I didn’t want to make the trek up to Changangkha Lhakhang on my first full morning in Bhutan. Having spent the night almost sleepless, I wanted to call up Druk Air and book a ticket on the next flight back to Bangkok.
As you’ll know if you’ve read my essay about Bhutan, it was not love at first sight for me and the Land of the the Thunder Dragon. Indeed, I slept poorly primarily because of the profound distaste I had for Bhutan after the first day I attempted to explore the country.
But trek (or walk uphill—let’s not be dramatic) I did, and it was a decision I immediately knew was the right one.
Well, not immediately. It took several minutes before I saw another human being, the first one an elderly woman walking clockwise around the prayer wheels of the main tower. She paid me no mind; I’m not even sure she realized I was there. She was deeply immersed in the mantra she was chanting; on account of her age, her procession alone seemed to be taking a great deal of her physical strength.
The same could not be said for the second person, a strapping young man in a traditional gho. Well, not with regard to physical strength, anyway. He too seemed not to notice me, however, which as two people became four became eight became 16, was the clear point of commonality for the worshippers.
And make no mistake: I was the only non-worshipper, at least anywhere near the vicinity of the main tower.
The only other tourist I saw, in fact, was an Indian man seated at a bench on the viewpoint just down the stairs from where I’d spent the first half-hour or so of that very early morning.
The sparse drizzle that had defined the day up to that point intensified into something on the threshold of a downpour as I descended, however, which meant that I definitively denied the request he made upon approaching me.
Of course I won’t take your picture, you fool! I thought inside my increasingly damp head, even as I was much more polite externally. “I’m going to go stand under that awning,” I half-smiled and ran off. “Maybe later?”
By the time the rain stopped, of course, he was long gone; I, for my part, had became fixated on a small stupa with an altar full of colorful Buddha images, framed by a rose garden that made it, at the time, the most beautiful scene I had seen in Bhutan. I must’ve stayed there an hour, just trying to get the perfect shot.
Looking back, of course—and looking through the 30 pictures of Bhutan I’m about to share—it certainly didn’t remain in the top spot for long.
But becoming so utterly inspired, so immersed in my creativity, shocked me out of the funk in which my first day in Bhutan had left me. That alone is enough for me never to forget my morning atop the roof of Thimphu.
I hope this story—and these images—will make you feel similarly excited about your trip to Bhutan.
