I closed my eyes for a moment and swore I heard the plane's wing tips brushing the pine trees. (If you're an "Airplane!" fan, you'd say "Well, I guess I picked the wrong week to give up aisle seats!")
When the plane is a commercial Airbus, that's not much room for error, but the Druk Air Royal Bhutan Airline pilots must pretend they're Star Wars Jedi knights by the way they wig-wagged the plane's wings to fit through the narrow and twisting canyon that was our flight path. It worked, but we didn't have much room left at the end of the runway. As pilots always say, however, any landing you walk away from is a good landing.
I haven't had time to tell you much about Bhutan, so let me backtrack a little ... and that really WAS an impressive way to enter the country.
The roads are nearly as harrowing as our flight in, and I know people who'd have been screaming the whole way. Remember, I am in the Himalayas, and they ain't short hills: They are towering mountains now sharply cut in a V by swift rivers, and that means steep drop-offs, the kind where you occasionally read about a bus plunging off the side with 50 locals inside, 30 locals clinging onto the top and two Americans. (Carole and I are traveling as a group of two with a guide and the driver, so at least I have some control because these guys want us alive for their tips at the end of our tour.)
Our guide is a 21-year-old Bhutanese who is like a mother hen. He insisted that warm-blooded Carole (from Pennsylvania) wear a jacket to go to the Internet place just now, and he hovers over us. I know he is trying to be responsible, and he likes being responsible, but we want to cuff his ear and inform him that we each have traveled the world several times over --- and alone --- without his kindly supervision.
By the way, here are some travel axioms I've lived:
When the plane is a commercial Airbus, that's not much room for error, but the Druk Air Royal Bhutan Airline pilots must pretend they're Star Wars Jedi knights by the way they wig-wagged the plane's wings to fit through the narrow and twisting canyon that was our flight path. It worked, but we didn't have much room left at the end of the runway. As pilots always say, however, any landing you walk away from is a good landing.
I haven't had time to tell you much about Bhutan, so let me backtrack a little ... and that really WAS an impressive way to enter the country.
The roads are nearly as harrowing as our flight in, and I know people who'd have been screaming the whole way. Remember, I am in the Himalayas, and they ain't short hills: They are towering mountains now sharply cut in a V by swift rivers, and that means steep drop-offs, the kind where you occasionally read about a bus plunging off the side with 50 locals inside, 30 locals clinging onto the top and two Americans. (Carole and I are traveling as a group of two with a guide and the driver, so at least I have some control because these guys want us alive for their tips at the end of our tour.)
Our guide is a 21-year-old Bhutanese who is like a mother hen. He insisted that warm-blooded Carole (from Pennsylvania) wear a jacket to go to the Internet place just now, and he hovers over us. I know he is trying to be responsible, and he likes being responsible, but we want to cuff his ear and inform him that we each have traveled the world several times over --- and alone --- without his kindly supervision.
By the way, here are some travel axioms I've lived:
* You know you've been gone a long time when the local language sounds familiar. During my last taxi ride in Nepal, I thought the radio announcer was speaking in Spanish and that I understood it.
*You know you're in a developing nation when diarrhea control is an acceptable --- and eagerly discussed --- dinner topic.
*You know you're in a developing nation when your air traffic control tower is a hut on stilts. (It was made of pine here in Bhutan; bamboo in Peru.)
*You know you're in a developing nation when your airport's name is spray-painted on the side of the ticket sales booth.
More later; my Internet time is over and our flock is going to be rounded up to return to the roost!
P.S. Tomorrow we are going to "The Tiger's Nest," the misty photo of an earlier entry.
More later; my Internet time is over and our flock is going to be rounded up to return to the roost!
P.S. Tomorrow we are going to "The Tiger's Nest," the misty photo of an earlier entry.
2 comments:
Oh! I enjoyed this "E-Ticket" posting.
I can visualize all the experiences that you and your friend Carol are experiencing And I thought a monkey running up and down the aisle on a Peru flight was exciting.
Keep writing, it gives the readers so much pleasure.
The airplane story reminds me of the time I was traveling to Cape Canaveral. We had left Los Angeles in the morning and about the time we were over the Arizona/New Mexico border a man on our flight told the stewardess that he thought he was having a heart attack.
It was quite a roller coaster ride coming down as the pilot was determined that the guy was not going to die (too much paperwork) on his plane. Probably 30 degrees of flaps and idle power! Still too high on approach for Albuquerque so he rolls into a 30-45 deg banked turn to lose additional altitude. I, having had some flight training, was not concerned about these maneuvers, but they sure got a rise out of the other passengers!
Well, we made it and so did he. Ambulance on the tarmac and off to ICU.
I know other folks use their space to compliment you sis on your adventures but then I told you that before you left so this is a story for you.
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