TRAVEL TALES:Stepping back in time in Bhutan

Bhutan? You’re going where? Is that a country? We’ve become used to answering these questions and others if the topic of our recent journey to Bhutan comes up.

Over the holidays, I had the opportunity to visit this remote Himalayan country with my wife Chana, daughter Dagny, 16, son Orion, 14, and a few friends.

Nestled between the Chinese province of Tibet and India, about the size of San Bernardino County, the kingdom of Bhutan has maintained its independence and unique traditions, creating a spectacular experience for anyone wanting to step back in time and visit a true Shangri-La.

Small in size but rich in culture and unique traditions, Bhutan, or “Land of the Thunder Dragon,” is remote and historically limited to outside visitors. We reached it via Los Angeles International Airport to Bangkok to Kathmandu, Nepal, and then to Paro, Bhutan. It’s been slowly opening up, with King Wangchuck permitting television and Internet access in 1999.

The government is known for the value it places on “The Gross National Happiness,” as opposed to other more accepted metrics of a country’s well-being.

Like turning the clock centuries back, it was an amazing journey in this strongly Buddhist and perhaps first nonsmoking country. The main narrow-paved road winds from east to west, leading to many close but friendly encounters between our van and colorful Indian trucks with “Good Luck” emblazoned across the front.

We were absorbed into a sacred landscape of Himalayan peaks, thickly forested mountains giving way to small valleys with irregular rice fields and bravely maintained terraces reclaiming every possible inch of arable land in this country of ridges and valleys. Richly ornate and decorated farmhouses and buildings dotted the view.

By combination of geography and stewardship, Bhutan is one of the least deforested and beautiful countries on earth. Colorful prayer flags flap from poles and ropes placed on both ridges and passes to carry the mantra and blessing of Om Mani Padme Hum to the wind. Prayer wheels ranging from hand-sized at temple entrances to over 8-foot-tall versions powered on roadsides by streams, turning clockwise and delivering merit to the builder, turner and viewer.

In Jakar, our rooms required the heat of wood-burning stoves. We played a Bocce-ball-like game of rock throwing with the owner, Tichen, and several local monks. Both our American leader and our Bhutanese guide, Kunley, went to great lengths to arrange intimate experiences, such as a visit to a local family’s farmhouse.

Though our Dzongkhan language skills were limited to “hello,” “thank you” and “arra” (the smoky homebrewed national beverage), we were made quite welcome and allowed to sit in on part of a three-day religious ceremony in their family altar room, conducted by a Lama and five other monks. It was to give thanks for the prosperity the family had experienced and to ensure it wouldn’t stop. We squeezed into a small room with its Buddhist altar. Incense burned thickly, filtering the light of small windows as the monks chanted ancient prayers, punctuated alternately by drums, pairs of piercing bagpipe-sounding horns and powerful duos of other horns.

We were shown other parts of the farmhouse, then offered dried rice and pounded corn cereals and a bit of arra. We couldn’t understand a word, but the grandmother was quite the party animal, laughing at the jokes we didn’t understand, doing a dance and laughing again.

A majority of the people we met wore the traditional Gho for men and Kira for women. We all purchased our own at a shop in the capital, Thimpu. Though it proved impossible for us to dress without the help of one or two Bhutanese, the effort of wearing them seemed to please people we met. Strangers would walk up, adjusting a fold or belt, smile and walk on.

While in Trongsa, we had an incredible opportunity to attend a Tshechu, or sacred festival, honoring Guru Rinpoche, the “precious teacher” revered in the country’s pervasive Buddhist faith. Held in the Trongsa Dzong, a large fortress-monastery built in the 1640s, it was a unique experience with few Westerners present relative to the crowd. Clusters of fun, curious children joined us and asked questions wherever we sat. One made a braid in my daughter’s hair as they watched the spectacle together. The dances, such as the “Dance of the Lord of Death and his Consort,” were performed by ornately costumed monks who gained merit for their efforts. While each dance was extremely serious and sacred, devilishly masked clowns worked the crowd with gags or made seamless corrections to a dancer. Contrasts like this were common throughout the trip.

This unusual experience was organized and led by Bruce and Fran of Barron Adventures, www.barronadventures.com, who arrange and guide remote adventures, treks and expeditions.

Bhutan? Is that a country? Yes, but like no other.