Two friends of mine are out of the country. It’s a very exotic vacation to India and now Bhutan. She’s been sending emails. He’s been taking photos.
I am loving their vacation. Being there would be better, but this is pretty good. They are living a dream.
30 years ago, before Bhutan was open to the west, I saw a National Geographic photo of that monastery, perched precariously on the side of a mountain, and made up my mind to get there some day. That day is supposed to be tomorrow….the last excursion to wrap up the trip. We will see what happens.
That was written yesterday. Well, yesterday to me. They’re 10 1/2 time zones away. Day and night become a jumble.
It’s snowing in Paro, Bhutan as I type. Just light snow. It’s a steep climb to Tiger’s Nest. Light snow might be too much.
Until they went I didn’t know about Tiger’s Nest, but I did know about Paro’s airport. It’s one of a handful of most dangerous airports in the world. There are dozens of YouTube videos showing airplanes on approach. Getting there involves threading the needle through narrow gorges and mountain passes.
We had our second Skype session tonight. Late afternoon for them. Middle-of-the-night for me. We chatted like we were in the same room, though nearly 7,900 miles apart.
The conversation ended when their hotel suffered a power failure. Some things remain rooted in the past.
I never saw this day coming, where distance isn’t a barrier to communicating. It’s like science fiction, except it’s not.