Romantic Escapades: Mr Rajneesh’s Review of Bhutan with Thrillophilia
"Kuzu zangpo la," Mr. Rajneesh said cheerfully as he waved goodbye to his wife when they got out of the cab. She turned her head to look at him.
He smiled and said, "It means hello." Coming up to the trip, he had been reading about Bhutan's culture, food, and even a few Dzongkha phrases for weeks. His wife chuckled softly, finding it funny and charming sudden interest in languages. After years of raising kids and working, the two had finally found time for themselves. Bhutan wasn't just a vacation for them, it was a chance to relax, reconnect, and enjoy a kind of peace that they didn't have in their daily lives.
They picked Thrillophilia to plan their trip, which would last seven days and take them through valleys, monasteries, and mountains. They would take care of everything from flights to local transfers. They didn't have to do anything but pack their bags and carry their excitement.
Phuentsholing was their first taste of life in Bhutan. The Bhutan Gate was tall, and the sunlight made its detailed woodwork shine. The couple didn't hurry inside; instead, they stayed outside and admired the hand-painted details and the peaceful garden next to it. His wife whispered, "It feels like stepping into a storybook." They walked hand in hand, humming old Bollywood songs that brought back memories of when they were younger.
As they drove to Thimphu, clouds floated lazily over the hills, hiding and revealing peaks like kids playing, and the drive itself became a beautiful memory. They shared roasted peanuts, laughed at old jokes, and pointed out houses that looked like they belonged on postcards. His wife put her head on his shoulder and said, "It feels like we're driving into the clouds."
They were surprised by the rhythm of Thimphu. It was the capital, but it was quieter than most cities had been for a long time. They walked through its squares, watched kids play near temples, and heard monks chanting in the distance. At Simply Bhutan, they wore traditional clothes, tried their hand at archery, and even sang along as locals taught them folk songs. When he missed every arrow, his wife laughed, but for her, the experience was more important than the score.
The evenings were slower. From Sangaygang Viewpoint, they watched the sunset cover the valley in gold and the prayer flags fluttering in the wind. He said, "We should have done this years ago." She smiled because she knew exactly what he meant: not just Bhutan, but also taking time for themselves away from their duties and routines.
Paro was the next stop on their trip, where it felt like the air was fresher and the pace was slower. One afternoon, they walked along the banks of the Paro Chhu River, letting the sound of the water drown out everything else. At Bondey, the villagers greeted them with warm smiles and gave them fresh fruits and vegetables and stories about their daily lives. They weren't tourists; they were guests who laughed and spent time with strangers who felt familiar.
But Bhutan really showed itself at the monasteries. Mrs. Rajneesh felt something deep inside her move as she sat on the stone steps of Tamchoe Monastery and listened to the monks chant. "It seems like the world has stopped," she said softly. For her, those monasteries weren't just places of worship; they were places of peace and quiet, where she could be fully present in a way that wasn't possible in her daily life.
Then they climbed to the Tiger's Nest. A lot of people had told them that it would be difficult because of the steep paths, the pine forests, and the thin air. But they went up together, step by step. He told her a joke every time she slowed down to keep her going. She pushed him to keep going every time he stopped. When they got to the monastery on the edge of the cliff, both of them were out of breath and speechless. They felt a sense of accomplishment as they stood there, with clouds passing by and the valley below. It was less about the climb and more about finding their own strength again, together.
The last part of their trip took them through mountain passes and small towns. The wind at Chelela Pass was so strong that it made their cheeks red, but the view of the rolling mountains fading into the horizon made it worth it. She bought wooden masks, delicate jewellery, and handwoven fabrics as gifts in the markets of Phuentsholing. She carefully packed them up and said, "So we can take a little piece of Bhutan home."
Both of them felt heavier than their bags when it was time to leave. Bhutan had given them more than just memories of temples and valleys. It made them remember how much fun it was to walk slowly, laugh for no reason, and just be with each other. He whispered, "Log jay gay, Bhutan", as he looked out the window on the way back. She laughed and squeezed his hand.
Bhutan wasn't just the Land of Happiness for them. It was the place where they had found each other again, not as parents or professionals, but as two people in love who were rediscovering what it was like to be together.
Read More: Thrillophilia Bhutan Reviews