A Private View of a Sacred Place… notes by Roger Beaumont
This year’s monsoon eventually became another form of silence. The air was so damp that fish could have come in through the doors and swum out of the windows, floating through the atmosphere of the rooms. I considered it a ”civilised” monsoon, as it mostly rained at night.
For the visitor, it would be perfectly understandable not to realise that the steep-hilled jungles of southern Bhutan are some of the most drenched on earth. Just over 60 feet of water once fell in Cherrapunji, just a few miles away in neighbouring Assam. Thirty nine feet is the average over three months. Enough to submerge a four-storey house. And what does all this rain do to a mountainous country? It provides good harvests and countless rock slides. Massive boulders are dislodged; blocking roads, splintering trees, or somehow rolling precisely into the middle of the road, so everyone can drive around them. Like tourist attractions.