Finding spectacular scenery and a sense of simplicity on a solo trip to Bhutan

by Rita Bocher; Wynnewood, PA

Friends asked me why I was going alone to Bhutan. My answer was simple: “It’s going to be 21 hours in the air over two days, and I couldn’t find anyone else who was interested.” However, I don’t mind traveling by myself. Although I knew I would miss the pleasure of sharing each day’s experiences with someone or enjoying a meal in company, the excitement of going to a place as undiscovered as Bhutan was worth any minor inconveniences. Also, I would be gone only a total of 10 days and I figured I could handle that.

Getting there

Since Bangkok, Thailand, is one of the air-access points for Bhutan, I opted for that entry point, staying a couple of days in the city to help me adjust to the 10-hour time difference. I did not want to have to adjust to Bhutan’s high altitude and the time difference at the same time.

My airfare from Philadelphia International Airport to Bangkok was $1,443. From Bangkok, the Drukair flight to Paro, Bhutan, cost an additional $896. I also purchased travel insurance ($301), which covered the air and the trip.

Daily touring rates in Bhutan are set by the government. As I was traveling by myself, my cost was $240 per day for six days. That included airport transfers; all meals; a vehicle with driver and English-speaking guide; monument entry fees, and accommodations. The daily fee would have been less if others were in my party.

The total for the trip, including my stay in Bangkok, was $4,080.

I booked the Bangkok portion of my October ’11 trip through Higgins Travel Leaders (Eau Claire, WI; 800/274-7790), dealing directly with Joan Lorenz, with whom I had arranged several other trips.

For the Bhutan portion, I went online to check the costs available from several travel agencies. I settled on Yetis & Dragons (phone, from the US, 888/939-8808), which is located in Bhutan, sending funds by wire transfer.

Beginning in Bangkok

My stay in Bangkok was at the Royal River Hotel, a beautiful facility on the Chao Phraya River, the main waterway of the city. My large room had a king-sized bed, a large bath and a balcony with a lovely view of the river and city.

The hotel offered a complimentary boat ride at 9 a.m.; unfortunately, I did not have a chance to take it, as I had previously scheduled morning activities.

On my first morning in Bangkok, the bell captain was helpful in getting me a cab to Pratunam Market.

“Get price ahead of time,” he cautioned. “Otherwise, they’ll put you on the meter and you’ll drive all around the city.”

He negotiated a price of 150 baht, about $5 at the time of my visit.

As not too many Thais speak English, he also gave me a card showing the name and address of the hotel in Thai, along with a map of its location. I have found this small service indispensable in countries where I do not know the language.

The market was the usual labyrinth of alleyways and stalls, where bargaining was the order of the day. The goods offered seemed to be mainly clothing, so I did not stay long.

To get to my next destination, the Jim Thompson House & Museum (6 Soi Kasemsan 2, Rama 1 Rd.), I took a tuk-tuk, one of the 3-wheeled open cabs. One definitely must negotiate a price ahead of time.

My driver made me a deal: if I would stop at two jewelry shops, at which I just had to take a tour but not buy anything, he would charge me just 20 baht (about 65¢) to take me nearly across the city to my destination. The compensation for him was that he would receive gas coupons when he dropped me off at the designated shops. That coupon was worth more to him, apparently, than what he would get from me. I took the offer.

So off we went at a dizzying pace in this flimsy little vehicle, which he somehow miraculously managed to slip in between two lanes of ruthlessly racing traffic. And, no, I did not buy anything at the jewelry shops, which were crowded with customers who also had gotten there, no doubt, via other enterprising cab drivers.

Museum visit

Jim Thompson was an American architect who had gone to Thailand during World War II. He is given credit for reviving the Thai silk industry in the 1950s. During a trip to Malaysia in 1967, he disappeared without a trace after a walk in the jungle; he was 61.

The Jim Thompson House comprises six teak houses from elsewhere which Thompson relocated and joined together. An avid collector, he exquisitely furnished the property with antiques acquired on his travels in Asia.

Admission to the museum is 100 baht (about $3). After an initial orientation to the house, visitors must take off their shoes to walk on the polished teak floors; the guides and guards also are barefoot.

A pretty, young tour guide led the tour in English, but tours in other languages were offered as well. Visitors must join a tour, but time is given at the end for a bit of independent exploration and to take photos.

I had lunch in the museum’s very nice restaurant. My choice was a chili dish with pork and pineapple which the waitress assured me was mild. Fortunately, I took her advice to order steamed white rice and a large bottle of water, both of which were sorely needed to cool the fire of the dish.

The adjoining gift shop had lovely but pricey Thai silk items. No bargaining there!

When I went looking for a cab to get back to my hotel, I found one of those ubiquitous tuk-tuks. The driver wanted 200 baht for the trip, but when I told him I had paid only 20 baht for my previous ride, he made me a deal. If I would agree to stop at three shops, where I did not have to buy anything, he would give me the ride for free. And so he did.

The Palace and the Paragon

I had also arranged a tour to Bangkok’s Grand Palace, including a chance to see the Emerald Buddha. My visit was on a Sunday.

The Grand Palace grounds, which also house the magnificent central shrine, are surrounded by a mile-long wall. Within the complex there are about 100 ornate gilded and mosaic-encrusted buildings, spires and pagodas.

The Temple of the Emerald Buddha was crowded, but I understand that it is always like that, not just on Sundays. Prayers were being chanted through a loudspeaker, and people carried lotuses, a sacred flower, some dipping the flowers in water and sprinkling themselves or others.

Visitors must take off their shoes to enter the temple, storing them on a rack outside. The statue of the Buddha, which is not actually emerald but a vivid green jadeite, is clothed in garments that are changed seasonally by the king. (Now, because of his advanced age, this is done by his son.)

At the end of my morning visit, my guide dropped me off at one of Bangkok’s fabulous vertical malls, the Siam Paragon, containing an unbelievable array of moderate to upscale shops with goods ranging from electronics to fashion and exquisite home decor. Its on-site supermarket would rival any in the United States, with marvelously fresh produce creatively arranged.

The food court’s variety of stalls featured products that looked absolutely fresh and inviting. I settled on a vegetable stir fry which was certainly one of the best I’ve ever had.

Two days in Bangkok does not give one much of a chance to savor that sprawling city, but I would recommend the two sites I visited.

On to Bhutan

Monday morning I was up at 2 a.m. The hotel dining room opened for me and I was able to get a breakfast of cereal, fruit, Danish and coffee before leaving for the airport to catch a 6:00 flight to Bhutan.

One of the most exciting moments of my trip was the flight into Bhutan’s international airport in Paro. Paro sits in a valley between 16,000-foot-high forested cliffs, and the entry to the city is through, what seemed to me, a very narrow passage. At the opening to the valley, the plane banked and made a distinct 90-degree turn into the Paro Valley. Breathtaking!

Though the city is at an altitude of about 7,300 feet, I happily had no obvious ill effects from the altitude — or at any of the other higher elevations I visited during the week — but I did find myself out of breath from time to time.

Bhutan’s architecture is distinctive and colorful. The facades of the houses are decorated in a style that reminded me of a Swiss chalet, though my guide said the style was from 17th-century Tibet.

Paro has the charm of a small town, with its nicely tended houses and clean streets. Shops are small, and there even was a shoemaker sitting on the floor making shoes in one of the shops. The “general store” had everything from groceries to household goods and souvenirs.

Along the outside walls of most store facades are prayer wheels, which the faithful spin as they walk by. I was told one spins the wheel clockwise with the right hand.

Most of the people wear traditional dress, the gho for men and the kira for women. The gho is a knee-length garment which is belted at the waist; it is worn with knee-high socks. The kira is a long skirt which is wrapped around the waist and worn with a toego, a short jacket, on top, which is fastened with a pin.

This traditional dress was most apparent in the villages and at the festivals, and I was told that traditional dress is required in the workplace. In contrast, in the capital of Thimphu, young people more frequently were in jeans and T-shirts.

Paro

My guide and driver, both in traditional dress, were in their mid twenties. During my first day, we visited an archery competition (archery is the national sport) and a dzong, or fortress monastery. At the dzong, in addition to adult monks there were lots of little boys in training, some as young as about six years old. These youngsters acted like children the world over, playing and cavorting.

In Paro I stayed at Tenzinling Resort, a nice, budget-level facility, on my first night. The staff were friendly, but at meals in the dining room I was always seated by myself. I moved to my next hotel, Ugyen Phendeyling Resort & Meditation Center, on the second day. The complex comprised about eight or nine buildings painted bright red-orange and separated by flowered walkways.

After settling in, my guide, driver and I went to conquer the vertical trek to the Tiger’s Nest, or Tak­tsang Palphug Monastery, which is perched in a seemingly impossible niche on the side of a cliff nearly 3,000 feet above the valley floor.

I had not quite adjusted to the altitude (10,000 feet) as well as I thought I had and found I could trek up only as far as the “teahouse,” a restaurant/stopping point which I want to believe was about three-quarters of the way up. I chatted with some Americans there who also were resting and partaking of the free tea and crackers offered.

In the afternoon, we went to a seventh-century monastery where a prayer service was in progress. Monks were seated on the floor in a half circle in front of a statue of the Buddha, which was surrounded by flowers, butter cakes and butter lamps.

I took my place on the floor with some other visitors behind a young monk playing a clarinet-like instrument while an older monk sounded a gong. I stayed awhile, enjoying the serenity.

I never did discover what the resort’s “Meditation Center” was, but at night I was grateful for the electric heater near my bed. My wake-up call the next morning was a knock on the door by one of the young staff members, as the room’s telephone didn’t work.

Mountains and monasteries

It is difficult to describe how steeply mountainous Bhutan is. Many routes we took were on single-lane, unpaved roads with two-way traffic, which, at times, was heavy. Cars and small trucks carefully slid by each other.

Sometimes the roads were primarily a series of hairpin turns so winding that extensive travel on them made me slightly dizzy. The most modern road on which we traveled was the one from Paro to Thimphu, which had been widened and paved in 2008 for the new king’s coronation.

Leaving Paro, we were off to Punakha and Wangdue Phodrang. On the way, we stopped at Dochula Pass where, in 2003, 108 white-and-gold chortens, or stupas, were erected in honor of the successful victory over Indian rebels during their intrusion into Bhutan.

Thousands of strings of small prayer flags fluttered around the area, each flag a prayer for the forgiveness of one’s sins. Thanks to the thoughtfulness of my guide, I, too, now have a string of prayer flags there, tied to a bush close by.

Punakha Dzong, situated at the confluence of the Mo Chhu and Pho Chhu rivers, is a spectacular fortress monastery with ornate gold decorations. In its temple, there were gold thrones for the lama and the king, and colorful flags in bright primary colors were strung along the balconies of the courtyard.

On the patio, a large group of young girls was practicing a dance for the upcoming wedding of the king, which was to take place at the dzong the following week.

In Punakha, we also stopped at a “fertility” monastery and temple, where women who cannot get pregnant go. The path to the monastery goes through a field of red rice, where a large prayer wheel is turned by water pouring out of a pipe that also serves to irrigate the rice fields.

For lunch we stopped at a restaurant on Dochula Pass, at about 10,000 feet. Several tourist groups were there, which was understandable, as the scenery was breathtakingly beautiful.

To Thimphu

That evening we pulled into one of the many new guest houses springing up in the countryside in anticipation of an expected increase in tourism. Everything was new, the towels had obviously never been washed, labels were still stuck on the bathroom fixtures, and the lovely white-and-gold china service from which the proprietor offered a welcoming cup of tea probably had seen no prior usage.

The small balcony off my bedroom opened onto another spectacular view.

Helped by her two shy daughters, the owner was a warm, cheerful woman. Dinner was simple but plentiful. She proudly told me that the red rice served had been grown in her fields, as had all the steamed vegetables she served. The chicken had been from her own poultry stock and the fish had been taken out of a nearby stream. The milk for the tea was from her cows.

The next day we drove on to Wangdue Phodrang Dzong, built on a promontory overlooking a river, before continuing on to the capital, Thimphu.

Thimphu is a busy, vibrant city with plenty of traffic but no traffic lights. (As a matter of fact, there are no traffic lights in all of Bhutan.) In the center of the main intersection, a lone policeman in a decorated kiosk directed drivers by using broad arm gestures.

The sidewalks were crowded with vendors and buyers. As most of the stalls were selling either clothing or shoes, I went into a souvenir shop to look for a small gift. The proprietor was busy watching the festival dances being shown on his television set.

I showed him an item in which I was interested and he waved me off. Thinking that perhaps there was something wrong with what I had picked up, I selected another piece. This time, he even more vigorously shooed me away. It finally occurred to me that he really didn’t want to be disturbed by an anonymous tourist browsing in his shop.

Bhutan has had television only since 1999, and as the festival dances are a major religious happening, the combination of festival and television apparently overcame any interest in this would-be buyer.

Seeing some sights

Later in the day, we drove out to the site where a 169-foot-tall statue of a sitting Buddha had been erected on a point overlooking the city. The statue sits over a building that was under construction when I was there. I was told the building will house a temple and a large array of standing Buddhas.

On my last day, we went to a festival in Thimphu that took place in a huge stadium in the city. There was no charge for admission.

Crowds in their holiday finery were sitting on concrete stands, and everyone was quiet and orderly. Various dance groups performed throughout the day.

Monks dressed in traditional costume went through the crowd collecting donations, which were said to guarantee a blessing to each person making an offering.

At lunchtime, my guide took me to a local restaurant, then we returned to the festival to watch the dances, which were religious in nature.

In addition to the entertainment, the festival offered an opportunity for the Bhutanese to put on their best outfits and socialize with family and friends. Even my guide and driver were each wearing a special gho for the day.

Some final thoughts

Using US dollars in Bhutan was no problem; merchants had their calculators handy and quickly figured out the correct exchange. In retrospect, however, I should have taken the trouble to exchange my American money for the Bhutanese ngultrum at a local bank, as I constantly had to ask for a price to be recalculated in dollars.

I saw an ATM sign in Paro and one in Thimphu but did not use them. Credit cards would have created problems, as the shops are small.

For the most part, I was comfortable with my aloneness during my visit. In Thimphu, I made the acquaintance of several Americans at my hotel with whom I took an evening meal and breakfast, and I must admit that it was nice to share my experiences with like souls.

My trip to Bhutan was like no other I have ever taken. The scenery was spectacular; the people were friendly, and there was something still seemingly innocent in the treatment of visitors to this country. I would suggest that if one has any interest, now is the time to go to this beautiful, unspoiled country.