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We introduced ourselves and he asked where we were from. The monks were performing a ritual, but were shortly quiet again.One of them seemed uncertain about his duties, and an older monk was instructing him on the specifics of placing the offering before the altar. We got the requisite “look at the giant” smiles as we slipped back out.
We were soaking up the whole thing; our second to last real day in Bhutan, the view of the Himalayan “foothills”, the bright blue sky, the green trees and brown rice paddies, standing atop a great religious site in the heart of the nation that invented the idea of “Gross National Happiness” when the monk's cell phone rang.An hour ago we were taking photos of a young man as he adjusted the yoke on his oxen; knee deep in the rice paddy.Ten seconds earlier the red-robed monk was answering our questions in the near-whisper of a tenant of holy places.He was still entitled to a special colored sash, but could no longer wear the ceremonial sword of office.By chance we were there at the same time as a former High Lama of Bhutan, with whom we shook hands (Tashi got a blessing). In his entourage were the three folks from Taiwan we met at Jack and Kharma's. Back in Punakha town itself we briefly stuck our heads in at another temple.
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