Weekend Vignette #1: Vodka and the Art of Forest Bathing

I awoke to sunlight pouring through my curtains. Despite a reasonable thickness and a gorgeous solid color, they seem incapable of keeping the light out of my room. No complaints on this day, however, as it was Sunday. This day in Bhutan is a precious one, as it is the only day I have off during the week. Needless to say 6-day work weeks have taken time to adjust to.

I fixed some coffee and drank it slowly as I peered out my window. Another beautiful sunny day. Most days in Mongar are beautiful, mind you, but visibility varies wildly. On mornings like this, I can see row after row of mountains in the distance, which is stunning for both its grandeur and its rarity.

On this particular morning I was bound for Kilikhar. Nakita and I planned to walk up the road without any destination in mind; just wander and take in the beauty of our surroundings. By the time I was ready and willing to walk out the door it was 10 in the morning and I figured hitch-hiking would be the best way up the road.

I’ve never hitch-hiked before. The art is lost in the US, reserved for only the brave, the destitute, the sinister, and those in desperate need of a shower. But here in Bhutan it is a common practice. People are incredibly giving and kind, and that is no generalization; it’s part of their culture. The prospect of picking a stranger up is more out of duty and generating good karma than anything else. So, despite my uncertainties, I was determined to give it a try.

I walked up the road for a few minutes, keeping an eye out for cars. Despite being a national highway it was quiet for some time. The location, however, is perfect as there are no major residences between my location and the next town, so just about anyone would be bound for Kilikhar. After a half a kilometer I decided to just stand and wait it out. From a distance I could hear the sound of an engine. Along came a jeep, following the exaggerated contour of the cliff-hugging road. I squinted my eyes to try to peer inside the vehicle. It looked full, but nevertheless I put my arm out to the side and swiveled my wrist from side to side, feeling a bit unsure of myself. When I made eye contact with the driver he put up his hand in a gesture I did not understand outright, but later came to learn meant the car is full. No problem, I told myself. Someone will come along eventually.

Ten minutes later I had another opportunity. This time a small sedan stopped just past me in the middle of the road. A window rolled down, which was a good sign. Inside sat an older gentleman in his 60’s with two small boys and a heap of groceries. He beckoned me inside to the passenger seat, throwing some items into the back to make room. Success! We spoke for the duration of the drive up. He told me he was a retired official who decided to build a home in Kilikhar, a place called the “White House” because the walls were stark white, a unique choice in contrast to the traditional style homes. I instantly knew the house he spoke of as I had seen it before. It was hard to miss.

Upon arriving in Kilikhar he insisted that I stop in for a drink. It felt an odd request given the fact I was en route to meet someone, but to the Bhutanese a half hour or an hour is nothing in the grand scheme of things. As they say here, we live on BST—Bhutan Stretchable Time—so I agreed and we ascended the stairs to the uppermost level. There he sat me down while he put away the groceries and introduced me to his wife. A minute later he asked if I would like some vodka. At 10:30 in the morning?

So there I was sitting in the penthouse of a recent stranger-turned-friend drinking vodka well before midday. Only in Bhutan can such randomness thrive. We talked for a while until my glass was empty and it seemed an opportune time to depart.

From there I crossed the street to Nakita’s apartment and we spent the day strolling under the sun and wind, taking moments to enjoy the scenery and explore without boundary. We went wherever we felt compelled to walk, crossing through a forest, an old herding trail, by a half-built temple structure, and finally to a chorten, all offering stunning views of the surrounding valley.

Being outside in the splendor of nature felt freeing. It is pleasing to the senses and comforting in some ways. In Japan there is a similar practice called shinrin-yoku, or forest bathing. This is a historical pastime meant to relax the body and mind. Modern studies support the neuro-psychological effects of shinrin-yoku, and it isn’t hard to see why. It puts everything into perspective, especially if you don’t have anywhere you need to be.