The Queen Mother and monks in passing

Some monks in orange prison garb wander by. Wait, that’s not right. (Their robes are actually a gorgeous orange). We’ve been sitting in the airport for a while now, waiting for the plane to Bumthang, only to find out that that it’s cancelled, probably for the next few days.

the Dzong at Paro

We had lunch earlier, near the Paro Dzong: an imposing sight even from a distance.

still life with Dzong, Chortan, Alter...and students

Much discussion about Plan B ensues, an intricate necklace of connections and hotel reservations and festivals and plane flights suddenly laid to waste by the early monsoon and a drizzle on the runway. Already tired, we finally opt for a 4 hour bus ride to Punakha.

Reconstructed suspension bridge out of centuries old iron chain. Mysteriously, the stuff doesn't rust.

Just before dusk we reach Dochula La for tea and cookies as the clouds moved in and the Queen Mother drives by in a low-key entourage. The 108 chortan commemorating 10 deaths in the Assam uprising of the early 2000s were her daughter-in-law the Queen’s project.

108 Chortans at Dochula La

The road down off the pass is a treachery in the dark, all mud and construction and barely one lane, but our driver is unfazed and finally I fall asleep. Then I fall off my chair. My spine feels well-exercised by the time we get to the hotel, where dinner awaits and a fine room and finally, finally some sleep.

The Queen Mother and monks in passing

Paro, Bhutan