Bhutan 5: The Paro Taktsang hike and the journey home

     The final day in Bhutan was entirely about hiking Paro Taktsang, more commonly known as Tiger's Nest.  The trail began about thirty minutes from our hotel.  I parted ways with Jeremy and Rye near the start.  This is what I saw on the way up:

I asked this fellow to pose for me.

  As I approached the top, I received a text from Rye.  He provided me a picture of my ticket.  He explained that I would need to find a guide to be allowed inside.  I spoke with the ticket booth, with the aid of a guide standing nearby.  They allowed me to go in by myself.  Phones and backpacks had to be kept in a locker.

  The temple had many small rooms, spread out over three levels. On the top floor, there was one final set of stairs leading to two rooms.  The staircase had room for two people, side by side.  The way up was being held up by a single woman.  Despite a person on each step, this woman had sat down and was leisurely viewing her phone, blocking the way entirely.  After a minute or so, I elevated my voice to reach her, and suggested moving so we could pass.  She got up.

  The hike took me three hours and thirty six minutes.  Many online sources suggested a hike of six hours.  This likely included breaks such as lunch at the cafe and more time at the temple.  I hadn't considered this, and was concerned that it would be more strenuous and that I would not be prepared.  Once at the bottom, our driver picked me up and brought me back to the hotel.  Jeremy returned a few hours later.

    Two final notes on Bhutan:

  1.  At the Gangtey Monastery, as we were about to leave, we were asked to have tea and khabzay.  Online searches reveal that this is a dried fritter made with flour, water, and sugar, which is deep fried.  I found them tasty.

  2.  We saw snooker parlors all throughout Bhutan.  I had never heard of snooker before.

  The next morning we departed for India.  The x-ray machines had a male and female entrance, so that a guard of the corresponding gender could scan you on the other side..  We entered our business class lounge.  Jeremy did not choose to eat anything.  I took multiple trips to the buffet.

  Since I slept through the first journey, I was excited to experience business class.  We were given a menu and a table cloth.  The food was fantastic.  A small box was included with our meal.  Jeremy explained that it was just for condiments, so I didn't bother opening it at first.  Later, we overheard a conversation across the aisle.  A steward was urging to a woman to open the box.  It was a Druk Air salt and pepper shaker.

I liked mango drinks in both countries.

  Back in India, we stayed at the Holiday Inn that I stayed in on the first night.  Our flight home was on the following evening.  I walked back to the convenience store.  Jeremy refused, citing the heat as reason to avoid going outside.  

  We returned to our tradition of afternoon coffee and cake.  Jeremy chose the Italian restaurant in our hotel for dinner.  The food was excellent and we had the place nearly to ourself.  The music playing near and inside the elevators was the first bar of Für Elise Bagatelle No. 25, on repeat.  I explained to Jeremy that although I have never liked the song, I liked this version even less.  

Free cookies with coffee.

We arranged for an evening late checkout.  Jeremy suggested we left earlier than we had originally planned, on account of it being a Saturday night. This proved to be wise.  The airport's many security checkpoints took time, including a final one just at the gate.  

  On the plane, Jeremy left for his fancy first class seat.  I was in extra legroom, but the flight was challenging due to being sat next top a woman with a terrible hacking cough. A few minutes after boarding, I grabbed my N95 mask.  We arrived at JFK airport and I began to feel a sore throat.  It was too soon to have come from the woman, so I must have caught it earlier.

  I said goodbye to Jeremy, had a salad, and then departed for DC.  My next flight, to Asheville, was the first segment that refused my use of the closet for my posters.  By a stroke of fortune, I found room in the narrow overhead bins on the small plane.

  At Asheville airport, luggage was delayed by a stuck bag.  Afterwards, I realized that my bag was actually on an adjacent conveyor belt.

The morning we left from Bhutan.

On the floor of Asheville Airport.

The art piece from the Thimphu paper factory, displayed in my new apartment in Chicago.

The art piece from Jakar, also now in Chicago.