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We leave after a small lie-in and head to Thimphu, the capital of this magnificent country. The road is in a surprisingly good state, mainly considering the sheer drops of the valley. It is a huge engineering achievement. The ride is pleasant if at time a little stomach tightening. The journey takes approximately one and a half hours, filled with amazement at the countryside and fear of the other trucks (however nicely decorated they are).
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Thimphu is not a rip-roaring metropolis but it has roads and roundabouts (where policemen direct traffic with wonderfully flowing arm movements, as if they are doing Tai-Chi). It is said to be the only capital in the world without traffic lights. To be fair, there is hardly the need for it: there are two "important" road junctions in the city, both with a police booth in the middle directing traffic until 18:00 at which point the traffic is left to sort itself out.
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Thimpu, Friday the 5th of August

Degrubenc
2005-12-09 17:54:28

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spit out the crimson red spit, which quickly accumulates in the mouth. The locals manage to perform this with skill, a quick spit landing about a meter away, when I try it but only succeed to dribble on my shirt and spit on my shoes, to the greatest amusement of the locals of course. After this great shame I must give up doing it in public but try at home.

So far all my meals have been taken at the hotel where "special tourist" dishes are prepared, the only problem with that system is that the meals are bland, repetitive and have nothing in common with typical Bhutanese fare. In the evening, I bugged Mr Nice into taking me to a happening swanky restaurant in Thimphu. He duly obliged and took me to the restaurant held by his brother's wife sister's daughter’s husband or something of the sort. The restaurant consisted of a few dirty plastic chairs on the pavement with a billiard table covered in a plank of wood also serving the purposes of a dining table. The food was brought. I started to fear for my health, everything was covered in Chillies, they even ate chilly as a vegetable, forget seasoning, it was eaten raw, fried, steamed like a carrot. I decided to keep myself safe and try the least lethal looking dish, cheese and chilly seemed to be a viable option. I tried a large mouthful, thought at first that it was bearable, then suddenly it happened, steam came out of my ears, I changed colour three times in 2 minutes and started running around begging for someone to put me off my misery, Mr Nice gave me red rice, (a typical Bhutanese kind of rice) and I ate it in handfuls with my nose stuck deep in the rice bowl. It barely helped. Once the ordeal was over, I was drenched in sweat struggling to talk, my mouth had gone numb.

The afternoon was spent visiting Thimphu, the telecom tower from which there is a vast view over the capital. We saw a few Takins, they are strange animal only found in Bhutan and have since become the national animal. They look like a mix between an antelope and a yak, a most bizarre result. Sadly the main fortress and monastery are closed to the public and can only be admired from the outside. We visited a small nunnery and had tea with the head nun, she told me in an enigmatic smile that the last Belgians to come through left 5000USD donation, a thick silence ensued, she then tried again by stating that Belgians are most generous, I made appreciative noises, patted the few dogs about the place, fed a few and left with a big wave and a sad smile.

Later on in the afternoon we visited the textile museum, the national Library, the Tashichho Dzong, a Tangka painting factory, a wood carving factory, a weaving manufacture and a doll-making factory. All most interesting and like everything else in Bhutan it is all done in the traditional ways used by the ancestors, everything is done by hand without help from machinery or electricity, It was a pleasant change to notice that for once all those factory tours are not followed by a stop at the factory souvenir shop. The evening meal was a challenge. I had formed blisters on my lips and tongue from the lunch and barely managed to eat my rice.

To make up for it Mr Nice took me to the party in town, it was two doors down from the lunchtime restaurant and had a similar set up. The planks covering the billiard tables were removed and the locals played admirably well. It was a pleasant quiet evening, playing billiard, watching the cows go by and drinking a local beer. At night those nice sweet puppy eyed little dogs seen everywhere in the streets become enraged monsters and bark at each other as if to signify the end of days.