We wake up to the sun. It rises over the jagged mountains and casts its golden glow over the rolling hills. It illuminates the neat patches of farmland that jigsaw their way across the valley and it cascades its warm hues over the white prayer flags that billow in the soft breeze. This is the view that we have gotten used to. This is the view that we dread leaving behind.
With less than a week before we return to our respected countries, our hearts have grown heavy with the weight of wanting to remember. Each delicate painting on the wall of a dzong, each colorful flower dotting the landscape, each welcome scent of lemongrass or campfire smoke—we beg our minds to absorb each detail and memorize each intricacy. We cannot get enough of the unique and magical world around us: the world that is so vastly different from our own.
Amongst infinite memories, sceneries, and faces that will mark our time in Bhutan, several experiences stand out. We will remember hiking through the dense forest in the rain, our limbs and joints aching but our eyes lighting up at the indescribable beauty around us. We will remember exploring the dzongs, studying each painting, perhaps being blessed with a drop or two of jasmine scented water. We will remember cooking momos in town, chopping the vegetables and trying to fold the dough just right. We will remember the smiling faces of the Bhutanese people that we met, who allowed us to share their home and create a home for ourselves. We will remember sitting around a bonfire, the flickering flames reflecting in the eyes of the people who have become our family.
We go to sleep with the sun. It sets over the towering Himalayas, casting a cooling shadow over the rolling pastures and fearsome mountainside. This is the view that we have gotten used to. This is the view that we dread leaving behind. This is the view that we will never forget.