Ura Village Documentation- Part I
Part I-Remembering Dawa the stray dog
Picture Courtesy: Sonam Dorji
A story of a stray dog in Bhutan by Kuenzang Choden narrates his journey to Bumthang, east from Thimphu, which is now twelve hours of bus ride accompanied by backache and dusty air due to the road extension work. In that story, Dawa, the dog travels to Bumthang upon hearing of a place where he can cure his mange. His gift of understanding human language directs him to his destination where he explores places on the way. Such was the experience of my travel to Bumthang last week. Travelling with eighteen other friends who were new to Bumthang made me feel new in the place I grew up. I realized there was so much I didn’t know, so much of amazing things I missed even though I lived there. So for one week, I was a tourist in my own home.
It started right from our departure from the college. I could feel the air in the bus growing thicker with excitement as it accelerated up the gentle slope towards Sorchen. It was the first time I travelled with my classmates-a bus of seventeen architects(in making), all curious and excited about the journey. Our gazes went through the windows at the changing line of vegetation as we climbed higher and the debates about the names of the trees were endless. I could name only a few.
I had this funny feeling in the bus about how I was one of the nerdy students who talked about the load an excavator can carry. And also, architects aren’t nerds. We are artistic engineers, although we are often mocked with our meagre mathematics. But hey, we can build out of wastes and turn them into paradise. So yay.
At the end of our road waited sixty traditional houses of Ura to be studied and drawn on our grids within five days.The beautiful village of Marong beamed in its own glow as we drove along the broad curvy road. Nothing pleased me more than the sight of a beautiful stream snaking along the hip of the valley and I could imagine how cold it would’ve been. We took out our phones and cameras and already filled up our galleries.
Our selfies reflected the energy and determination we had sowed in working hard on the documentation. I was ready to feel my measuring tapes on the thick mud walls.
Picture Courtesy: Sonam Dorji
A story of a stray dog in Bhutan by Kuenzang Choden narrates his journey to Bumthang, east from Thimphu, which is now twelve hours of bus ride accompanied by backache and dusty air due to the road extension work. In that story, Dawa, the dog travels to Bumthang upon hearing of a place where he can cure his mange. His gift of understanding human language directs him to his destination where he explores places on the way. Such was the experience of my travel to Bumthang last week. Travelling with eighteen other friends who were new to Bumthang made me feel new in the place I grew up. I realized there was so much I didn’t know, so much of amazing things I missed even though I lived there. So for one week, I was a tourist in my own home.
It started right from our departure from the college. I could feel the air in the bus growing thicker with excitement as it accelerated up the gentle slope towards Sorchen. It was the first time I travelled with my classmates-a bus of seventeen architects(in making), all curious and excited about the journey. Our gazes went through the windows at the changing line of vegetation as we climbed higher and the debates about the names of the trees were endless. I could name only a few.
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| A quick visit to Jakar Dzong |
I had this funny feeling in the bus about how I was one of the nerdy students who talked about the load an excavator can carry. And also, architects aren’t nerds. We are artistic engineers, although we are often mocked with our meagre mathematics. But hey, we can build out of wastes and turn them into paradise. So yay.
 |
| Wangdicholing Palace |
At the end of our road waited sixty traditional houses of Ura to be studied and drawn on our grids within five days.The beautiful village of Marong beamed in its own glow as we drove along the broad curvy road. Nothing pleased me more than the sight of a beautiful stream snaking along the hip of the valley and I could imagine how cold it would’ve been. We took out our phones and cameras and already filled up our galleries.
 |
| The Lhakhang in Marong, Ura |
Our selfies reflected the energy and determination we had sowed in working hard on the documentation. I was ready to feel my measuring tapes on the thick mud walls.
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