It was our first full day in Bhutan, after the excitement of arriving at what is called the world‘s most dangerous airport the day before. Dangerous because the steep Himalayan mountains and the shape of the curving valleys require the plane to make several radical turns before safely touching down. The arrival procedure is so rigorous that it can only be negotiated during the day by specially trained pilots.
Anyway, as I said, it was our first full day, and we took our bus up a side valley to a cluster of houses with an attached temple that clung to the side of a rock cliff far above the cascading rice paddies below. The air was clear and gave spectacular views of forested mountains and occasional farmhouses dotted amidst the giant landscape.
We entered a scene that could justifiably be described as medieval apart from the existence of a few modern conveniences, such as a gas powered husking machine and electric power to the houses. Other than that, the elegantly filigreed woodwork on the three and four story wood and stone houses, the piles of red rice drying in the courtyard, families stacking rice stalks in primitive barns, water trickling from fountains below mountain streams, all arranged themselves to take us back to simpler times.
The national dish of Bhutan, Ema Datshi, is a blend of chili peppers and cheese, and on many of the roofs in the village bright red chilies were drying in picturesque fashion.
Before the temple two statues of Lu, a kind of water spirit or mermaid, stood in a pond. They are guardians of the underworld and keep control over the nagas or serpents that live in the moist, dark places. 
Everything is rich in symbolic meaning in Bhutan and these minor deities represent the gatekeepers or guardians over the subconscious realms. Before a temple can be safely entered, the Lu must be recognized and appreciated. It reminded me of ancient pagan nature spirits in Britain and Ireland, who were later Christianized as Saint Bridget, or the Hindu deity Saraswati, the goddess of pooling water who is the guardian of creativity and the sacred flow of life.
You’re never far from images and symbols in Bhutan: a lion or tiger can appear on a rooftop, a wall could be painted with a protective deity or a phallus representing fertility, potency and long life. 
You can see examples of what I mean in the photos accompanying this blog.
What I want to focus on, though, amid this cornucopia of fancies, is a corner of a living room in one of the farmhouses. You can see it in the photo. Everything from bedroll to backpacks, prayer beads and prayer or mantra book, are neatly and carefully laid out. The bedding is stacked and organized and the carpet and fabrics are clean and colorful. The presentation speaks to the character of the person who sleeps and meditates there. 
He’s a carpenter of Indian ethnicity whether from the Hindu minority of southern Bhutan, or from India itself, I don’t know, who was sawing planks for furniture while we were there. Much of the manual work in Bhutan, like carpentry, road work or building projects is undertaken by Hindus. There is a lot of work to be done. Bhutan is modernizing quickly, though mindfully, with new roads, suburbs in the main cities, and hydroelectric power projects.
This quiet, calm corner though, spoke to me. The bed was simple, the seating just a cushion, and yet it was all that was needed. It reminded me of the back to basics lifestyle I lived on my very first visit to the Himalayas back in the 1970s. It brought me peace.
We were eavesdropping on someone’s private quarters yet I don’t think that he would have minded. He had left his space spotless and in order with nothing to hide.
As we journeyed through Bhutan over the next two weeks, there were many more examples of that seemingly primitive yet elegant simplicity, and many interactions with guileless and spiritual people who were always present to us in ways that are no longer so common in the complicated and fretful west.
On the walk down the hill to our bus we came across an old lady who smiled, bemused, as we passed by, two worlds interacting for a moment in time.