Our bedroom has two mattresses on the floor and ornate, traditional colourful paintings on the walls, and is set around the main living area, which has dark, shiny panelled wooden floors and seating around the side. Our hostess cooks us home-made Bhutanese food – chili and potatoes soaked in melted cheese (which we have almost every meal!), red rice and sauteed vegetables and stews. The other guests have meat stew. Our driver and guide stay in the house too.
We drink home-made Arak, a clear, alcoholic drink made from grapes and aniseed, that quickly heats your chest like an internal water bottle and promptly breaks down barriers between the guests, thanks to its high alcohol content. We meet the hostess’s brother and his family, who are also staying the night – he is a senior guard at the fourth King’s palace, his wife is a teacher, they all speak perfect English, especially the children, who are obsessed with Tiktok. They have brought their children to visit the countryside to remind them ‘where they come from’ and to experience running around freely. They ask us if it’s true that English people kick their children out, age 18 and aren’t close to their families? We assure them English people do care deeply about our children, even though we may not want them living at home until they’re 40 – though with the current cost of living crisis, there may be no other option!
The Bhutanese are extremely close knit, young and old live together in many cases and the elderly are revered and cared for by their children.
We all share a bathroom, which could be awkward, but it isn’t, because everyone is so respectful of each other’s space – the three toilets also turn into shower rooms.
However, the walls in the home are thin and the man in the room next to me, a government official, snores so loudly, we may as well have shared a bed. I wake to his dulcet nasal drilling, and the family’s cows mooing outside my window and with a splitting headache from the Arak. My hair smells of turps from the homemade fire. For breakfast, we drink black tea and eat homemade chopped tofu, with chili and salt, on toast and leave early for a trek in the Phobjikha valley, where we walked to the Gangtey Monastery. Passing villages, and the cows which roam freely on the roads throughout the country as do stray dogs. Vehicles are well versed in driving around them.
