A Pilgrimage in Bhutan
The Cliffside Monastery
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The wind howled through the Paro Valley as I laced up my boots, the thin mountain air biting at my lungs. I’d come to Bhutan for a solo travel journey, chasing something deeper than postcards—a spiritual reset amid the Himalayas. The trail to Paro Taktsang, the Tiger’s Nest Monastery, stretched ahead, a steep zigzag of stone steps and prayer flags fluttering like whispers. My pack was light, a budget travel essential, stuffed with just a water bottle, a journal, and a few protein bars. As I climbed, the valley unfolded below, green and gold, and I wondered: Can a mountain strip you down to your core?
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I’d landed in Paro a week earlier, a tiny airport where yaks sometimes wandered the runway. Bhutan’s no budget travel secret—entry fees keep it exclusive—but I’d scored a guesthouse for cheap, bartering with a grin and some broken Dzongkha I’d picked up. The locals were warm, their faces creased with smiles, and I spent days wandering markets, sketching chilies and prayer wheels. But the monastery was the goal, a 10,000-foot adventure travel test. The climb took hours, my calves screaming, but each step felt like shedding something—stress, noise, the weight of home.
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Reaching the top was surreal—the monastery clung to the rock like it grew there, its golden roof glinting. Inside, monks moved silently, and I sat cross-legged, the hum of their prayers vibrating through me. I scribbled in my journal: This is peace, raw and real. Later, I stood on the ledge, the drop dizzying, and felt small but alive. Bhutan was teaching me solitude’s strength, and as I descended, the valley’s quiet stayed with me.
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