Tidrum Nunnery... Dranang Monastery...day hike

When we made it up to the complex itself, we could see that things were battened down fairly tight. We both thought we had seen someone watching us from a window in one of the outer buildings, but heard nothing and saw no movement as we approached. We began to wonder if we had the place all to ourselves. Perhaps whoever was living there was out piling up yak dung, or painting mantras... Moments after we entered this courtyard though, we were hailed by a jolly monk, about our age. He was carrying a large ring of oversized, ancient looking keys. He greeted us and we communicated as best as we all could through the language barrier. Tibetan people laugh often, and this man was one of the giggliest people we had the pleasure to meet. For as giggly as he was, he showed us around the inner chapel, and the smaller but more significant side chapels of the complex with great reverence and pride. The main chapel was small but beautiful, with many colorful and vivid statues, and plenty of butter lamps. The smaller chapels were attached together, and the innermost chapel was tiny... about 4x4. Inside this tiny space was a cave used for meditation by Guru Rimpoche, one of the most revered and respected historic figures/holy men in Tibetan Buddhism. It was quite a powerful little spot. There were only two people residing at this monastery... the jolly monk, and a weathered, leathered old man whose main job seemed to be to keep a giant 10 foot tall prayer wheel spinning eternally. He had built himself a bed in the corner of the wheel room so he could keep the spin going and get a little rest too. Our jolly friend motioned for us to follow him, and we wound up up at his living quarters. This is where we had seen him watching us from below. He led us through his downstairs... loaded with paddies of dried dung, up a narrow ladder and onto his upper balcony, where we were overwhelmed by thick smoke pouring out of his front door and chimney. He motioned for us to enter, and although entering that room engulfed by smoke was nearly unthinkable, I could not deny his hospitality, as he was obviously very happy to have visitors to be able to invite into his home. We entered his room, and through the smoke made out a low bench on the far wall, and a bed by the door/window. I took a spot on the bench and was immediately handed a teacup full of... yep... yak butter tea! I had been waiting in anticipation of this moment for the entire trip!! The butter tea was really quite good... a little salty, a little thick, a little "gamey"... actually the taste I could most compare it to is similar to the way a melted crayon smells.... I enjoyed it, and when he came around with a refill, I did not refuse. Fish did, however, refusing even firsts, using the lame "stomach ache" excuse that every traveler probably pulls. We were also offered some crackers. There was a small stove in the corner of his room from which the smoke was constantly pouring, permeating everything with the heavy, though not necessarily unpleasant scent of burning dung. After my eyes had adjusted to the dark room, I realized the whole wall by the stove was lined with yak dung paddies, stacked from floor to ceiling the entire length. The monk never stopped giggling! He had his own prayer wheel next to his bed, and he had his own unique invention to make his life a little easier. He had attached a cloth strap to the wheel, so he could lay down in his bed and pull the chord to keep the wheel a-spin. He did not want us to take photos of him or his home, and we respected. We also found out that HE was the graffiti artist from down in the gorge. We were honored by his hospitality and kindness. This was a beautiful, pristine and sacred site. What a wonderful man he was...