Big Sur

I wake up at 4:30 every morning having to pee. My cheeks cold from the brisk air. My body hugging the hot water bottle under the covers. I snuggle in the warmth for a few more minutes before mustering up the courage to get out of bed and trudge outside to the bathroom. Thanks to modern technology and this new concept of “glamping”, a luxurious outhouse awaits me only a few yards from the tent.

In the early mornings, I can hear an owl hooing in the distance and the creek bubbling close by. The air smells strongly of pine. Either pinewood burning in a campfire or the scent of fresh pine needles. It’s better than any Yankee Candle.

A year ago, I remember writing down my dream of living near the ocean and the mountains. I visualized it, meditated on it, and truly believed that it wasn’t a matter of if my dream would come true. It was a matter of when. Big Sur is the culmination of this dream becoming reality. As I stand on a mountaintop and look around me, I breathe in gratitude.

Big Sur is about 150 miles from San Francisco. It’s a 2-3 hour drive, but the drive down Highway 1 is a beautiful one. We stay at the amazing Ventana Big Sur, a resort that offers cushy suites, glamping, and campsites where you can pitch your own tent. I didn’t grow up camping but wanted to try sleeping outdoors. Glamping was my compromise and a great introduction to true camping someday.

Ventana’s A-frame tents are cozy, warmly lit, perfectly photogenic, and super clean. The glamping and camping sites sit in a valley a short walk behind the resort, surrounded by a redwood forest. We park our car right next to our tent and unpack our bags on the picnic table. There are two fire pits, a gas one and a wood-burning one. Our tent also has electricity and running water. We have our own outdoor sink with hot water and three lamps inside the tent. Upon arriving and surveying our amenities, Steve turns to me and says with a smile, “This isn’t camping”.

But, it’s just the right amount of “camping” for me, for now. After this trip, I think I’ll be ready to rough it outdoors without an outhouse that’s nicer than my bathroom at home.

We spend four glorious days at Ventana, waking up with the sun and going to bed when it sets. We hike for hours on the trails and wind down with a fancy cheese plate before dinner. We admire the stars that feel so close and cap off our night with a few s’mores around our fire pit. With all the hiking we did, it was the first vacation we took where we actually lost a few pounds.

It rained on one of the days and we were forced to lay in bed and read. I finished an entire book. Normally, it takes me a few weeks to get through one. (I highly recommend Wyrd Sisters by Terry Pratchett.) That was one of the best parts of our stay, that time seemed to slow down. We soaked in the sun and breathed in the fresh air. We literally stopped and smelled the roses.

Naturally, the first days of a vacation are the best, like the Friday night before a weekend. I get pangs of sadness during our last day in Big Sur. I don’t want to leave our forest retreat. I breathe in one last breath of pine-scented air and hop into the car. I know I’ll be back again.

‘Til next time Big Sur.

The Air I Breathe

I remember the dark exhaust spewing out of an old beat-up car on Division Street in Chicago. The two people in the front seat seemingly not knowing the pillows of poison they left behind as they sped away. That image has stuck with me ever since.

I hold my breath a lot these days. When I’m passing someone smoking a cigarette outside a building. When a semi-truck is idling near me. When I’m standing in a windowless parking garage. I think of the dangerous fumes entering my lungs.

Last week, I walked near a construction zone and felt the dust blow into my eyes, nose, and mouth. I felt violated, contaminated, dirty. Both inside and out.

Air pollution is a silent killer. It seeps into every nook and cranny. Like a ghost, particulates are invisible when they enter our lungs. They are all around us when we om and ah in the yoga studio and when we put our little ones to sleep. Air pollution feels inescapable.

Today, San Francisco is suffocating from a devastating wildfire. Though the fire is more than 150 miles away, the Bay is covered in a thick smoke and the air quality in the city has become worse than Beijing’s. I’m confined indoors and when I do venture out, I wear a mask. Every inhale is short, heavy, calculated.

The issue of air pollution gnaws at me. Physically and figuratively. It sits on my shoulder when I work. It wants my attention when I walk outside. It shakes me when I smell exhaust or burnt plastic. It screams in my ear when I read the news. I am overwhelmed by it, this systemic issue that I can’t fix on my own.

I’ve been called crazy and neurotic for voicing my opinions. But, I can’t deny my instincts when they tell me something in the air is wrong. Every human being and creature has the right to clean air, clean food, clean water. The very basic necessities in life. I need to do more…always more.

“We do not inherit the earth from our ancestors, we borrow it from our children.”

Talk 30 to Me

Each birthday is a gift. A time to reflect and be grateful for health and prosperity. I tend to get super sentimental on my birthday as I’m reminded of the fact that I’m getting older.

A dear friend recently told me that birthdays aren’t always about celebrating the year ahead, sometimes they’re about celebrating the year you’ve had. In that case, 29 was a major year for me. When I turned 29, I had no idea what the year had in store. Over the past 12 months, I’ve moved across the country, started a new job, traveled to places on my bucket list. These milestones sound glamorous and in many ways they were, but they were also tough lessons in saying goodbye, stepping outside my comfort zone, and finding my new normal.

One thing I really wanted to focus on this year was my mental health. I’ve spent years suffering silently from Anxiety and Depression. Working with a therapist (aka my mental fitness coach) has been one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. Taking the first step in seeking help was absolutely terrifying, but I’m proud of myself for doing it.

My 20s were fueled by big career goals. I was so focused on this definition of “success” that was instilled in me by my family and by society. “Get a good job, climb the corporate ladder, be financially secure, blah blah blah.”

I had to learn that success is a relative term and instead of striving for success, I should strive for significance. That’s what I hope to uncover in my 30s - my purpose in life.

Though turning 30 is slightly scary, I feel ready. My 20s were a lot of fun, but I was also incredibly naive and insecure. I’m excited for 30 and for the adventures my 30s will bring. Hopefully this new decade includes starting a family, building my dream home, and maybe even becoming a CEO. After all, the sky is the limit.

Bhutan

It’s so tricky to land in Paro that only nine pilots in the world (eight men and one woman) are skilled enough to do it. Naturally, I had slight flight anxiety before we boarded our plane, but it’s a smooth ride as our pilot glides over the Himalayas. As we begin to descend, he expertly winds his way through the mountains. We fly right up against them, seemingly inches from the trees. Suddenly, I see a runway appear and we land in a small but beautiful airport.

It's taken us two days to get to Bhutan. We flew from Chicago to Tokyo, Tokyo to Bangkok, Bangkok to Kolkata, and then Kolkata to Paro. We get off the plane in Paro completely exhausted but mesmerized by our surroundings. One of the first things to greet us is a giant portrait of the royal family. Little did I know that I would see several portraits of the royal family throughout my trip. There’s one in almost every home, store, and restaurant we enter.

If I could describe Bhutan in one word, it would be "majestic". Not only do the mountains stand tall and proud around us, the architecture is downright regal. Gold and white buildings are elegantly painted with fine detail and speckle the green landscape. Even the airport is designed in the dzong architecture that’s mandated in the country.

On the drive from Paro to Thimphu, I see hundreds of mini stupas placed in the crevices of the mountainside. Prayer flags are strewn between pine trees and flutter with the wind. Cows and dogs roam the streets, always somehow finding their way home. We come across a few monkeys near the food stand our guide, Sonam, takes us to.

I ask Sonam what the most popular dish is in Bhutan. I think I hear him say “chili and cheese”. In my head, I picture a block of pepper jack. It’s not until lunch that I realize the dish is in fact called “chilie cheese” or ema datse. Green chilies stewed in melted cheese. It’s delicious and rightly deemed the national dish.

On our way to Thimphu, Sonam turns on the radio and Miley Cyrus’ "Wrecking Ball" plays. Then, a country song plays. Apparently, Bhutanese love country music. I feel right at home.

THIMPHU

When we arrive in Thimphu, we drive on the only double-lane road in the country. It’s about seven kilometers long. There is construction everywhere. New apartments are being built left and right. It’s clear modernization is continuing its expansion in Bhutan, taking over land that was once orchards and crops. Growth can be bittersweet.

There are no traffic lights in Bhutan. The first roads were built in the 1960s, connecting Paro to Thimphu and Bhutan to India. Our driver, Karma, is constantly dodging cows, dogs, cyclists, and pedestrians.

We end our first day early, cut short after Steve falls asleep in the car. Two days of nonstop traveling have us worn out. Before I hop out of the car when we arrive at the hotel, Sonam says to me, “Linda, remember, don’t pet the dogs.” He knows me well already.

Thimphu is the capital of Bhutan and the country’s largest city. Like most cities, it is perpetually under construction, dirty, and congested. I struggle with the fact that even one of the most sustainable countries in the world struggles with plastic waste, air pollution, and clean water. I look around me and notice that most Bhutanese are dressed in traditional garb - a Gho for men and a Kira for women. Though, Sonam tells me that more and more young people wear Western clothes. Almost everyone seems to have an Android smartphone, and the WiFi is fast. I’m surrounded by dzongs, traditions, and the Himalayas, but Western culture has crept its way into everyday life.

Once the sun sets, we’re confined to our hotel. We’ve been warned about the packs of stray dogs that roam the streets at night. By day, they seem so cute, basking in the shade, curled up and asleep. By night, I can hear the rabid barking from my third-floor hotel room. It sounds like hundreds of dogs are barking below my window. I envision gangs of street dogs running the city like a canine version of West Side Story.

I feel a little anxious before we leave for Gangtey, the next leg of our trip. As I’m trying to fall asleep, it dawns on me that this may be the only chance I get to see Bhutan in my lifetime. I suddenly feel immense pressure to experience and remember everything. I take a few deep breaths and remind myself to try to be in the moment and feel grateful for simply the privilege of being here.

After a couple nights in Thimphu, we drive four hours to Gangtey Valley, weaving up and down the mountains and winding along the cliffs. The scenery we pass is stunning. We soak in the rugged hills and sweeping valleys. We belt out Adele, Alan Jackson, and Ed Sheeran songs on the radio. Sonam shows us a few stops along the way - a produce stand on the side of the road to try cucumbers coated in red chili powder, lunch in Punakha, and butter tea in a village close to Wangdue.

We're about two hours from Gangtey when it starts to rain. On our right, we keep an eye out for mudslides and falling rocks. On our left, we face a cliff drop and the fear of falling into the abyss. At one point, we narrowly miss falling rocks. If this isn’t a tough enough situation, Karma has to drive on a stretch of unpaved road, dodging sharp rocks, fallen trees, and potholes. “Driving in Bhutan is always an adventure,” Sonam says. Steve and I laugh nervously.

After our stop for butter tea, it’s another 40 minutes of unpaved road. “Is this the only way to get to the Lodge?” I ask Sonam. “Yes,” he replies, “[in fact] it’s the only way to the Lodge and to Gangtey Valley.” We drive through a sleepy, medieval-looking town built on the side of the valley. Down a crooked, muddy road, we finally arrive at Gangtey Lodge.

GANGTEY

When we pull into the Lodge, we’re quickly whisked inside. In the main living room area, we’re greeted with a beautiful welcome song sung by the staff, a steaming hot towel, warm apple cider, and a five-minute neck massage. “Are we in heaven?” I turn to Steve. We smile at each other like we’ve just been told we won the lottery. Gangtey Lodge is truly luxury beyond anything I’ve ever experienced before. We have reached Nirvana.

We end our first night in Gangtey with a deep tissue massage and hot stone bath. We go to bed feeling worlds away from reality.

Our second day in Gangtey is full of one magical moment after another. Steve and I are still adjusting to the time zone, so we wake up at the crack of dawn. We start our day with an early breakfast on the Lodge’s back balcony, overlooking the valley. The fog is still rolling in, giving the impression that we’re eating our meal in the clouds. The Lodge’s service and attention to detail is second to none, and the staff brings out blankets, hot water bottles, and neck warmers for us as we enjoy a quiet morning reading, taking in the view, and wolfing down pastries.

After breakfast, Sonam takes us to the Gangteng Monastery (or Gangtey Dzong) just down the road. The dormitories of young monks (adoringly nicknamed “monklettes” or “chipmonks”) encircle the main temple, which is undergoing renovations. The monks let us visit the temple interior, where we learn about the history of the monastery, the murals, and the cakes at the altar.

From the monastery, we go on a two-hour hike through the Phobjikha Valley. Hoopoes flutter about. Crows call out their ominous cry. Cows and wild horses graze in the center of the valley, the same area Bhutan’s famous black-necked cranes migrate to during the winter months. On one side of the valley, we see rain gently falling. On the other side, we see bright blue skies and sun. Monsoon season in the valley means unpredictable rainfall and we feel lucky that our day has been clear so far.

I’m pleasantly surprised to hear the valley still sees tigers, leopards, and bears - all animals I know are on the brink of extinction. In Bhutan, they are very much around thanks to significant conservation and anti-poaching efforts. If a tiger, leopard, or bear kills a farmer’s cow, the royal government compensates him for his loss, which helps prevent the farmer from retaliating against precious wildlife.

After lunch at the Lodge, Sonam and Karma patiently teach us old school archery and darts, two of the country’s favorite pastimes. Steve catches on quickly but I am a sad sight. Both activities are much harder than they look. For the sake of keeping my dignity, I should probably never pick up a bow again.

At exactly 5:15 pm, we meet another couple in the lobby to be led to our meditation practice. The practice takes place at the Gangtey Shedra Monastic School. Ranging from 12 to 40 years old, over 250 monks live at the school, where they learn Buddhist philosophy, poetry, meditation, and debate.

A staff member from the hotel guides us to the Shedra. It’s just up the hill, though our walk is a muddy one given the rain. The couple accompanying us is from Melbourne and has been practicing Buddhism for several years. Steve and I are completely new to the religion. When we arrive at the small meditation room, we’re invited to sit on long rugs that are slightly raised from the floor. We’re told that the monk giving us our meditation teaching is only 22 years old and speaks English. We’re also told that he is believed to be the reincarnation of a past lama. “He’s a Rinpoche!” the Australian woman exclaims, “Then we must stand.” Steve and I scramble to our feet to greet the Rinpoche when he walks in.

“He’s just a kid,” I think to myself as he sits at the front of the room. He smiles shyly as he thanks us for traveling all this way to visit Bhutan and the monastery. He begins by sharing that he is in his fourth year at the school and arrived at the age of 10.

For an hour, our Rinpoche teaches us about the history of Buddhism, what the religion is guided by, and how to approach meditation. He approaches everything with gratitude. Before and after answering a person’s question, he thanks the person for the question. He may look young but boy, his teachings are full of wisdom and compassion. At the end of the hour, he meditates with us for five minutes.

During our time there, we’re offered sweet Bhutanese milk tea and cookies. I am so touched and can’t believe that the monks are serving us. I feel like we should be the ones serving them. The kindness and hospitality shown during our short stay at the Shedra is something I hope to remember and practice.

A few things our Rinpoche taught us:

Whether it’s Hinduism, Buddhism, Muslim, Judaism, or Christianity, we are all human beings. We have similarities in our religions. We each serve a God. But at the end of the day, we are all here to learn, to be compassionate, and to do our best in our current lives. I may learn a lot from someone else’s religion - knowledge I wouldn’t have if I shut out other people because they are different.

We live in a changing world. Buddha didn’t have as many distractions and temptations as we do today.

Be careful of the four enemies:

• Selfishness (using “I”)

• Anger (saying harsh words)

• Laziness (for instance, oversleeping)

• Jealousy (comparing ourselves to others)

If I see someone driving a really nice car, I shouldn’t feel jealous of that person and angry about my life. I should be happy that the person is able to afford the car. We are all part of the same team - we are all in this life together.

I arrived at the monastery at the age of 10. I was sad at first to leave my family and friends. But now I realize had I stayed home, I would be helping my mom wash dishes or some other chores. Instead, I can help the world find joy and happiness. I can help people in a time of need when they come to me.

We don’t kill animals or insects because we believe every living creature has a soul, a soul that was perhaps a relative’s reincarnated.

Why we meditate:

If we go door-to-door trying to solve people’s problems, we’ll never get anything done. By meditating, we can solve more problems for more people simply through our thoughts.

Our thoughts are very powerful.

When we meditate:

Meditation is best in the morning, when it’s quiet and our bodies are awake.

But if that’s not possible, meditate when you can, even if it’s simply three long inhales and exhales.

Where we meditate:

Meditation is best in a quiet, remote place - free from distractions and noise. It’s why Buddha left his palace as a prince to seek solitude in the forest.

But I know meditating in a perfect place can be hard. Meditation can be done anywhere - on your way home from work, for instance.

How we meditate:

1. In a seated position, place your left leg above your right.

2. Place your left hand under your right and lay them lightly in your lap.

3. Sit up straight like an arrow but don’t arch your back like a bow.

4. Relax your shoulders.

5. Straighten your neck so that you’re looking straight ahead.

6. Place your tongue at the roof of your mouth.

7. Relax your brows.

Then, take three long breaths. When you inhale, picture a white light of positivity and purity entering your body. When you exhale, picture darkness leaving your body - all the negativity and toxins.

As we step outside the meditation room, the sun has set and we hear monks playing instruments and chanting in the large temple in the center of the dormitories. It is such a surreal, transcendental moment for me. I feel the power of spirituality in the air and their chants are deeply moving. It isn’t until we get into the van to take us back to the Lodge that I am able to process the profound and extraordinary experience we were just blessed with. It almost brings tears to my eyes.

In Bhutan, I am surrounded by a culture of humility, gratitude, and joy. I have so much to learn from the country, and I desperately want to spend more time here. It’s refreshing to get away from the materialism and consumerism at home - stuff that distracts me from what’s really important. I’m slowly learning that things don’t make me happy. True, sustainable happiness is found within.

After Gangtey, I realize our trip is halfway over. Time seems to move slowly in Bhutan but our days have flown by in the blink of an eye.

PUNAKHA

On our two-hour drive to Punakha, we pass by several landslides and fallen rocks. Typical occurrences during monsoon season, but nevertheless dangerous. The weather becomes warmer and sunnier the closer we get to Punakha.

In Punakha, we have lunch near The Fertility Temple, which is dedicated to the Divine Madman. Couples who have trouble conceiving can receive a blessing in the monastery by being struck in the head with a large wooden phallus. Consider me blessed then! Women can also carry an even larger wooden phallus around the monastery - clockwise, three times.

A large tree in front of The Fertility Temple provides a few moments of shade before we head back down the hill for Thangka painting. We enter a shop full of beautiful paintings ranging in size, style, and detail. All of them are related to Buddhism. Our teacher has sketched out a dragon for me and an infinity symbol for Steve. Little jars of naturally dyed paint are laid out for us. We’re basically coloring in the lines he’s drawn, but it’s relaxing and doesn’t stop me from pretending I’m Michelangelo. Every so often, he checks our progress. He crouches down between us and helps us sharpen our lines with a thinner brush. He does it effortlessly.

“Painting is a type of meditation,” he tells us as he fixes our work, “We paint quietly.”

I ask him how long painting a design like mine would normally take.

“This one would take one week. But some paintings take months and even over a year.”

I’m realizing that nothing done in Bhutan is half-assed. Everything is done with thoughtfulness and expert craftsmanship.

I ask him how long he’s been painting for.

“Thirteen years. I spent six years in school (in Thimphu), then four years apprenticing with a master. I’ve had my own store for three years.”

After painting, Karma drives us to our hotel. It’s situated on the side of a cliff, so our views are stunning. We overlook a newer settlement along the Punakha river, rebuilt after a flood in the early 1990’s. The Dhensa Resort is surrounded by a pine forest and everything in the hotel is made of pinewood. It kind of feels like we’re staying in a giant sauna, minus the heat.

The next day, Sonam takes us on a hike to Khamsum Yulley Namgyal Chorten, a monastery built by the Queen Mother. It’s a one-of-a-kind monastery, built according to holy scriptures instead of the typical Tibetan, Bhutanese, or Nepali stupa designs we’re used to seeing. We’re allowed to explore the three floors and take a photo from the rooftop. Photos aren’t allowed inside monasteries, so Steve and I have gotten into the habit of asking Sonam for permission before we take them. “I’ll let you know when you can’t take photos,” he smiles at us. But, I still ask. Every time.

Punakha is the hottest city we’ve been to in Bhutan so far and by the time we reach the monastery, we’re sweating through our clothes. But, the hike is totally worth it. “The other option for today was a four to five hour hike up that hill and along the ridge to the monastery,” Sonam laughs as he points to some mountains in the distance. I shake my head, “That means an eight to ten hour hike for me.”

On our way to lunch, we stop by the gigantic Punakha Dzong, the second largest and oldest in Bhutan. The original temple on the grounds was built in the 12th century, but the dzong we know today was built in 1638. It’s where the first king was coronated in 1907 and where the current king (affectionately nicknamed “K5”) was married in 2011. The Punakha Dzong feels more like a medieval fortress than the other dzongs we’ve been to, especially with the Pho Chhu and Mo Chhu rivers around it serving as a moat.

After lunch, we pick up our paintings from yesterday. Our teacher has put the finishing touches on them, and now they look infinitely better. He gives us a pen to sign the bottoms but in reality, he should probably initial them too. We had a lot of fun painting with him and are sad to leave as we wave goodbye from the car.

Our last stop in Punakha is a visit to the local nunnery, the Sangchhen Dorji Lhuendrup Lhakhang Nunnery. It sits up on a hill, just above our hotel. The father of the four Queen Mothers financed the nunnery and built a house for himself across from it. The nunnery is bright, breezy, and well cared for. Inside the temple, there are five towering brass statues of:

• Lord Buddha

• Guru Rinpoche

• Chenrezik

• The Man with the Long Beard

• Tsepame

We’ve seen these guys a few times already and they’re starting to feel like old friends. In all the temples we’ve visited, the walls are covered in Thangka paintings and the statues are larger than life. I can’t believe the details and colors on each brass statue, wood carving, clay figure, and mural. On our first day in Bhutan, Sonam told us that he wouldn’t take us to all the temples. “You’ll get dzonged out.”

PARO

After Punakha, we start our last leg of the trip - Paro. We drive back the way we came, past the 108 stupas at Dochula Pass, and back through Thimphu. Paro is smaller and less populated than Thimphu, but there are many hotels and souvenir shops. Every tourist comes through the city since it’s where the country’s only international airport is located and it’s home to Tiger’s Nest, the country’s most famous site.

We have lunch and visit the temporary National Museum since the original building is being renovated. We walk through the masks and clay statue exhibits and spend most of the time in the natural resources exhibit. We learn how global warming is quickly melting the glaciers that form the rivers running through Bhutan. The number and severity of floods are increasing. We learn about the bears in the central part of the country, the tigers and snow leopards to the north, the red pandas to the west, and the elephants and rhinos to the south. Because of Bhutan’s tight regulations on conservation and its variety of climates, the country serves as one of the last havens for endangered species. The exhibit inspires me to be as sustainable as possible in the choices I make.

Each hotel we’ve stayed at in Bhutan has been special for different reasons. COMO Uma is the last hotel of our trip and our last experience living in luxury before heading back to the real world. James, the manager of the hotel, greets us in the lobby. When he finds out we’re hiking Tiger’s Nest in the morning, he offers some food for thought:

Treat tomorrow as not just your average trek or photo op. Treat it as a pilgrimage of the heart. When you’re in the monastery, count your blessings and accept the powerful spirituality there. The monastery represents hope and people who believe. It seemed impossible to build a monastery on the side of a cliff but the people believed and made it happen. I’ve met tourists who get to the halfway point, have lunch at the cafe, take some pictures, and then choose not to climb the rest of the way. The hike to Tiger’s Nest is a reflection of life - it has high points and low points. It has a final destination, which if you put in the effort, will be beyond your wildest dreams.

The next morning, Steve and I scarf down our breakfast and meet Sonam and Karma at 7 for our hike up to Tiger’s Nest. To get to the base of our hike, we drive through downtown Paro. We pass fields of rice paddies and rows of apple trees. People are heading to work and children are making their way to school. I’m so excited for the day ahead.

When we get to the basecamp, it’s still foggy but I’m just glad it’s not raining. We say goodbye to Karma and head up the trail. The first half of the trail is muddy and covered with horse manure. Red clay makes up most of the trail and it’s slippery. Visitors have the option of riding horses up to the halfway mark, where the cafe is.

The best thing about being early is the quietness. We only hear the birds chirping, an occasional horse neigh, or a dog barking. I’m sweating and panting from the altitude but, I’m loving every moment. We’re surrounded by an ancient forest of blue pine and rhododendron. Lichens hang off of the trees like a soft green veil. Tiny perfectly formed mushrooms are scattered along the trail. The fog provides a mystical effect, as though I’m in Rivendell and Galadriel will greet us at any moment. I do my best to enjoy the journey and focus less on the destination.

Tiger’s Nest (or more accurately, Tigress Nest) is one of the most sacred pilgrimage sites in the Himalayas. The official name of the monastery is Paro Taktsang. It’s nestled on the edge of a cliff at 9,650 feet. Legend has it that in the 8th century, Guru Rinpoche flew across the mountains on the back of a tigress to defeat an evil monk. He meditated in one of the caves on the cliff and transformed into eight different incarnated forms. The monastery was first built in 1692, destroyed by a fire in 1998, and reopened to the public in 2005.

It takes us two hours to hike up to Tiger’s Nest. When we reach the stairway across from the monastery, the fog still covers it from view. But after a few minutes, it clears and reveals a breathtaking series of temples.

We take our photos from the stairway since we can’t take our cameras into the monastery. Inside, we learn about the statue of Guru Rinpoche that allegedly spoke to the monks. We see up close the Thangka paintings plastered right onto the cliff. I poke my head into the cave where the tigress laid. We walk around the golden stupa. Incense smoke fills the air. A mountain dog rests in the middle of the stone path. Monks walk to and from meditation rooms. I am transported back in time.

The hike down is tougher on our knees and takes us longer since the trail is still slippery. We stop at the cafe for tea and coffee. Sonam shows us the wood-fired oven in the back that’s heating up large pots, giving our tea and coffee a nice smoky flavor. Soon, the cafe becomes crowded with tourists, which is our cue to finish our hike down before the path becomes too busy.

As soon as we drive away from the trail, it starts to rain. It’s been a day of perfect timing.

Lunch is at a nearby farmhouse, where a family has made us a traditional Bhutanese meal. We sit on the floor in one of their many rooms and enjoy milk tea, butter tea, and homemade moonshine (which has a special touch of caterpillar fungus). Steve and I stuff ourselves with the best Bhutanese food we’ve ever had. The family has made everything from scratch, down to the buckwheat noodles and the dumpling wrapper.

Before Sonam and Karma drop us off at the hotel for the day, we swing by an archery field to watch some men practice with their compound bows. They shoot from 100 meters. The distance is so far that I lose sight of the arrow and only know if it’s hit the target by the sound it makes against the wood.

We spend the rest of the evening hanging out at the hotel, exploring the grounds and reflecting on the day.

Our last day in Bhutan is the start of a new month: August 1st. The days fly by faster and faster. We opt out of Chele La Pass due to the overcast weather and choose to hike near the hotel instead.

Behind our hotel is on a steep trail that will lead us back to the National Museum. We hike up and along a cliff, passing through a small temple that’s hidden from plain view by tall pine trees. From the top of the peak, we see both sides of Paro Valley. Since Bhutan is still a developing country in the Western sense, the views we see today and have seen this trip will drastically change over the next few years. More settlements will be built higher up the mountains. Tourists will keep coming and demands of the Bhutanese citizens will continue to grow. Along with modernization and a growing population comes more congestion and plastic waste. But also, hopefully more jobs and cleaner water. For now, I’m trying to soak up as much of the pristine scenery as I can. Sonam seems to know every bird and plant. He points out the berries and mushrooms that are edible. He shows us the chili peppers and peppercorns that grow naturally here. He whistles to let wild animals know we’re near. Hiking with him has been one of my favorite parts of the trip.

For lunch, we ask Sonam to take us to the best momo place in town. We order cheese momos and beef momos, and we try the local sausage. We smother the momos in chili paste - delicious.

After lunch, we visit a local brewery, the one that sells “Bhutanese” beers. The brand is literally “Bhutanese”. Steve tries each of the beers they offer while I read the local magazine. For a moment, I forget I’m in Bhutan. The brewery makes me feel like I’m back home in Chicago.

We ask Sonam to teach us how to play snooker, which is similar to pool. After quickly realizing I’m no good at it, I take a stroll around town while the guys continue playing. We take a break to eat bagthuk, the local noodle dish. Sonam explains that bagthuk is more Tibetan than Bhutanese. Hand cut noodles in a clear tomato broth with pieces of parsley and dried beef. Adding a dash of crushed peppercorns and chili paste rounds out the hearty soup. During our time in Bhutan, we’ve had no shortage of food.

Back at the hotel, out of habit I go downstairs to the gym. After a few minutes of lifting weights, I realize that this is crazy. The hotel sits on 38 acres of the Himalayas. I head outside and hike up the same path we did this morning, except this time I stay within the hotel perimeter. Climbing up the path, I’m panting and sweating within minutes due to the altitude. Mother Nature’s version of the stairmaster. There’s a peace in being so close to nature and I’m instantly grateful I chose to explore the outdoors than be stuck inside a gym. I only hear the sound of birds chirping and raindrops falling on the leaves. I’m completely alone and I love it. Tranquility at its finest.

It’s hard to say goodbye to Bhutan. We grew accustomed to the 5-star hotel life real quick and going home will be a big adjustment for us. What do you mean we won’t have a guide and driver everywhere we go? You mean to tell me my bed doesn’t make itself?

Bhutan gives me hope that people are born inherently good. There is so much goodness in the Bhutanese and so much happiness. The people we talk to have smiles on their faces and a great sense of humor. They seem genuinely content. On our way to Punakha, Sonam pointed out the one of two prisons in the country. This one was for lifers. “You mean, like murderers?” I ask. “Mostly for poachers and people who vandalize temples,” he replies. Crime is rare. It’s the stray dogs you have to watch out for.

I first heard about Bhutan while watching the 2008 Summer Olympics in my college dorm room. NBC featured a female archer from Bhutan. She talked about how much she loved her country and how it emphasized national happiness over profits. I instantly added it to my bucket list. For the past 10 years, Bhutan has felt like a fantasy until Steve and I decided to make the trip happen this year. It’s a magical place that has stolen my heart.

Brushing away tears, I watch the Himalayas become smaller and smaller from my airplane window. Just like that, nine days have flown by and I leave a better person for have visited. To lessen my sadness, I think of ways I can work and live in Bhutan someday. But as with all great things, I realize that it’s better to leave with a fond memory than to overstay a dream.

Kadrin chhey la, Bhutan!

Word Vomit

Sometimes when I get too comfortable in an environment, I let my guard down and say things that come off weird and offensive.

Sometimes I drink too much caffeine and I can’t stop jabbering.

Sometimes I try to be funny and no one gets my jokes but I keep at it, hoping people will catch on.

Sometimes Most times, I write better than I speak.

I am an introvert and sometimes speaking is just hard for me.