Paro town is about 50 kilometers from Thimphu. So we
were not in a hurry to start early the next day. We wanted to take our time
since it was our last morning in the capital city of Bhutan. So we got up early
(early as per my definition), got dressed and went out to take a stroll about.
Now we could fully comprehend how tight our schedule was – 7 days was not
enough. And we wasted so much time visiting the commonplace tourist spots that
we missed the real flavour of the country that is so unique from so many aspects.
Bhutan is famous for its colourful local handicrafts.
We had already visited the handicraft bazaar yesterday and the entire sitting
area of our room was bearing the evidence of my shopping spree. S was thankful
that we had chosen the largest room. Who says there is nothing to buy in
Bhutan? Bhutan is shopper’s paradise if you have the eye as well as enough
money to spare. During my pre-trip research phase I had read that the postal
stamps of Bhutan were great souvenirs to take back home. Honestly, I’m not much
of a philatelist myself but the curious shopaholic in me urged us to go and
explore this option as well. The GPO building was across the street at the back
our hotel. They have a separate gift shop near the entrance. Upon entering the
building we had the similar feeling of an underprivileged neighbour entering
the house of his much well-off counterpart. Exactly how shabby and chaotic are our
post offices back home? Never mind. That was a rhetorical question. I do
shudder at the thought of having our mother nation occupied by a certain
community famous for their inclination towards dogmatic beliefs and terrorist
activities. But given a chance, I would run off to any of those nations where
law and order actually mean something to their people. And Bhutan is one of
such countries.
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| The mural of the Druk Gyalpo (which one I don't know) made of postal stamps |
Again I must confess that philately is not my cup of
tea and hence I decided not buy postal stamps despite being fascinated by their
variety and flamboyance. Instead, we bought some post cards to make a collage
of them and hang it on the wall.
Kenchen was a punctual guy and he came to pick up us
up right on time. As usual I started bombarding him with my questions as soon
as our journey began. And as usual his acquiescent disposition did not falter
for a bit.
I am not very good with directions and distance but as
far as I recall that after leaving Thimphu behind our car crossed a small
bridge (it means we went to the other side of Wang Chhu) and soon our car came
to a halt. Apparently now we were standing on the bank of Wang Chhu and an ancient
(and rather scary) looking metal suspension bridge ran across the river
conjoining two sides. Now my reader, it’s time for a little recap. Remember I
mentioned a guy named Thangtong Gyalpo here – the fourteenth century Buddhist
teacher who also happened to be a civil engineer. He is said to have built 108
(some say 58) iron chain suspension bridges around Tibet and Bhutan and the
bridge we had just witnessed was one of them. There was a small monastery atop
a hillock on the other side of the bridge – Tachog Lhakhang, established by the
same guy.
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| That's S trying too hard to look all smart and daredevil despite being absolutely petrified |
S started crossing the bridge with visible exuberance
as soon as we got there. However, there was no way in hell I was going to cross
that ancient bridge that was swaying dangerously with people on it. But at the
same time I was dying to reach the other side. There was also a wooden bridge
that ran parallel to Gyalpo’s iron marvel and despite its termite-laden
appearance it was steadier and hence safer option for coward but nevertheless
curious people like me. So I took the chance. The wooden counterpart of the
iron one, however, turned out to be no less scary with gaping holes on the
floor. I had to watch my step and at the same time chant ‘Om Mani Padme Hum’
while imploring Thangtong Gyalpo not to take offence as I did not take the iron
path. Gyalpo seemed to have forgiven my impertinence and taken pity on my
coward soul as I reached the other side and back unscathed.
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| Tachog Lhakhang |
If Thimphu is the aristocratic lady who would sweep
you off your feet with her extravagant splendour and magnetic charm, then Paro
is definitely the au natural village belle who would win your heart with her
warmth and humility. Paro was love at first sight for me. And my dear reader, I
am one of those extreme cynics who look at everything with suspicion and
criticism in their eye. So when I utter the word love, it must mean that the
shot has really gone home.
Paro is a quaint, little town of Bhutan with less
people, less traffic and friendlier dogs. I don’t think even a smidgen of
pollution was there in the air of Paro. When was the last time I took a deep
breath? I don’t remember. I hung my head out of the window and filled my lungs
with the pure air of Paro. Paro is a beautiful testimony of how serious the Bhutan
government has been about environmental as well as cultural conservation. To those
who go gaga over the Gross National Happiness from the very moment they enter Bhutan
but actually have no idea what the concept of GNH is – GNH is equivalent to our
GDP to measure a country’s gross income as well as the economic growth. The only
difference is GNH comprises of four main components – high per capita income or
sustainable socio-economic development, good governance, environmental and
cultural preservation. GNH is basically an index to measure how wholesome the
effect of growth has been in the society. It has nothing to do with how many
times a Bhutanese person has smiled at you during your stay. And the government
is determined to protect the natural resources and the cultural uniqueness of
the country. Now you might be able to fully comprehend why it is mandatory for
a Bhutanese to wear the traditional dress. However, one thing that I found to
be baffling and rather contradictory with the government policy is the reckless
use of plastic. Uses of plastic bottles as well as bags are still not
prohibited in Bhutan and people litter them pretty much everywhere. What kind
of a prudent policy is that?
The climate of Paro is definitely cooler than that of
Thimphu. We felt the chill in the air even with the scorching sun on our head.
Our first task was to find a hotel first and then go out to have lunch. The day
trip was not over yet as Kenchen had instructed to wait for him after lunch.
Apparently, we were going to visit the Paro Dzong in the afternoon – the
colossal building we had spotted on our way.
We were tired of having typical food for lunch and
wanted to try something new. I did not do much research about famous food
joints of Paro whatsoever so we had had better thought going out and explore
our options. After a short stroll and some window shopping we spotted a little
place peeking out from the maze of wooden houses – the signboard bore the name,
‘Authentic Pizza’.
“Wanna try the authentic version of the resident food
of Italy in the Himalayan kingdom of Bhutan?”
“You bet! Let’s go.”
I have never been to Italy so I did not have a frame
of reference here, but the pizza was delicious. At least it was way better than
the crap we eat at those shame upon the mankind American food chain outlets.
To be continued
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