, she reminisces about her and her brother's schooling in southern England. I struggle to picture the dislocation of a Himalayan prince and princess leaving the closed kingdom of Bhutan for 1970s Britain, with its tabloid press and Socialist politics and abrasive pop culture. But our conversation stays within royal protocol, with an occasional detour to discuss meditation practices and religious beliefs. At one point, I mention our difficulty in getting permi