A Journey Beyond the Screen: Krishna’s Thrillophilia Trip to Bhutan

I’m not usually the type of person who enjoys taking vacations. As a software engineer, my life revolves around computers, coding, and meeting deadlines. The thought of stepping away from my work and taking time off never appealed to me. 

So when I received a message one evening from her—inviting me on a surprise trip to Bhutan—I said yes. 

Maybe I was just ready for something different. Or maybe, deep down, I needed a change.

Before this trip, I had never really thought about Bhutan. I had heard the typical things, of course—beautiful landscapes, peaceful monasteries, and a calm atmosphere. But when you’re so wrapped up in lines of code and the rush of office life, places like Bhutan feel like distant dreams. 

They seem unreachable. But here I was, packing my bags, ready to leave behind my predictable routine and head for the unknown.

The moment we landed in Paro, I felt something shift within me. As we stepped outside, I could see the massive, jagged mountains in the distance, their snowy caps visible against the clear blue sky. 

It didn’t look real. It felt like a dream.

There was something about the stillness of the place that made me feel instantly at peace. The air was so pure, the atmosphere so calm, it was like the world had slowed down just for us. 

Thimphu, the capital, was a beautiful blend of the old and the new. The streets were lined with traditional Bhutanese buildings made of wood, with intricate carvings and prayer flags fluttering in the wind. But it wasn’t stuck in the past; modern cafes and tech hubs dotted the streets as well. 

As we wandered through the city, we visited monasteries, temples, and local landmarks. I remember standing at the Tashichho Dzong, a massive fortress that seemed to rise from the earth itself. 

We spent hours there, walking through the corridors and admiring the stunning architecture. Time seemed to move slowly here, in the best way possible. There were no schedules, no rush—just the beauty of the place to absorb.

“You’re quiet today,” she remarked as I stood looking at the golden roofs.

I glanced at her, still taking in the sight. “I’m just... taking it all in,” I said.

Her smile was gentle. “It’s not just the view, is it?”

I paused. She was right. It wasn’t just the view that was so mesmerizing. There was a stillness in the air, a feeling of calm that I hadn’t experienced in years.

The next day, we set out for the famous Tiger’s Nest Monastery. It was perched high on a cliff, and everyone told me it was one of the most breathtaking places in the country. I had no idea what I was in for.

The hike up was challenging, to say the least. The air was thin, the incline steep, and my legs burned with every step. But every time I looked around, the view made it all worth it. 

As we climbed higher, I couldn’t help but feel humbled by the power and majesty of the mountains.

When we finally reached the monastery, it was everything I had imagined—and more. It sat like an ancient guardian on the side of the cliff, its golden spires shining in the sunlight. The view from the top was unbelievable. I stood there, taking in the vastness of the valley below. I had seen photos of places like this before, but nothing could compare to the reality of being there.

We rested on the monastery terrace, looking out over the valley. She turned to me with a playful smile. “So, Krishna, what’s your biggest fear?”

I wasn’t prepared for that. The question caught me off guard. But something about the peaceful surroundings made it easier to open up.

“I guess... not being enough,” I said, after thinking for a moment. “In my work, my relationships, with myself. I’m always chasing more. It never feels like I’ve done enough.”

She nodded, her expression understanding. “I get that. But here’s the thing: It’s not about doing more. It’s about being. Being here, right now. Being with the people you care about. That’s enough.”

Her words hit me harder than I expected. I had always believed that my worth was tied to what I could accomplish, and to how much I could achieve. But at that moment, I realised she was right. It wasn’t about constantly striving.

The rest of the trip was a blur of stunning landscapes, delicious food, and heartfelt conversations. We explored more monasteries, hiked through forests, and visited colourful local markets. 

The Bhutanese food was incredible—spicy chillies and cheese in every dish, and I loved every bite. But more than the food, more than the scenery, it was the way the people lived that impressed me. 

There was a simplicity to life here that I had never encountered before. People seemed content with what they had, and that was something I hadn’t really understood until now.

One afternoon, we sat by a river, the sound of the water flowing peacefully beside us. The quiet was almost therapeutic, and I felt a sense of calm that I hadn’t experienced in years.

“Do you think this trip has changed you?” she asked, her voice soft.

I thought about it. The Krishna who had arrived in Bhutan was someone who was always thinking about the next deadline, the next project. But now, I wasn’t thinking about the next thing. I was just... here.

“I think it has,” I said, smiling for the first time in a long while. “I’m learning that I don’t need to constantly chase after more. I can just... be. And that’s enough.”

Read more: Thrillophilia Bhutan Reviews