Bhutan Surprises

By the 12th day of my trek we had reached an area called Gaya. There are hotsprings there, this was listed on the itinerary, my guide Sonam talked about it so it seemed like a big deal. At some point I started to think about it abit more, what "type" of hotspring? A natural rock and mud hotspring? A more developed hotspring? Most of Bhutan is rural so I had no idea what to expect. But I was excited as this was going to be my first chance to have a shower since I started my trek.


Gasa Hotsprings is a popular spot for the people of Bhutan. Many people travel as far as they can by taxi and then have to hike the 15km in, either carrying what they need or hiring horses. I was there in "low" season I'm told which is good because in a month or so the area and the pools will be packed and people will have to use a schedule that they must put their name down for. Most visitors stay there for about 10days believing that in order for the hotsprings to be truly effective they must be there long enough. Truly effective for what I wonder? Why, curing disease of course! My guide neglected to mention that part and my itinerary never mentioned it either.


There are 5 pools which are relatively developed by Bhutan standards as they're encased in concrete. Modesty prevails so I'm wearing a bathing suit but I feel underdressed as most of the women are wearing tank tops and skirts although there are some older women who are topless and don't seem concerned in the least. However I'm grateful for the suit as I'm being watched with open curiosity. I put on my best smile as I got into the warm water, and said hello in the local dialect which elicited many smiles. The 15 or so people in the pool didn't seem to notice that I'm uncomfortable being stared at, but It feels harmless. I reckon this is no more intrusive than me taking photos all the time. One woman asked me a question in her language, which meant more smiling and me shrugging my shoulders. Eventually one man says hello in English. He asks me where I'm from and am I married to the other tourist? I nod quickly and now the other solo traveller Jim has now become my husband. Jim and I have been paired up the past couple days meaning that we are served meals together and end up hiking at the same time. We've been getting along great so it's all good and I know he won't mind that he is my defacto husband. And the truth is I'm glad he's there, I stand out enough not to have the extra detail that I'm traveling alone. The man asks what I think about the hotpools, "Oh very nice I say" as I'm still smiling and nodding. The other folks are smiling and nodding too. Then the man says "This is the TB pool" I look at him confused... "the TB pool I say?" "Oh yes!" he says enthusiastically "This pool will cure Tuberculosis" The other people in the pool seem to know THAT word and they smile knowingly.


I am sitting in warm bath water with people who want to be cured of TB...... "Well LOOK at the time, I REALLY should be going!" I get the hell out of the TB water and meander over to another pool full of folks extremely curious about the white woman in the bathing suit coming over. By this time I accept that I am going to be stared at in every pool. I see my husband Jim and sit beside him. He leans over and says quietly "this pool cures muscle and joint problems as well as skin conditions, but I don't see anything that looks communicable" Jim is a doctor in California and has volunteered in a couple third world countries so I take his word for it.


I look at him and start giggling as he does too, because you know, it's damn funny. I'm wondering what else is in store for me. Eventually I migrate to the pool that shows the most promise, the pool for "evil deeds" I figure, how bad can this be? Then I realize there is only men in the water and I begin to wonder exactly what "bad deeds" means. I then remember all the signs I've read while in Bhutan about safe sex and using condoms. I begin to wonder if any STD's are transferred through water....


I did run into my guide at one pool but I sensed he was uncomfortable with me in the same pool and then I realized he was going to get into the water in his underwear as many of the men were doing. So to make it less of an issue I got out and went to another pool and never did end up in the water at the same time he did. Not that I wanted to stay too long, as much as I enjoyed the hot mineral water, the idea of sitting in people soup with sick folk wasn't that appealing. Obviously not everyone there was sick but still... Jim said that at camp he had talked to a Bhutanese doctor who was there studying an eye infection outbreak.

Both Jim and I decided we had spent enough time in the pools to experience it and not seem like cultural snobs. Besides the curious stares, I was left alone in Gasa which is amazing when you think about it. There were no tourist shops as most of the people are locals who don't need the nick nacks. In most other developing countries I had been to I would have been besieged at my tent by people selling all manner of things. But that was one of the great things about Bhutan, tourist commerce hasn't been exploited (yet) I have no doubt that Nepal, Peru, Africa, were like this at some point too. I think for many countries it becomes inevitable that an entire tertiary industry will grow from the tourist trade. It remains to be seen what will happen in Bhutan. They have managed their tourism with a savvy that shows they are willing to do things differently and aren't neccessarily interested in bowing to the golden of calf of capitalism. Can this last? I'm not sure and its one of reasons that I wanted to visit this country now.

Back from Bhutan

Hard to believe a journey can be completed and yet know it has just begun, but here I sit back in Calgary with that knowing. I've had so many thoughts rattling around in my head during and after my trip that its been difficult organizing ideas in a coherent manner for a blog. So I cracked open a bottle of wine to help. I reckon I'll get smarter and more eloquent as the wine is drank....

Bhutan was both pilgrimage and retreat. A place to walk and allow my thoughts and feelings to be expressed. A country where the teachings of the Buddha are alive and well. Being in the mountains hasn't been easy for me since Colin's death. I was going there to hopefully sort some of this out. Maybe, find a home for some of my grieving, a place where suffering is understood.

There I went, purposely alone (with assistance of a guide, cook and horseman) I kept getting told I was "brave". I never felt brave, in some ways I felt a bit desperate. Perhaps bravery is found in people who feel they have nothing to lose. I don't let go easily and yet I know that holding on to the past and my attachments to "what was" doesn't serve me. Distractions abound in my life, pleasantries that enable me to stay busy and avoid the issues that continue to swim below the surface. I knew on some level that Bhutan was the place I could go to start taking stock of where I was at on the inside.

If I think of the aspect of my grief during this trip, then at the start I have to admit to being disheartened at the continuing depth of my sadness. Tears flowed easily and often on the trek and I was thankful for my too large, very dark Oakley rip-off sunglasses purchased for $5 in Kathmandu. I also accepted that I wasn't a beauty queen on this trip so looking like shit was perfectly ok. There were many afternoons and evenings of mini-melt downs in my tent. I was taken aback at my feelings and the judgement that would creep in and whisper "You're not BETTER yet Lise, when are you going to get BETTER? People are expecting you to get over this you know" I told that voice to shut the fuck up, sent her packing with a swift kick in the ass. I gave permission for tears to swell, sadness to come.

One thing I have realized during my journey since Colin's death is that with the tears comes a softness in my heart. A softness that allows me to relate to environments and people in a different way. Whether I like it or not there is a lowering of the shields and for moments my vision clears. I see other individuals as fellow travellers who are suffering or celebrating their own life circumstance. I see each of us as souls inhabiting bodies and moving through this life doing the best we can. I relate with an unguarded vulnerability and openness, even if its only for brief moments, but I connect with a deeper, more wise part of myself. The awareness of compassion and caring within, for myself and others is humbling and amazing all at the same time. It doesn't last for very long but long enough to know that place exists and maybe, with time, that area can be accessed without the trials of grief. Maybe I can find a gentler trail to follow to get to the same place. With the softening, I relate to the natural world in a different way. A form of shamanic ceremony that takes away the resistance long enough for me to be teachable again by nature. The wind feels different on my skin, carrying the whispers of Grandmother earth. My ragged breath while walking up a path at altitude, reminds me viscerally of how alive I am, as the sound of my heartbeat reverberates in my ears, aligning with my footsteps in a timeless rhythm.

When tears fell I asked Bhutan to accept them, I asked her for passage along her high altitude ridges and through her muddy valleys. I asked for asylum for my grief and in boldness asked if I could leave parts of my sadness behind, in cracks, crevasses, the water and on the wind.

When I entered a monastery I felt the peacefulness of the Buddha and the multitude of Bodhisattva's that appeared after him. Individuals who attained enlightenment but have committed to reincarnating until every sentient being reaches enlightenment themselves. I would pray to these deities that they assist me in dealing with my own grief and suffering. There is power in asking for help, in the acceptance that others have assistance and are willing to give it. I'm beginning to understand the strength in surrender and accepting help.

Some of my nights were not easy, adjusting to the altitude, dealing with a cold that made breathing more difficult and the awareness of being alone. I would wake up in distress, not able to breath and with the choking feeling of claustrophobia, panic would rise. I would begin to chant the ineffable Buddhist mantra Om Mani Padme Hum. (I will leave it up to you to find out what it means) I would relax and the night terrors would retreat while I focused on this mantra.

Each morning I would wake up and do it again. Walk, marvel at the beauty, cry, walk some more. At the highest point on my journey I reached the top of the pass at 5003m. I found a new strength as I slowly ascended the rocky slope to the top of the pass. With each step forward I found more aliveness within myself. I had the feeling of elation at the top and was surprised that I didn't feel the effects of the altitude. At that point I truly felt like a part and participant of the Bhutan landscape, not simply a tourist passing through. It was the elusive feeling I've felt in my own mountain home, the Rockies. The innate sense of being exactly where I was meant to be and I now know that during those peak experiences I am truly experiencing the present moment.

I realized that what I wanted to do was build a cairn for Colin. He would have so loved it on that windy and snowy ridge underneath a brilliant sky. As I found the right rocks I felt a damn burst and if I could have I would have dropped to my knees as tears coursed through me with shocking force. The BIG melt-down as opposed to the mini-meltdowns I had been experiencing prior. I remember Jason telling me how he was overcome with emotion at the top of Aconcagua and no doubt this was similar. I build the cairn through blurred vision as tears coursed down my face. I built it under the colourful flags sending prayers enthusiastically through the wind. A spot for Colin to visit now that he can go where ever the hell he wants. While I was walking down the steep descent trail there was spot for two to walk side by side and I felt Colin's presence. Hell who am I kidding, I looked over and saw him making his long strides. He smiled at me and we enjoyed that moment as we have many times before. The feeling of accomplishment and relaxation as the difficult part is over. I laughed at the thought that the only time he joined me was on the descent when I could keep up with him. I enjoyed his company for much of the steep walk down into the valley. I still walked and grieved the rest of the trip but some of the intensity had dissipated.

I realized that Bhutan had heard my prayers and was willing to let me leave some of the sadness where I experienced it. The tears were absorbed into the earth and the wind took the rest. My prayers floated along the coloured flags that bore the intent of so many sentient beings before me. Beings who may have had similar prayers and needed the same refuge from their suffering as I did. There was so much solace in the mountains, the small prayer chortens along the trails, the monasteries and the people of Bhutan.

I know I'm not "better" but I've also given up the expectation that I should be. When difficult times come I now have the sacred places to draw strength from, I can feel the wind on my face, I can kneel before the tall and majestic Buddha's in the monastery, I can hear the prayer flags fluttering with the wind. I can see the burgundy robes of the monks and remember that there is a country where prayer and acceptance of the vicissitudes of life is not special, it is as life should be.

Om Mani Padme Hum. Thank you Bhutan.