[Post-Edit Note: All pictures and written content in this post was originally created in 2018, unless otherwise credited.]

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I used to dream of a life lived in a world so remote and cut off from the electric grid, where land is vast and people are sparse; and you get to have the luxury of time to indulge in superfluous Hygge stuff like reading books and arranging flowers and sieving powdered sugar on top of your lemon bars. And then I ended up in Haa.

And now I’ve learnt, you have to be careful what you wish for.

But first.

I think I can safely say, Chelela Pass is singularly the best place I visited in all my days in Bhutan, but please don’t quote me on that because it is literally a pass and you’re not exactly going to get anything more than that. There is a food truck and you can grab something hot or a snack; but you most likely won’t dwell more than 30 minutes here, so like I said, not exactly a life-changing attraction of sorts.

At 12,000 feet above sea level, Chelela Pass is the highest motor road in the country, and it parades that accomplishment by being one hell of a drive to get to. Between the sudden altitude spike and falling temperatures you will most probably develop some sort of travel nausea at some point – so, I don’t know, look out the window, close your eyes, or claim shotgun when you’re on the way up (and down). Any one of these usually work for me so I’m assuming at least something will work for you too.

In case you’re wondering why then this somehow still managed to leave a mark on me, it’s because of the blistering cold (8°C when I was there, but it can drop to -3°C if you’re lucky) and the crazy amount of flags and the… air, and how much it all came together to remind me of Nepal.

Now, I clearly miss Nepal the way Britney Spears misses Justin Timberlake (where it’s been almost two decades and you’re making like you’ve moved on and you have moved on, except, every time Justin/Nepal is mentioned, something gives way – a twitch in the eye, a fall of a smile, a sudden tremble in the voice – and you know, you know, that this is quite possibly the one thing you’ll never get over no matter how long you live); and so in a way, as inconsequential as this place may seem to the ordinary passer-by, somehow it was the ultimate peak of my Bhutan trip.

Aside, if there is any disclaimer I can add to this, it’s that I’m saying this is the best place I’ve been in Bhutan, not that it’s the best place to be in Bhutan.

Fun fact about these white pointy prayer flags; people plant 108 of them in the name of a particular deceased person when they die; and it’s most typically executed by their family members because – well, who else will? You have to walk with these 108 flags and try to make it as high up as you can because it is believed that the wind will broadcast the prayers and mantras printed on the flags – and therefore, scientifically speaking, the higher you are, the further these prayers spread.

It’s not compulsory of course (otherwise I believe there will be no walking space left in the country); and I suppose they honour this custom only for the really elder ones in the family or just the well-respected; but once again of course, do not quote me on that.

Meet my guide, Sherab, who has a patience greater than a hundred mountains because for seven full days, he had to put up with – on top of everything else:
1) Lots of awkward silence
2) My constant disappearance
3) Non-stop delays from stopping to pat dogs
4) Politically incorrect questions like, “So what’s the crime rate like here?”
6) My refusal to stop for food.

Tashidelek, Sherab.

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Moving on to Haa.

I think it is very obvious from the lack of photos that I really… don’t… 

Okay I refrain from throwing shade at any foreign land about 99% of the time, and I’m not ready to make this that 1% of the other time – especially because Bhutan has done absolutely nothing to deserve my crude acrid nastiness. Let’s try this again.

Haa is an extraordinarily sleepy town with a kind of timeless character that blankets its quiet streets in the most effervescent of ways. It is one of the smallest districts in the country, and its thinly populated community lends a wonderfully provincial air to its quaint, untainted atmosphere.

Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it.

Most people come to Haa as part of a day trip from Paro; but things might be starting to change because more lodges and restaurants are starting to sprout in the region as we speak. For most part, you’ll likely be brought to the Haa monastery followed by a short walk around the town centre; but other than that, there isn’t quite much else to do here.

It’s no epicentre – but there is a resolute beauty in Haa’s smallness. This is a gentle little town of moderate hills, gentle valleys, and buildings carrying the same striking architectural details as the rest of the country; and while simplistic in landscape and offerings, can nonetheless be an experience to traverse.

As you can tell, Day 5 was no ground breaker, but if there is anything I can say about this day, it’s that it was the first time in the longest while I finally got to close at least 50 of the 100 tabs that I have open in my mind always.

Cheers to you for accomplishing the impossible, Haa.