Bhutan: Nabji and Korphu

It was a sunny morning, and although it was cool, one bull seemed to be seeking the shade. Hay was drying on platforms or in trees.

Our first visit, not far from camp, was to the temple dedicated to Guru Rinpoche.

This temple, in addition to holding a teacher's chair, the shrine, and its offerings, encloses a large stone impressed with the thumb- or hand-prints of two kings, and of Guru Rinpoche, who mediated a truce between them.

I should mention the two universal features of temple etiquette. One, take your shoes off. Stocking feet are OK, and I often wore two layers to defeat the chill. Two, photographs are not allowed inside the temple building itself (courtyards are fine).

It turns out that Nabji is within one of the areas of Bhutan for which Google Maps has high-resolution images.

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Here's a good view looking down the valley as we descended towards the river.

Inscribed stones are all that remain of an ancient stupa; little is known about its original location.

Jen found the hollow of this tree to be a perfect fit.

As we hiked down, we were often passed by villagers also on their way to Korphu. A ceremony performed at prescribed intervals for a recently deceased person was taking place at the temple there. Soon we reached the bridge across the Chamkar Chu and reached the other flank of the valley.

It was a steep climb up to Korphu, with plenty of switchbacks. Tsewang did give us opportunies to catch our breath, thankfully. My next photograph is looking uphill into the beginnings of Korphu village.

You may notice the interesting artwork at the first level of the house in front. I've been postponing this topic, but if you're still with me after a week in Bhutan, you're ready. You will see these exuberant phallus paintings on Bhutanese houses; they are commonly considered a sign of protection, derived from the stories of Drukpa Kinley/Kunley, the Divine Madman of the 15th Century, who is supposed to have subdued evil spirits using his phallus as a weapon. Some scholars point out that the phallic presence in Bhutanese culture considerably antedates the Divine Madman. Whatever its origins, it is omnipresent and not pornographic. I leave further exploration of this topic to you and Google; however, more such photos will appear. They are part of the landscape. (We will visit the temple dedicated to the Divine Madman in a few days.)

Another house is decorated with swords of wisdom and the animals of the four directions (snow lion, garuda bird, dragon, and tiger).

Here we are about to enter the 'main street' of Korphu, with the temple courtyard just beyond the portal.

The kids appeared, and we and they had fun with the photos. Jen and Jillian got us started.

Once you've snapped their picture, the kids dash up to see how they look.

Some were sitting on the second level and just watching.

Through the doorway was the courtyard of the temple where the CFMRD (Ceremony for Family Member Recently Departed) was being conducted. We were allowed to peek inside, but there was no photography. After a while we walked down an elevated path on our way to the camp.

The campsite is one more good climb above the actual Korphu townsite. I paused to take a picture looking back, partway up.

And here's multi-level camping, as seen from our tent. For some reason they put Joan and me far away from everybody else ...

After lunch we had time to explore Korphu. On the way down, I made a quick clip of this long column of prayer flags. If you turn your sound way up, you may hear them rustling in the breeze.

Our first stop, if I recall correctly, was the cooking house for the CFMRD. The family of the deceased, as part of sponsoring the ceremony, supplies great quantities of food to the monks and attendees. Here a large sack of rice is being poured into a cauldron of boiling water.

The merit from the generosity of the family is dedicated entirely to the deceased person, benefiting him or her in the next life. I understand that a few of the poorest people in Bhutan, such as the transient road workers, have converted to Christianity to avoid the financial burden of traditional Bhutanese Buddhist ceremonies such as this.

Next we visited the house of our local Korphu guide, Karma. We took off our shoes, sat down, and were offered ara. This was, I should note, our second encounter with ara, distilled liquor, or, having grown up in Tennessee, what I would call moonshine or white lightning. We had sipped at our first cup last night after dinner, in Nabji camp, and been introduced to ara etiquette. You always appear take a sip or three, but it isn't necessary to actually drink if you don't want to -- going through the motions to be polite is good. Being cautious Westerners, if the cup looks like it had water of unknown provenance sitting in the bottom as the ara was poured, we would not ingest. At Nabji camp and here at Karma's house, we did ingest, and everything was fine. Also, you always allow the host to add a second splash to the cup, even if you aren't really drinking. And at Nabji camp we learned that -- at least for informal campfire drinking -- one is supposed to come up with a one-word description after the first sip, such as "sweet" or "strong" or "bitter." Traditionally, the word you utter describes the housewife who brewed the stuff. I did find that ara was smoother than the white lightnin' I remember. It can be made from anything fermentable; grains or fruits are often used.

After leaving Karma's house we paused in the temple courtyard, and encountered a fellow who conversed earnestly with Tsewang. Soon we were headed down the block to his house for snacks (the Bhutanese equivalent of nuts and chips) and, yes, ara. Monks were at work creating tormas (elaborate sculptures of flour, butter, and coloring) in preparation for a house blessing to be held tomorrow. It turns out that our gentleman host was a previous headman of Korphu village who now lived in Trongsa. He and every family member who possibly could came back to the old family home in Korphu to host an annual blessing ceremony, usually held during the slow winter season. This is a strong tradition all over Bhutan. In his front yard a musical instrument for tomorrow was propped up against the fence.

After this visit, it was time to hike back up to camp and have supper. The clouds that had built up over the mountains every afternoon had gotten even thicker today, and while supper was being prepared, a gentle rain began to fall. It did not interfere with dinner, nor, as it continued to soften, with another wonderful facet of our Korphu experience. A dozen or so young ladies from the village came to the campsite, wearing their good kiras and, by firelight, began to perform several traditional songs and dances. The rain stopped. After several dances they urged us to join them, and even to a dancing-impaired person (me) it was clear that participating was the thing to do. It was tough to follow the dance steps, even though they were not complicated, because I couldn't see their feet. The kiras obscured the only clues for us novices! At one point, the girls suggested that we show them a dance. Here I must give credit to Jim and Jillian, as Joan and I were drawing a blank: we did the hokey-pokey, most assuredly not a folk dance, but fascinating and amusing to our dancers.

Then, it was time to retire. It was Christmas Eve.