Bhutan – Day 7: Phobjikha Valley

Today’s programme was more leisurely than our previous experiences. We departed from our hotel in Phobjikha after nine o’clock to visit Gangtey Lhakhang, a monastery built by Peling Gyaltse Rinpoche, grandson of the terton Pema Lingpa. It is said that Pema Lingpa himself predicted the construction of a temple in the Valley of Phobjikha, which is known for being the winter home of black-necked cranes. These are said to circle the temple three times before landing in the valley.

Leaving Gangtey Geonpa on foot, we slowly passed through the village of Nubding, stopping by a few souvenir shops and convenience stores. We also ate some warm snacks at a local restaurant: while others munched on some kind of Bhutanese sausage, I had a fried chili pepper. Continuing on our walk, we passed through several villages separated by forests and fields. Our destination was the lookout over Phobjikha Valley, an old glacial formation now dominated by a small stream with many twists and turns. Because it is very marshy, the valley is a favourite with black-necked cranes, as the barren and treacherous landscape thwarts predators.

We descended from the lookout point until we found ourselves walking through one more village to reach Khewang Lhakhang, another temple with an interesting background. This one is said to have been built on the site where a young man was killed by a demoness disguised as his beloved. When his body fell to the ground, it made a hole into a rock which can be seen to this day.

When a tour group approaches a little-visited temple, the local guide usually searches for a monk with keys to the inner sanctum. This time, however, we were spotted by a group of young boys digging into a mound with comically oversized shovels. They shouted hellos at us and one of them kicked a football in our direction, which was masterfully received by one of my fellow travellers. Satisfied, the boy opened the door into the temple and led us through it, pouring holy water into our hands and pointing at various objects saying things we could not understand.

We then drove along the rocky road that leads across the bottom of the valley, passing by marshes on both sides and crossing over a few winding streams. We stopped to take pictures of a herd of yaks, but they timidly ran away from the side of the road. When we reached the other side, we ate lunch and visited the Black-Necked Crane Centre. Although the birds only visit Phobjikha Valley in the winter months, the centre takes care of those which – being wounded or sick – are unable to leave. There were two cranes, a male and a female, at the time of our visit.

The highlight of the day, however, was our visit to Kuenzang Chholing Shedra, which serves as the school and university to Gangtey Lhakhang. We were scheduled for a short question and answer session, but only three of us ended up going and joined another equally small group of Indian tourists. We began with general questions on Buddhism in Bhutan. However, we slowly yielded to an elderly man from the other group: he seemed to be on a desperate spiritual quest to find the route to happiness and discover the meaning of life.

A man in his mid-thirties, the lama emanated a self-assured serenity. He had a monk serving as translator to his left but clearly understood our questions, laughing thoughtfully and rubbing his bald head with both hands before the translator could relay them in their entirety. He likened life to a precious boat traversing a sea of suffering, and he explained happiness as being found in the happiness of others. The latter was a very Mahayanistic response, emphasising the collective escape from samsara over individual salvation. Following the same thread, we finished with a short compassionate meditation exercise. As we breathed in, we were supposed to think of all the suffering in the world, and upon breathing out, we were supposed to imagine those suffering as receiving peace.

With the end of our conversation drawing near, we were invited to observe evening prayers at the temple. It was the most impressive religious ceremony we have seen so far. The sanctum counted over a hundred young monks facing each other across the aisle while rhythmically reciting their prayers. After some time spent in unaccompanied recitation, the monks sitting closest to the centre began to beat their drums and cymbals, and a smaller number blew their thunderous droning horns. Then the music died down again, and the whole ebb and flow began anew.

For dinner, we visited a local family in Phobjikha Valley. It was a colourful experience. Before we could sit down on the rugs arranged around the metal stove, the cat threw up on one of them, prompting the hostess to quickly sweep the bulk of it and place another rug over the rest. Our guide told us that the chimney leading from the stove had only been installed relatively recently; traditional houses tend to have a chimney-less stove or fireplace in the middle of the living room, and the only way people can ventilate is by opening the door.

The food was a bit rough, but of course the multiple courses brought before us indicated we were being treated as honoured guests. This night was my first time trying salty butter tea and orchid soup, and though they probably won’t become my favourites, I am glad I had the chance to try them. Nevertheless, the most surprising part of the experience was visiting the family shrine. It was by far the tidiest and most lavish room in the house, filled with countless banners and statues. On the seat of honour sat a framed photograph of the hostess’s son, who was recognised as a reincarnation of an important lama and is now studying at a prestigious monastic school.