By telling us your country of residence we are able to provide you with the most relevant travel insurance information.
Please note that not all content is translated or available to residents of all countries. Contact us for full details.
Shares
While I waited for the winter to go a little easy on us, the mountains in Darjeeling, my hometown just didn't give those signs. It was one of those days when it struck me. A solo backpacking trip to Bhutan. Without much delay I impulsively set off for the journey the following day. One of the most radical decisions I had ever made. Without knowing anything much about Bhutan, I found myself almost near the India - Bhutan border the next moment. While on the journey, I tried to network with a long lost school friend of mine Sonam Tobgay (lovingly called Tobgay), knowing well enough that no one would instantly reply to a message on facebook. Once I reached Phuentsholing, I was enlightened by the border police there that I'd require a travel permit to go further into Bhutan or else I have to find my way back home. I went to the permit office and then I discovered that its more difficult for a solo traveller to get a travel permit than those travelling with a band of folks. Basically I was denied. There were two way out from this problem: either I could wait outside the office, tag along with a travelling group and make my way into the country or have someone from Bhutan invite me over. The luck was not at my favour for both of the ways until just when my long lost friend, Tobgay replied to me. That was when it all changed. He sent an invitation email and there I was was - in a van that was now ready to head inside the Land of the Thunder Dragon. With almost five hours of journey through the mountains, I dropped at a departmental store along the highway where Tobgay would come and pick me. He was already there. The moment I met him, I was overwhelmed by nostalgia. He seemed to have been too. For the next week he sheltered me at his home. Ate traditional cuisines made by his loving mother everyday with "suja" (butter tea) at the end of each meal. During the stay there, we visited the famous Taksang Monastry (Tiger's nest) dressed as nationals where we greeted almost all the monks with the only words I had learned - "Kuzuzangpo La!" (hello!) and were greeted back with almost double the love. One day, we went cycling to a hilltop at Thimphu. However, having started terribly late for the tour, returning home in the total darkness was an adventure of its own kind. We met some locals there who shared with us the story behind the abundant sale of wooden phalluses in the handicraft markets there. We also danced at traditional bhutanese songs after listening to a night full of folklore. With so much happening, I had lost the track of time only to discover that the following day was the day i'd be travelling back home. It was in the dancing, the singing, the cautious cycling at night, the "Kuzuzangpo La!" followed by a series of laughter, the buttery aftertaste of drinking "suja", the kindness of Tobgay and his mother that I found myself in. I found a home away from home in between those endless majestic mountains, which resembled the mountains back in my own hometown. A goodbye is not what I said to Bhutan on my way back, for it was now my home and its only a matter of time until I return.