The road to Kichu Lakhang twisted like a mantra spoken through mountains. ⛰️ I walked for a long time until a taxi 🚕 gave me a fair deal. “I live in Thimphu. I’m not a tourist.”
Time slowed as I stepped into its embrace—old white stone walls breathing stories, prayer wheels spinning whispers of faith.
Built by Tibet’s Songtsen Gampo in the 7th century to pin down a demoness of chaos, this was no mere monastery; it was a map of devotion. I learned that in the book I’m reading on The History of Bhutan.
The air, thick with incense, carried echoes of a thousand pilgrim footsteps, and I stood still, lost in the rhythm of ancient chants, the pulse of eternity beating in this sacred heart of Bhutan. 🇧🇹
