An example of why progress cross-country is slow. It took 45 minutes through constant switchbacks to reach this overlook back to our hotel less than a mile across the canyon.
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We asked the small lady to bring us some ice for the “Breezers” we tried. She came back carrying the entire refrigerator…….
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Something over your head to set the breakfast table by…. these are homages to the “Mad Buddha” who travelled the country using this instrument to extract demon or negative energy from 50% of the local population.
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Eastern Bhutan is known for its textiles and weaving of sheep’s wool, yak wool, and silk…. silk spun from the cocoons that they gather and labor into threads and then weave very fine Gho’s (men’s traditional attire), Kira (women’s traditional attire), and all manner of products. Local villagers told us about this first lady who is deemed to be so good that she only works on projects ordered in advance. To get to her house we had to trek down a steep, cow dung littered, trail to her extremely modest (putting it politely) home perched on the side of a hill (past the house in the photo–the footpath is to the right of the house). She works in poor light, steady, told us all about her sore back, sore fingers, etc., in a very generous, gracious manner. Very sweet lady and incredible work. Here she is working in the bedroom, living room, kitchen, and bedroom with her husband and two children, and her home….. no running water, no sewage, only one electric light bulb (which is a new feature).
These two ladies (mother and daughter) have been weaving side-by-side for as long as either of them can remember. Back-breaking, sitting outside in the cold on concrete, strapped into what is supposed to be a back support, one raw silk thread at a time. Fine work. The mother’s husband had taken the bus the 8 hours or so each way into town to sell them. We prefer to “buy direct” –and so we did. The other 3 ladies are in a different village in a “weaver’s cooperative” of the region’s women where they learn and sell their products and share (somehow) in the rewards. To carry them through the months it takes to make some of these garments (5-6 months for the one we bought–they said), the cooperative pays them a monthly stipend. Hard to say which wears out first–the eyes or the back…. or the fingers.
The people, the people. Enjoy the collection of people, we did. One left an indelible impression. We came upon this elderly gentleman (truly gentle) sitting by himself quietly disassembling the woven plastic bags that we take for granted—the kind large quantities of seed come in (my guess is that he picked them up along the road where they fell off passing trucks). We buy our 40-pound bags of bird seed in such bags and throw them into recycling after one use. We stopped to see what he was doing…… each strand removed from the bag was then woven into a rope that he was making (we believe to tie to his one cow that was nowhere in sight). As soon as we stopped and he looked up, he let out a very broad smile and nodded as if he had known us for a long time. Our guide spoke to him in one of the many dialects. He did not know how old he is. He looked 80-ish…… anyway, through our guide we exchanged pleasantries and small talk about what he was doing, where he lived (nowhere in sight), etc. As we gathered ourselves up to leave, he took off his hand-woven bamboo, cotton, and plastic bag hat and gave it to me. With as much grace as I could, I plead for him to keep it. He would not have it. First he merely offered it. Then he kept thrusting it and finally when we were about to leave and my window was about ½ open with me thanking him with the common gesture of praying hands, he thrust the hat through the window with a big smile and then clasped his hands. Two old men smiled generously toward each other and we drove away. He asked for nothing but he gave very much.
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PEOPLE: All ages, genders, activities, vocations, all delightful. No surprise.
Our intrepid guide (Phuntsho on the right) and driver (Kinzang) in traditional attire. Each are the best we’ve ever had! Make everything much more pleasurable and give us relative comfort about the safety of this adventure. Full of knowledge, interesting stories, legends, and superstitions. Good humor all around.
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Approaching 14,000 feet the clouds and snow are settling in—replacing the drizzle that made the dirt/gravel road that much less a joy. Then there was the descent to Bumthang…. Part of which was in the dark.
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The entrance to a Buddhist temple on the outskirts of a typical small village. I assume that I am not the first one to compare these to the cathedrals of Europe. Our guide (Funzo) and our driver (Kinzgang) are in the foreground.
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