We left our 5 star luxury accommodation in Kolkata at about 8.30, but only after a few ‘alarums and excursions’. First of all our toilet ballcock got stuck and so water flowed continuously into the bowl. This made it unusable since one could not flush. We called down for help, but it was so slow in coming, we decided to shower else we’d be late for breakfast. While I was thus engaged the technician arrived so lChristine asked him to return in 10 minutes. In the interim the toilet magically righted itself, so ‘Mario’ returned we had to tell him he had had a wasted journey.

Breakfast was also a little fraught as they ran out of cereal bowls and it took a long t8me for any to appear. Butter was provided in such small quantities that we barely showed it the toast and it was gone. Furthermore no one offered us tea or coffee until we had almost finished eating. As I was sorting out luggage, I actually never got any – not a good way to start the day.

However the hotel has kindly agreed to look after our Bhutan luggage and hand it over to our Indus rep. on the 19th when we return to a different hotel nearer the airport for our flight home. Prayers would be welcomed that the arrangement is achieved in all its complexity!

It took us quite a while to get to the airport due to road closures. Once there we were immediately offered upgrades to first class for £30 each. Christine and I thought it wasn’t worth it for a 50 minute flight, but 6 in our party went for it. The 4 of us plebs that we’re left were herded with cattle prods into the truck that passes for economy and levered into our seats by fiercesome harpies wearing military uniform. Actually it was perfectly comfortable for the less than 40 minutes we were in the air during which the overworked, and I suspect underpaid, trolley dollies served us a snack meal and bottles of water. The wealthy in first class got a warm towel, napkins and a chicken dinner with drinks and a wider seat – not worth £30 in my book!

Anyway at Guwahati, we were met by some very comfortable cars which whisked us to the outskirts of the city and then snailed us through the chaos that is the city itself. It took over an hour to arrive at our hotel. The journey though provided us with fine views of the Brahmaputra and the usual entertainment of life on the street in India.

Our hotel is fairly basic but very welcoming and we were given iced tea, a red and white shawl and a bindi with rice grains on arrival. Our room has a slight smell of smoke, but we can live with it fir one night. After a brief break we headed off in cars to the Kamakhya Temple about 8 km north-West of the city centre. The drive took forever of course as we sped along some bits and ground to a halt in others.

At the temple we climbed up flights of steps passed shops selling all sorts of brightly coloured cloths and threads. Goats laid out on the steps and there seemed to be an inordinate number of pigeons. At the top we had to remove our shoes before entering the temple grounds. More goats and pigeons awaited inside, some of them strangely dyed a rather glorious pink ( we later learnt it was actually vermillion that tended to wear off). Our guide explained that this temple dated originally from the C 5th (the bit shaped like a beehive) while the rest was from the C17th. According to legend a furious and grieving Shiva carried the body of his wife, Sati or Parvati around the world. As he did so parts of her dismembered body fell to earth. All these sites have been sanctified by major temples. Kamakhya is believed to be where her vagina fell and is therefore said to have special powers associated with energy and creation. The vermillion dye used symbolises menstruation and it us plastered all over the statues and the an8mals brought for sacrifice: hence the pink pigeon and goat.

We went into the main courtyard where many Indians wanted selfies with various members of our group. A whole family posed in their festive gear for us to photograph them. Then we entered the sacrificial hall and saw where the goats and buffalo are sacrificed. We crossed into the main temple and saw another shrine covered in red and gold cloth with vermillion dye scattered around. Pilgrims were lined up to enter the holy of holies where a shiva linga is located underground.

We left the temple and climbed some steep steps to get an overview of the comlex. As we left some pre-adolescent girls wanted to be photographed with David. Our guide explained that they were from Nepal but lived nearby. As they were pre-adolescent they were regarded as holy. Once they started menstruating they would have to leave, but until then they would be prayed for. Their parents believed that their time here would make them more fertile.

On the way back down to the cars we asked a wandering guru for his photo. He got h8mself into a suitable position and then allowed us to take pictures. David gave him some money which would help him buy food as these holy men have no possessions.

Our journey back was muc( the same as the journey there. However our meal tonight was excellent and the service was efficient and very pleasant. We thought the staff at the Great Eastern could take a leaf out of their book. We drive north t9morrow to join our boat on the Brahmaputra.

Few pictures I’m afraid as the internet here is very poor. It may be impossible to post for the next few days as we will be on a ship with very limited internet.

A ‘ripping day’ today look around the sights of Kolkata. Breakfast here is a lavish affair, with so much choice it takes at least 15 minutes to work out what is on offer and what it is you fancy. Even then I missed the dhosas on offer, but there is always tomorrow!

Our excellent guide met us in the foyer at 9.00 and we set off on foot for a wander around the old colonial quarter of the city, taking in the old Government House built in the mid18th century and now the residency of the state governor; the High Court built to look like the Cloth Hall in Ypres; St John’s Church, which we visited before and the GPO. We then entered the BBD Bagh (garden) which has a large tank (lake) in the centre of it. While in the latter a flash of turquoise announced a kingfisher was present and a heron wandered idly along the shoreline.

All around us as we walked, life on the street went on uninterrupted by the sight of 10 fascinated foreigners.

We were then met by a mini-coach which took us to Mother Theresa’s house still the offices of the Missionaries of Charity. We visited her tomb, a small museum devoted to her life and her simple room with a bed a desk and a chair. I was more moved than I expected to be, for clearly the work she did amongst the poorest in the city was remarkable. Some of her sayings about religion and community were also interesting and inspiring to read.

We were driven down to the flower market below the Howrah Bridge. We enjoyed again the colour and bustle of this market and the incredible structure of the bridge towering above it. The scent of flowers was regularly interrupted by the scent of sewage and it soon became obvious why. A blocked drain was being cleared by hand and the effluent carried away in baskets on the workers’ heads.

We got back on the coach and this time we drove over the Howrah Bridge, past the main railway station with 22 platforms and then back over the new bridge and past the Victoria Memorial to our lunch place. This was a rather dark, basement restaurant called ‘Flavours of India’ that served only Chinese food – don’t ask. It all took a long time to come, but once in front of us it was delicious. Frankly we were glad to rest awhile in an air-conditioned room after the heat outside.

After lunch it was a short drive to the Victoria Memorial, which was complete in 1921 as a tribute to her maj.. It is a domed classical structure of enormous size. We approached from the front, but as you can see were advised to approach from the rear! It is clearly the place to be on a Sunday as it was packed with Indians, all coming to view their national heritage. Within the space of 5 minutes I had to pose for 2 selfies! We waited for our guide to organise our entry and I went to take a picture from a vantage point in the entrance, down into the gardens. Next thing whistles are being blown and guards are shouting. Apparently I had committed some sin by walking onto this area, although there was no sign nor indication that this was ‘verboten’. Anyway we were let in and wandered first into the central dome with its cases of old weapons and a central statue of Victoria as a young queen. We climbed up onto the gallery which runs around the dome and had a closer look at the paintings on the dome of Victoria’s life. A particularly vicious sounding female guard shouted and blew her whistle at people up there, although what rules had been infringed it was hard to tell.

Back down, we went around an exhibition of Kolkata’s history which was fascinating but difficult to see because of the crowds. There was really too much information as well, so we had to gloss over much of it. Lastly we went into an art gallery with an exhibition of pictures from Kolkata and other areas of India by artists, (mainly British) who had worked in Kolkata. It has to be said there was not much of quality there.

We came out into the relative cool of the gardens and wandered down to the equestrian statue of Edward the Seventh. Some crows were building a nest in his bridle. I sat on a bench to watch them, and as I did so I heard a distinct ripping sound. There was no doubt, my old linen trousers had split around the crotch and backside. I sought solace from my dear lady wife you just collapsed in helpless giggles. By lowering the strap on my camera bag and holding it behind me, I managed to get to the coach with a degree of dignity. However as I climbed into it something must have shown as two young Indians were laughing and pointing as I took my seat. Thank goodness they didn’t take pictures.

Our final stop was St Paul’s Cathedral built in 1847. It is unusual inside having a large nave with gents’ seating to the left and ladies to the right. There are some interesting epitaphs on the walls, but unfortunately photography is forbidden.

So now we are awaiting dinner and my trousers are in the bin. I am trying to put it all behind me, but I have a sneaking feeling that my dearest and my friends may not let me.

Sitting here in our rather splendid room, in the legacy tower of our 5 star hotel (LaLit Great Eastern, if you want to look it up) one can’t help pondering on the vicissitudes of life. For a start this morning, Christine had a hot / warm shower and complained that it got rather cool towards the end. I left it for 20 minutes while I packed and then plunged in. The water had clearly come straight down from the snow capped peaks above the hotel. Then I noticed that someone I shared the palatial suite with had turned off the water heater the night before! “I didn’t know what that switch did”. “Then why did you touch it, dearest?” So no shower for me before heading for the airport!

Scroll forward and we arrive in this unashamed luxury and I strip to my birthday suite (try not to imagine it, there’s no point in putting yourself through that much distress) and dive into the shower. I pull every lever, turn every knob, but there is no water. I call down to reception and apparently the main pump has broken and the whole hotel is waterless until it is fixed. A second missed shower!

Then I remembered the man we passed on our way from the airport, bent over a public standpipe in the middle of a busy pavement and street , washing himself down in his boxers. I have now showered in wonderful hot water, with soap and shampoo and conditioner and am now sitting in a leather armchair contemplating a wonderful night’s sleep in a bed with a choice of pillows. I really have no right to complain about a couple of missed showers!

We said goodbye to Sunam and Numgay at the airport. We were so fortunate to have two such excellent guides. The two hour wait for the plane stretched to nearly three as the flight was late coming in. There was then a great deal of confusion as three planes were on the tarmac and boarding, so making sure you got on the right one was something of a lottery. The tannoy was inaudible above the assembled throng and there were no signs, illuminated or otherwise.

We were u0 and down before we knew it and into Indian immigration, very speedily. It did take three officials to sort us out, but eventually we were allowed into the country. Our baggage was looking very lonely in the carousel, as only about 10 of us had disembarked at Kolkata. Onc3 through customs we looked for our rep., but no one offered himself. I ph9ned the local contact who assured me the rep. was waiting outside. We stepped into the 35C air and there he was. Although it was about 12.30, rush hour seemed to be still going on. We edged our way towards the hotel, the driver and rep. vying with each other to point out significant landmarks.

Our hotel is unbelievably posh, as are the prices. Two cups of tea and some goats’ cheese bruschetta set us back nearly £13! Still, we are on holiday, but from what I’m not quite sure! We met up with everyone in the tea lounge where a delightful and very patient guide gave us a brief history of Kolkata. Poor man had to compete with a variety of styles of music played over the lounge’s speakers, which apparently could not be turned down. He did very well, all things considered.

Dinner at 7.00, then a tour of major colonial sites tomorrow morning. Until then I shall luxuriate – perhaps another shower while the going’s good?!

I think this hotel is aiming to be luxurious, high end and chic, but doesn’t quite make it. Our suite is very pleasant, but the toilet seat is precarious, the shower sprays water over the entire room if you don’t have the curtain fully drawn and the hot water is not enough either for a full bath or two sequential showers. The food in the restaurant is satisfactory without being anything special. Service is pleasant but slapdash – no sugar for coffee, asked for and quickly arrives, but no spoon to stir it with, – that sort of thing. More annoying was that there was no accommodation available for our driver and guide so they had to drive to Sunam’s home north of Thimphu or else pay full price for somewhere in town, and they are not paid enough for that! Grumble over!

Today we joined many others and walked up to the legendary Taktshang Goemba which translates as ‘The Tiger’s Nest Monastery, which hangs off a sheer cliff. It is said that Guru Rinpoche flew to the site on the back of a tigress to subdue a local demon. He then meditated in a cave there for 3 months. It was built in 1692 around the holy cave. Unfortunately, like many dzong it largely burnt down in 1998 but was rebuilt between 2000 and 2005. There are five temples inside.

The climb begins in the car park which was packed. People of all nationalities were climbing up, although very few British. At first you get staggering views of the Paro Valley as you climb up through pine forest.

At the half way point is a cafe serving not bad coffee and offering some rather grubby toilets. It is here that those who have chosen to come up on horseback have to leave 5heir steeds. Then more of a climb and finally the path levels out. Now you get some superb views of the monastery. But what is this? A long, zig-zagging flight of steps takes you downwards and across to a waterfall. We stopped to admire it, but also to gain breath as we started the ascent up more steps to the monastery.

Once there, the rules are strict and all cameras, phones etc. have to left at the desk.
The temples are stunning as you’d expect but the views and location are of greater interest, I suspect to the non-Buddhists. So after a quick tour it is back down the steps to the waterfall and back up to the top on the other side. It was these steps that nearly did for Christine, whose legs had all but turned to jelly.

Still, she persevered, and made it back on to the level path, before descending to the cafe where lunch was awaiting us. Not a very wonderful lunch in fairness, but the coffee was still good and we filled up on our own cereal bars and some bananas purloined at breakfast. We continued down and finally got back to the car at 1.45 , 5.25 hours after setting off. We had climbed and descended some 900 metres, so we were quite pleased with ourselves. Of course young Suman has lost count of the number of times he has been up and down!

Mr Numgay then drove us to the oldest Buddhist temple in the country dating from the C7th. Kyichu Lhakhang was built around 659 by King Songsten Gampo of Tibet to pin down the left foot of a witch who was thwarting the establishment of Buddhism in Tibet. He built another temple in Bumthang to deal with her left knee. It is a lovely old temple and adjacent to it has been added a second by the current Queen Mother with a gigantic statue of Buddha. Elderly people keep walking around the temple spinning the prayer wheels. While we were there they were joined by a party of school children.

We drove back to the hotel quite early for a hot shower and to start packing for our journey to India tomorrow. After a wonderful time in Bhutan, another holiday beckons.

A leisurely start with breakfast at 8.00. The restaurant was about half full as a number of Indian groups of 3 or 4 had arrived the day before. The left while we were eating and the waitress came over and asked if we would like to try some pickle with Aloh something, which looked like a roti of some sort. I said yes, and put some pickle on a roti and bit into it. The next thing, my eyes were watering and according to Christine my face had turned a redder shade of scarlet. ‘Hot’ is an inadequate description of that pickle. My equilibrium was restored by some juice followed by coffee.

We drove out of Punakha and along the road to Thimphu stopping again at the crowded restaurant next to the Queen Mother’s 108 stupas where we stopped last time. Neither the view nor the coffee were any better.

We descended to the outskirts of Thimphu and then turned onto the road to Paro. We dropped into the valley of the Paro chu and then stopped off at the Tamchhog Lhakhang. This is an iron footbridge originally made by Thangtong Gyalpon who came to Bhutan in search of iron ore in 1433. He was a true renaissance man as he was not only a smelter, an engineer and a Tibetan saint, but he also wrote folk songs, many of which are still sung today.

The bridge is awaiting repair, but there is a modern one nearby from which one can view it. Obviously it has been much repaired, but some of the original metal links remain in place and it is a remarkable construction.

We reached Paro in time to visit a bank and then go to our least favourite restaurant for lunch. It really is remarkably lacking in atmosphere, as we noted when we visited on our arrival in Bhutan. Still the food wasn’t awful and we didn’t linger.

Mr Numgay went to fetch the car for us, forgetting He had given Sunam the keys. There then followed a French farce as we went one way to the car and he returned to the restaurant another way. A mobile phone call ended it rather abruptly, otherwise it could have gone on for some time!

We drove up to the watchtower above the Paro dzong. Unfort7nately it was damaged by an earthquake in 2011 and is still to open. However the National Museum, which used to be in it, is now in a building behind it. It is well laid out with a room devoted to masks and dance, a room given over to ancient thankas (wall hangings) and a room about Bhutan’s remarkable biodiversity. The latter made us want to come back to sample the wildlife we didn’t see!

The views from the watchtower were magnificent. There is no path down to the dzong, so we had to drive down to it. It was strange entering it again without the crowds at the festival the week before. It is a beautiful set of buildings and we were able to appreciate the two courtyards and the temple without a lot of people. We walked back down, over the bridge to the car and then Mr Numgay took us to our hotel.

This is rather grand, standing up in the hills above the town. It was built in 1974 for guests invited to the coronation of the 4th king. There is a delightful courtyard and pine trees all around. The views aren’t stunning – our room overlooks a poly tunnel – but we have a living room, bedroom and bathroom, all very well appointed. We need a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow we make an assault on the Tiger’s Nest, a 5 hour round trip!

Today, in the Punakha Valley it has been hot – 22C plus – and humid which has made walking rather a sweaty business, but well worthwhile. This is another beautiful valley but in a different way to others. It is highly cultivated and quite densely populated, so it is the numerous terraces and houses that make it attractive.

We woke quite early and looked out on the blackened hillside opposite. Dark streaks run up between still surviving trees and there was still evidence of fires burning near the top.

After a good breakfast we set off for the top end of the valley to climb to the Khamsum Yuelley Namgyal Chorten perched high on a hill on the other side of the river. We crossed on a fairly solid ‘rope’ bridge made of steel and then climbed steadily through fertile terraces past beans, wheat, rice and chillies. The terraces were watered by leafs coming off the stream we were following. The watering system was very cleverly constructed so that every terrace had access to water.

We left the terraces and started to climb steeply along a well worn path through pine woods. The smell was wonderful, but it was getting very warm. On we plodded and eventually came in sight of the chorten. It is fairly new having been completed in 1999. It is 30 metres high and there are stunning views over the valley from the top of txit. It was certainly well worth the climb.

We returned to the car and drove to the Punakha Dzong which is located on a peninsula between two rivers that meet at its southern tip. It’s construction began in 1637 and was completed the following year when it was christened (?!) the ‘Palace of Great Happiness’. It served as the capital and seat of government until the mid 1950s. All of Bhutan’s kings have been crowned there.

Of particular fascination were the bees’ nests which hang down at the front entrance to the dzong. They really are quite remarkable. Unusually there are 3 courtyards. The first is quite large with a Bodhi tree at one end next to a stupa. The second is small and it was here that I missed my step and fell into an Australian woman. She was remarkably understanding considering I must have bruised her! Moral if you want to avoid colliding with Aussies don’t try to take pictures and move forward at the same time.

The third courtyard was bigger and housed the temple. At the southern end is 5he ‘hundred pillar assembly hall’ which is quite spectacular but only has 54 pillars – but hey, who’s counting! On the walls were paintings of the life of Buddha which Sunam went through with us. There are massive gold statues of the Buddha, Guru Rinpoche who foretold 5he building of the dzong and the Zhabdrung who actually built the dzong.

We were pretty exhausted by now and glad to return to the ca4 for the drive into Khuruthang, a rather unappealing little town. We joined other tourists in a smart restaurant and had a good meal and a well earned break.

From there we were taken to a nunnery – an adolescent fantasy, which has arrived rather too late in life! It was in a beautiful location with tremendous views down the main valley and one of its tributaries. The nunnery was built by the father-in-law of the fourth king (he married 4 sisters and died young) who now lives in a very smart bungalow opposite it. It seemed an idyllic setting for the young nuns who were busy at prayers and making clay statues in the pleasant grounds.

We drove back down the winding road for our last visit of the day – the fertility temple. Sunam promised a fairly easy walk, but as we climbed past gift shops selling all sorts of phalluses it was turning into quite a stiff one! Again we walked through terraces and past a couple of bulls that showed little interest in us, but bellowed alarmingly at each other. The path up to the temple gate was lined with mimosa, oleander and caster oil plants. In the front of the temple was a large Bodhi tree. Inside the small courtyard two wizened people sat turning the enormous prayer wheels and clicking their rosaries.

The temple was established by Lama Drukpa Kunley, aka ‘the divine madman’ who lived between 1455 – 1529. He was born in Tibet and sought enlightenment through wine, women and song. He taught profound truths through humour and outrageous behaviour, breaking many of the Buddhist conventions of the time. His sexual exploits were legendary and this is why phalluses adorn many buildings. They are there to protect fertility in the house, but also to symbolise ‘the discomfort that society feels when confronted with the truth’. He sounds like my sort of guy!

Inside the temple there was a ceremony taking place with cymbals, chant8ng and horn blowing. The horns are shaped like – well you can guess – complete with two gonad shaped pieces at the end. Let your imagination roam. The temple is in a beautiful spot and a cooling breeze blew down the valley reducing the humidity.

Nevertheless we were glad to return back through the fields to the car. We stopped briefly at the local market and inspected the vegetables, some of which we couldn’t identify without Sunam and Mr Numgay’s help. Back at the hotel, other guests have arrived, from India, by the look of them. This should make dinner a more lively occasion at least. Christine is now going for a massage and I am going to try a bath. It has been a very good, but tiring day. Tomorrow we return to Paro. How time flies!

A driving day today along the road back to Punakha, a road described in the ‘lonely planet’ guide as ‘interesting and easy’. Interesting it certainly is, easy it ain’t.

We were sorry to leave our beautiful hotel this morning with its delicious food, most of it homemade and / or local. The view down the valley was obscured by mist, but as we drove up the valley side we came into brilliant sunshine with the mist lying in the valley below. At the stupa at the top of the pass a couple of beautiful ponies were grazing in the sunshine.

The road was fairly clear, but, as before we bounced from pothole to pothole, Mr Numgay, taking it very easy, but still giving our internal organs a thorough massage. We passed through beautiful villages with stunning views of the mountains and the rivers down below. We stopped briefly at the top of the second pass and then headed down into Trongsa, where we’d stopped for lunch before. Too early this time, although it was nearly 12.00. We stopped briefly to use a toilet and watch a monkey being chased away by women with brooms.

Onwards we went, the road becoming even worse, with a lot of heavy machinery working in places. We came to a stop when a JCB type digger completely blocked our way and watched fascinated as two men (one of them little more than a boy) rammed explosives into holes drilled in the rock face and attached the red fuse. It looked highly unsafe, but there it was. Eventually he made room and let us pass.

We were very glad when eventually we pulled off the road into a small hotel and restaurant where we were booked in for lunch. We entered through the back room, which is clearly where the locals eat. Off to our left was a general store which sold everything from prayer flags to shampoo, from biscuits to nails. We were shown through a curtain to a very nice rustic dining room with a wood stove and fine views. Coffee was served and then a succession of dishes arrived. Rice, noodles, cabbage, shiitake mushrooms and tomatoes came in that order, the latter two dishes being particularly delicious. There is no doubt that the vegetables in Bhutan and the way they prepare them, beats anything we can do back home!

Which brings me to the delicate subject of the phallus, which abounds and was brightly painted on the outside of the restaurant. It protects the place and the people in it from harm and ensures it is blessed. It is still rather strange to see, particularly with a ribbon around it and clearly ejaculating. I used to tell boys off for drawing these in their notebooks and here they adorn the walls of houses!

Further on, the road got better as we neared the top of the pass. We stopped to take pictures and I asked if we could walk for a bit. Mr Numgay said he would meet us at the top. We ended up walking over a mile uphill! The views were fantastic and we were glad to stretch our legs, we just hadn’t bargained on such a long walk in the sun. When we reached the summit Suman and Mr Numgay were browsing the stalls of the yak herders which cluster at such places. I was tempted to buy a yak wool belt for £3.00 woven on a hand loom. The woman who made it was spinning using a distaff and was very pleased to be photographed.

Now we were steadily descending in tight bends from 3,420 metres to 1,300 at Punakha. The views were wonderful, but the road varied between excellent to bone-grinding. You never knew what lay around the next bend. Even on a tarmac stretch you might find piles of stones or sand blocking one half of the carriageway.

As we dropped the temperature rose and paddy fields became more evident. Eventually we reached the river at Wangdue Phodrang. We stopped to take pictures of the bridge and the dzong on the hill above. A beautiful building built in 1638 it unfortunately burnt down in 2012.Since then there has been a national effort to get it rebuilt, with people offering money or labour. The town of Wagdue Phodrang is a new town and looks very unprepossessing.

It was now clear that the hillside above it and beyond was on fire. I thought I had seen smoke on the horizon earlier, and now it was clear that there was a major forest fire in progress. It has apparently been raging for about 36 hours and shows little sign of abating.

We turned off the road and up a steep slope to our hotel. Apparently Suman was due to take us to another one, but the local agent was unhappy with what they were offering so booked us in to this one. Bizarrely, this is the hotel we were expecting to go to. It is wonderful. We have a suite with a sitting area, large bed, and a gigantic bathroom complete with a stand alone bath of a Victorian design. Our balcony extends across the front of this suite, giving us unrivalled views of the inferno on the hills opposite as well as the corrugated iron workshop directly below. This really is the most amazing country as nothing seems predictable – we love it.

Let us hope that it rains tonight so that the fires go out. There seems little else can be done as access to the hillside is very limited.

Addendum:

Thinking of things unpredicted, I didn’t mention last night. At 6.30 the four of us set off to Chamkahr to get Christine’s jacket from the tailor. However we drove through the town and along the far bank of the river. We had been asking after a berry which the hotel used to make jam, called ‘sea buckthorn’. We hadn’t heard of it and as we are a long way from the sea, we wondered how they got it. Suman and Mr Numgay were on a mission to show us it. We parked on the road in the gathering gloom and walked along the top of the river wall. Suddenly they ran off and dived down an area of loose stone down to the dry river course and an island which clearly floods during the monsoon. Suman had the phone on his torch, but otherwise they were now working in total darkness. We stood on top of the wall and watched for the occasional flash of Susan’s torch. They went further and further away until we could no longer make out where they were. Suddenly they reappeared crashing through the bushes below us exuberantly brandishing some twigs with orange berries. You can see a picture below and read all about it on Wikipedia if you need to know more.

Now full of excitement at having achieved their quest we went back to the tailor where the jacket was waiting and proved a pretty good fit. The tailor was also back after his lunch, liquid or otherwise, and apparently none the worse for wear. Christine will be modelling said jacket on her return to the U.K. while I on the other hand will not be making sea buckthorn jam!

Sorry no pictures. Internet here is very poor.

A less hectic day today. We agreed that the journey to the Ura Valley, that was on our itinerary was rather silly – 2.5 hours drive there and the same back, particularly as we have a full day’s driving tomorrow. Instead we went to the beautiful Tang Valley to se the Burning Lake. This is really a pool in a fast flowing river, but is a very sacred spot for Buddhists. The Guru Pema Lingpa dived naked into the pool and brought out a treasure box. The penlop or local governor heard about this and accused him of trickery. To prove himself he dived in with a burning lamp, proclaiming that he would return with the lamp still lit or die in the water. Needless to say he returned with the lamp still lit and holding a statue and a treasure chest. The lake became known as Membartsho (Burning Lake).

It is a beautiful place where people leave mini-stupas to ask for good health. We walked back to the car park and saw some white-throated magpies – although it is their bellies that are white.

From there we walked up through the pine forests and meadows to the nunnery at the top of the hill. It is called a ‘higher nunnery’ but only because it takes senior girls for training. The views were spectacular with snow topped mountains in the distance. The air was clear and smelled of pine. We climbed higher and higher crossing the hairpin bends in the road. At last the nunnery was in sight with its green prayer banners fluttering in the breeze.

We entered the courtyard where some girls were preparing some sort of gooseberry. They were taking out the large seeds which are used to make a paste. I didn’t fully understand the explanation, but apparently the paste is used as a glue. Inside the temple we saw the trumpets, drums and bells used in rituals. The nuns sit on padded seats on the floor in front of low benches on which they place their scripture books and instruments. The temple had windows on both sides so was very light unlike many temples we had been in.

From here we walked out to a hill top between lines of prayer flags for a splendid view of the distant mountains. We then drove back into town for an early lunch. We were taken to a local restaurant where we were the only diners, but the food was excellent. We had rice with sweet corn, potatoes, carrots with ginger, a sort of scrambled egg, tomato mixture and cauliflower tempura. It was utterly delicious and we probably ate too much.

After lunch we walked around the town while Sunam tried to find us a good exchange rate. We went in search of a book shop Christine thought she had seen, but it was not to be found. We did manage to buy some postage stamps and Christine found a shop selling cupcakes of all things. No one seemed to be serving, indeed no one was anywhere to be seen. In the end we found the owner next door and she sold us probably two of the most disgusting cupcakes I have ever eaten. On the other hand at 30pence each, they were also two of the cheapest. The shopkeeper did explain that she had not made them and she was going on a cupcake course to learn the techniques at the end of April . Let us hope her teacher is not the woman who made these ones.

In the end, Sunam could find no shop offering a good exchange rate so we settled for the local bank. The steps up to the first floor where the bank was situated were unbelievably steep and would have deterred any thieves. This was probably just as well as the cashier sat with an open tray full of bank notes by his side in an open wooden booth. There was no apparent security other than the hope that any thief would break his neck running down the steps.

The sky by now had darkened and ominous rolls of thunder suggested another afternoon storm was coming. Large drops spattered the ground, but it was very short lived. We drove to the Swiss cheese factory. A Swiss, Fritz Maurer opened a cheese factory as a development project and then added a brewery making Red Panda beer. The latter is excellent and I enjoyed a pint last night. It is a Weiss beer and unfiltered, but full of flavour. The cheeses made are emmental and Gouda in type, neither of them anything special. The visit was also unremarkable as visitors are only allowed in when cheese is not being made. We admired the milk separator, the butter churn, the cheese presses and the water heaters. We entered the cheese stores and looked at the cheeses. The cheeses looked back in that rather uninterested way that maturing cheese has. We left them to it and went back to the shop to taste their maturer relatives. We went back to the town. Exciting it wasn’t.

We decided to visit the tailor to pick up Christine’s jacket. On entering the shop we were greeted by two younger men. When asked for the jacket they assured us that the tailor had said he would do it after lunch, but unfortunately he had not come back after lunch, so the material remained uncut and unstitched. One of the young men said he would get start on it straight away and it would be ready by 19.00. We shall see.

We returned to our hotel and relaxed (well slept if you must know). Tomorrow could be a very long day. Mr Numgay informed us that yesterday, rain had caused a landslide on the road back to Punakha and some cars had waited for 7 hours before it was cleared. I should imagine they ran out of objects to play I spy with……..let’s face it, after tree and rock there isn’t much else.

After the rigours of yesterday’s journey we arrived at this beautiful, comfortable hotel. There was a blazing log fire in the stove and dinner was served in our room as some monks had taken over the dining room as they were celebrating the full moon. We celebrated our safe arrival and had an early night. I awoke about 1.30 to hear something scrabbling in the room. I hoped it wasn’t what I thought it might be, but woke Christine just in case. We scoured the room, but could find nothing, so I turned over and went back to sleep. Poor Christine didn’t, however, for some considerable time!

We woke in the morning and looked out from our bedroom window over the most spectacular view of the Chamkhar Valley. The whole area was bathed in sunlight, and when we went out onto the balcony the air tasted clean and smelt of woodsmoke and pine.

Breakfast was delicious with homemade yoghurt, fried eggs, some tasty bread and homemade strawberry jam and local honey. They also brought us some eggs in a basket with flowers and some scone-like bread. Unfortunately we could not follow what our waitress was saying, but we think it may have been done in recognition of our Easter.

Today was a temple day and very interesting, but I must confess we are getting a bit tempted out! However we are learning a lot about Buddhism which is quite a complex religion with a great number of deities, gurus and manifestations of Buddha.

Our first stop was the Jakar (White Bird) dzong on the hilltop above the town. It was built in 1667 on a site identified as auspicious by lamas in 1549 when a white bird settled on the hilltop. You climb up a steep path and enter a gateway and through into a narrow courtyard where the monastic offices are. Walking through this you come to the temple which unusually is on the east side of the next courtyard. It is very impressive. It being a Sunday we could also visit the administrative offices at the west end of the dzong.

We left there and drove a short distance to Jampey Lhakhang a beautiful temple dating from 659. The Tibetan king who founded it, founded 108 temples on the same day, including one in Paro, to pin down a witch who was causing trouble in the Himalayan region. This temple pinned down her left knee. The inner sanctum is the oldest part of the oldest temple in Bhutan and is very atmospheric.

From there we strolled through farmland, past farmhouses and buildings to give shelter to farmers keeping wild animals off their crops. Some of the field# contained cattle or horses, and sometimes they completely failed to contain them and they grazed on the track. The fields are fenced with wooden rails and freshly cut wood is piled up to be seasoned as timber or for firewood. The sun shone and we crossed a gurgling brook that winked in the sunlight.

We were now approaching the large temple complex of Kurjey Lhakhang named after the print (kur) of the body (jey) of Guru Rinpoche which is preserved in a cave inside the oldest of the three temples. Unfortunately it was closed, but we visited the other two. At the first, built in 1994, was a wall pointing of the dharma or wheel of life, so Sunam took the opportunity of explaining it all to us. It was really interesting with some aspects not entirely different from our own faith. Inside the second temple is an enormous statue of Guru Rinpoche, 10 metres high. We could not get into the third temple built in 1652, but noted the carving of the garuda attacking the snow lion near the roof line. This represents the Guru Rinpoche attacking a local demon.

We passed through a gateway and walked down through meadows to the river, over which hung a flag-lined suspension footbridge. We swayed across its planked surface, catching glimpses of the rushing torrent below. The only thing spoiling the tranquility of the scene was the Japanese digger moving boulders in the riverbed to our left as a new road bridge is being constructed. Bhutan is restless with development!

We walked on to another temple, the Tamshing Goemba which was very dark and again dominated by a statue of Guru Rinpoche. The statue was sculpted by the khandromas or female deities. Mr Numgay was there to meet us and whisked us back to our hotel for a much needed lunch.

The afternoon brought yet another temple visit, with stunning views over the town. I won’t go into details about the temple, as to be honest, it has rather blurred with the others, but don’t tell Sunam! As we arrived dark clouds were gathering in the north and large drops of rain spatter3d around us. We walked back down some steep steps to the little town of Chamkhar, Christine enveloped in a large white poncho which made her look like an inflated ghost! We walked through the town, looking at the shops. Sunam was anxious that we should not get wet, but we persevered. We visited the vegetable market and again tried to identify a range of unusual veg. and fruit. Then Christine found a tailor and immediately started negotiating, with Sunam’s help, the making of a jacket within 24 hours. The tailor agreed, so then we had to find some suitable material. The third shop had just the material she wanted at £12 for a jacket’s worth. So it was back to the tailor where we had to spend some time locating his tape measure. Once found he then decided that a jacket he was already making was Christine’s size and indeed it was. Having now got a template he assured us it would be ready in 24 hours for the staggering price of about £2.50!

We walked back through heavy drops of rain to the hotel, pausing briefly to watch some monks playing football. Now we are sitting by our log stove, contemplating a good dinner in an hour’s time. Dusk gathers outside, occasionally the lights go out, and the temperature is falling, but as long as there is nothing else sharing our room we don’t care!