The farmer’s market is alight with colorful produce hidden under gray awnings that Claudia and I must be mindful. At 5’ 9”, we have almost 4” on most Bhutanese we have met or seen. We spy a gray kitten darting between the wood cabinets, as dogs lay about in the streets and the random cow crosses the street without looking.
The stalls overflow with peppercorns and coriander, assorted shades of red hot chilis, strings of dried Yak cheese, string beans, organic bananas, bitter melon. A neighboring stall offers spices and tea, packets of saffron ($.75 each!), incense sticks and powder prepared by neighboring monasteries, and Himalayan salt. And did I mention peppers?