Goen Tschephu with Phub
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| The incredibly photogenic Punakha Dzong |
I presented myself for an early Sunday
breakfast with a request for chilli in my fried rice!
Our Southern Bhutanese neighbour, Prakash
fronted in his taxi at the appointed time! He was a very slow driver, but at least was not heart attack
material. En route I received a
couple of calls from Phub to inquire about my progress and I sent her a series
of text messages after that.
We drove to Punakha and paused for me to
photograph the dzong – yet again!
Then followed the Mo Chhu up its scenic valley along a windy and rough
road that showed more evidence of having been paved in some places than in
others.
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| Just a lovely photo opportunity |
At one point not far out of Punakha, we
drove past a very large Chorten of Nepali style and I remarked upon its newness
– I certainly did not remember it from the previous excursion up this
valley. I was correct, it is new,
but then or subsequently could not find out about its significance.
There are some lovely scenes during the
drive, and as it is the dry season the river is well behaved and fairly
sedate. And stunningly beautiful.
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| My dear friend Phub |
Prakash had many questions for me and spent
much time sharing his points of view on the way, including lecturing me about
“life in blood” moving from blood transfusions to the blood of Christ. I am still a bit unsure about how that transition
happened. I provided a series of
non-committal responses to most of his little speeches but did have to tell him
everyone was entitled to their opinions but I could not agree with him that
Trump is a good politician and leader!!
1.5 hours later we arrived at the sign for
Goen Shari Gewog and Phub was standing on the roadside ready to greet me. It was SOOO good to see her and I
greeted her and her young son Zimba with enthusiasm. She introduced me to her friend Narwang who was to be our
driver – the vehicle being a very suitable Bolero, provided courtesy of the
Gup.
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| And the road is cleared of the tree |
I had told Prakash our plans and that we
would be 4 hours or so, but back at Lobesa by 6. We exchanged phone numbers in the traditional Bhutanese
manner – I entered his phone number and gave him a missed call. He also asked Phub to call him when we
were an hour away.
I stopped to admire the river valley here –
the river is just beautiful and the area exudes peace, though Phub informs me
that the dogs capably interrupt that all night. Surprise.
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| A trail of caterpillars |
Our destination is Goen Tshephu, a sacred
place high above Phub’s village, accessed by a narrow rough road that zig zags
its way up a precipitous mountain side through mixed forest with some
Rhododendron (Etho Metho)
undergrowth (undergrowth being a
loose word to include anything that is not absolute canopy, some of these
rhododendrons are huge trees) with fabulous red flowers. Her son accompanies us and has a little
more English than previously. I
still find him a delightful and affectionate little boy, although he has a
cough that is making him feel a bit miserable. Something he exchanged with his younger brother in return
for his chicken pox!
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| A mani wall in the middle of the road |
Our progress up this route came to a halt for a BST 10 minutes – an hour or more – as a few men with a
large chain saw attached a tree, which had fallen across the road. With many counts to 3 and much heaving,
ridiculously large sections of tree were moved to one side or the other and
enough space created for a vehicle to squeeze through with a hairs’ breadth to
spare. Moments before the
declaration that we could move through, Phub and I had decided that we needed to
walk down the road to find a version of Zangmo’s 5 star roadside conveniences so we missed the squeezing through of the vehicles and
just sauntered through the tree cutting work to resume our journey.
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| Awesome views |
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| Zimba's Christmas Mountains! |
We’d spent the delay just enjoying each
other’s company and I’d excavated a couple of small gifts for Zimba. I also excavated my insect repellant as
I’d quickly acquired 3 bites and Zimba had one that was starting to swell. I coated us both liberally and
subsequently gave the rest to Phub after she remarked that it had certainly
worked well for Zimba - she had
warned me about the insects in the Jigme Dorji National Park forest. One of my gifts to her is an insect
screen door – which she could also choose to cut up and use to insect screen some
windows in the house. I’d found a
similar one invaluable in Kheni.
Around another half hour later we reached
the end of the road and took the short walk to just below our destination. The place is a small temple and has a
couple of locations where Guru Rinpoche meditated but is considered
particularly important as it was here where he acquired eternal life and from
one of his meditation caves the spring of long life emerges.
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| Tea break with Phub and Zimba in front of the Goempa |
The spring has been beautifully and neatly
contained and its flow is now conveniently controlled by a neat piece of
plumbing which does not reduce its sacred nature. We did, of course, drink from the spring of long life.
Before proceeding to the sacred places we
sat beneath the prayer flags, on the grass, and enjoyed a cup of tea with zao
(roasted rice added to tea) and biscuits.
I also enjoyed the stunning view.
We had ascended to only a little over 2,400 metres but all around us
were higher hills and beyond them, snow capped mountain peaks that evidently
were perma-snow with glaciers. Or
“Christmas Mountains” as dear little Zimba called them.
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| A local pilgrim pretending not to pose |
Having finished our tea, Phub said it was
time for me to don my Kira and recalled my calling this my “Lady Jane”
performance. I put on my kira and
taego over my shirt and trousers, much to the amusement of some of the other
visitors to that place.
After this we proceeded to the butter lamp
house and made our offerings. I
had purchased 1kg of the “butter” for butter lamps and a packet of
incense. I subsequently noted that
the “butter” was made substantially from palm oil and wondered if this were
always the case. Phub also had
some butter and incense and we handed these offerings over to the custodian of
the butter lamp house and were invited to light butter lamps – 3 being the identified
number.
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| With Zimba in front of the caves |
I lit butter lamps with thoughts and
silent prayers for friends back home in less than perfect health. Phub said we should give some money and
I quietly asked her how much – I do need this guidance. Evidently much less is expected than at
the places that receive more tourists!
100Nu each was plenty for the 2 medium sized and one very large lamp I
lit. We were given the holy water
holder and the peacock feather to sprinkle a little holy water on the candles
we had lit and then a little of the holy water was tipped into a hand for
consumption and blessing.
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| Sacred rock paintings |
We climbed the steps towards the small
temple. The monks had not long
finished performing rituals and there was a substantial amount of food being
consumed and we were invited by the lama to have lunch, which we did. Sitting in the sun in my double layer
of clothing was probably not the most comfortable; I had assumed that the
double layer would only be for a short time and in cool areas.
After lunch we went to the small temple to
make offerings and prayers and then to each of the caves in which Guru RInpoche
had meditated to make further offerings.
These had within them small spaces through which one could crawl to earn
merit, and in the second cave, Zimba did crawl – being delightfully small
enough to do so with comfort.
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| more sacred rock paintings |
We proceeded to the base of a small peak
upon which the Dakini’s or fairies were said to have prepared food for Guru
Rinpoche and upon which was the imprint of their oven. As the access to this was partly by a
very steep “ladder” and partly by a tangle of tree routes I certainly was not
keen to face that challenge, and none other of our party did so.
We returned to the grassy area and I
resumed my base level clothing, and we thanked the monk who had shown us the
small temple and made our way back down to the vehicle.
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| Zimba measures Guru Rinpoche's handprint |
Phub asked if she should call my taxi
driver but I suggested it would take at least an hour to get down to the
village and she had said she wanted to show me the school and take me to her
house to visit her youngest son – I had been the first non-family member to
hold him 3 days after his birth.
We picked up some hitch hikers on the way –
at first 3 who rode in the tray of the Bolero to an intersection to another
village and then a lady with a baby who got into the back of the cab with Phub
and Zimba.
We arrived back at the village just as my
taxi pulled up – it seems he had elected to go back to Lobesa and return rather
than wait for me. I told him
we were still to visit a couple of places and we went to the school.
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| The Dakini's oven tops this rock |
A delightfully small primary school – only
60 children across the 7 classes, but there is pressure from the ministry for
it to close. Community resistance
is strong, as it is the only school in the Gewog. However, about 45 of the children are informal boarders –
they stay near the school in temporary accommodation. Some have grandparents to look after them but others look
after themselves. There is no
electricity supply to these residences, although Phub thought there was an
outdoor tap. It would certainly be
safer and better for them to be in proper, superised boarding facilities at the
Central School.
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| The view from one of Guru Rinpoche's meditation spots |
I met some of her colleagues and one was
transforming Phub’s reading corner from the previous year into a little cubby
house, with the aid of some amateur carpentry skills. No doubt the students will be entranced.
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| Me in one of Guru Rinpoche's meditation places |
We walked down the road (and up the hill)
to her house so I could greet her mother and her youngest son. He was born while I was teaching at
Kheni and I was the first outside the family to hold him as an infant – a
special privilege!
A quick cup of coffee and it was time to
leave, if I did not want to travel in the dark. Phone reception is poor there so we had to walk back to
where the taxi was parked.
I was quite glad to eventually get back to
my hotel room, although there had been a couple of interesting diversions on
the return journey to inspect Punakha Dzong from the other side and to drive
through Kurithang town.
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| Rhodedendron in flower |
Prakesh had also diverted for a couple of
errands at local shops, including the intent to purchase fresh chicken from the
meat shop. I am assuming that this
meant freshly frozen chicken as I believe that all meat still comes from
India! The shop, however, was
closed; my best guess is that on the first day after the end of “no meat month”
it had sold out!
As he dropped me at the hotel, he expressed
his intent to go through to Bajo for shopping (to get meat!) and did I want to
go. I had no need or desire to
visit this new, neatly laid out, town and I was ready to rest, so declined his
kind offer.
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| Phub's younger son and her mother |
It had been wonderful to see Phub again
after all this time. Though I
could have done without coming back from the visit with a souvenir of 3 insect
bites – 2 of them developed into a major allergic reaction.
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