Thoughts and Transitions

I have been saying goodbye for two weeks and am now on the plane to Bangkok.

Dawa Dem called me as I was taxiing to the runway, for about the fifth time in two days. I almost had tears, but the last few days have been so wonderfully fulfilling and peaceful that I am content. It was moving to fly away from the great snowcapped peaks of the Himalaya. Yes I saw Jomolhari. Kanchenjunga and Everest.

Transitions were marked by the contrasts between the world of the Bhutanese, that I stepped into for a year, and the world I am returning to. Exaggerated by my stay in fancy hotels with my sister. It was a fantastic way to ease my leaving.

The day I visited Palden's house the contrast seemed rude to me. I felt overly privileged and warm. Even though the interior of the traditional home was warmed by a wood fire and body heat, I felt the chill of the mountain air through my pampered bones. I invited Palden and Chencho to dinner at the Gangtey Palace, a local historical building where they had never stepped foot. I knew they would be uncomfortable, but we talked about it and how I wanted them to see my world too. The hot shower, the warm luxurious room and the meal. They felt odd not bringing anything to dinner as Bhutanese always bring something for the host. It was really fun and they both enjoyed it. It was the deepest feeling of goodbye yet as I watched them walk away. I do not think the image will leave me.

Luckily I knew I would see Chencho after Christmas. She invited me to her family's village up the mountain. Her cousin drove me to the end of the farm road, then she, her brother and I walked up for another hour. The village is mostly in ruin. There are two standing houses and a new Lakhang is being built about a kilometre from her home. The traditional house was left empty for a number of years. Urbanization. Her parents built a home in the valley in order to make it easier for the younger children to attend school. Once the oldest siblings were established and the younger ones could live with them, her parents returned to the property on the mountain. Other homes had been emptied, abandoned and fallen to ruin. Theirs had been padlocked. Unfortunately thieves and vandals had gone to work. The canvas paintings of the altar were stripped off the walls, the floorboards torn up and everything that could be carried had been taken away. At the same time her parents were moving up the mountain, the earthquake hit and damaged the home. Her father is an established carpenter and home builder and wanted to take the old house down and build another one. However the astrologer told them it was too important a home and had to be left standing so everyone could come there for the annual puja to be blessed. They are slowly reconstructing the building, but currently can only use two rooms. Her father has built temporary sheds in case of another earthquake.

As we were walking I asked Chencho what she had been doing up there since school finished. “Basking in the sun, finding peace.” It was the most peaceful place I have spent time during my year in Bhutan. The view out one window is Jomolhari, out the opposite side Chelila Pass.  The front window overlooks the Paro valley and the airport looks like a miniature 

hot stones

hot stone into the bath 

representation of urban development. I had a hot stone bath, drank copious amounts of tea, walked to the two closest Lakhangs and played with the nieces. Moments in my life that could have been a day or a year on the calendar. The walk down to modern life took about two hours and ended in Chencho's “town” house with . . . more tea.

looking back up at the house

Christmas

     Some of my teaching friends were leaving Bhutan on the 25^th, so we agreed to meet on the 24^th at my favourite place, the Gangtey Palace. The numbers grew and eventually there were 12 or more of us. I had also invited my two Bhutanese colleagues from The CHSS English department, Palden and Chencho. They were both at home in Paro with their families.  A Canadian inventor was at the hotel, he had met with the Ministry of Education and was being toured around by Karma, our logistics guy at the BCF. They also joined us and the inventor brought his wife.

     At around 6 pm we were having gin and tonics in the cosy bar. I wandered into the dining room to confirm numbers and add a table to our reservation. The staff were erecting a Christmas tree, which was MUCH too tall for the ceiling. What a contrast – a decorated tree against the backdrop of old Buddhist paintings on the wall. Balloons seem to be a big part of Bhutanese Christmas trees.

Brick Carving 

Christmas day some of us relocated to Thimphu where Matt and Lucy were staying at a friend Mark's luxurious home. They had invited some of us for turkey dinner. Long story . . . but Nancy, the director of the BCF had received a Thanksgiving turkey from His Majesty and had saved it. In a large, modern kitchen with a fancy oven, we cooked all day and had a wonderful dinner. Lots of wine from the duty free shop. Luckily I had not discovered this earlier in the year, or I would not have had enough cash to live on. Yum. Four desserts.

King's Cake :)

Post turkey lull

Information from our driver

My sister Andrea visited me for 8 days. In Bhutan tourists must pay a fee and tourist entries are limited each year. Included in the tourist fee are guide, driver, a fee to the tourist association, museum entries, some meals and two to three star hotels.

On behalf of Andrea I opted NOT to have a guide, which is allowed because I live here. Our driver spoke excellent English, understood us and was an excellent driver. It turns out he was only 22 years old but had driven a large “tipper”truck for two years and owned his own vehicle – so was a freelance driver. This was his first year driving tourists. He had been busy for 3 months.

Special information that he gave us:

Bhutanese do not wear seat belts because the roads are so steep and if you roll down with a seat belt on, you cannot be thrown from the car to safety.

Monkeys like bananas and we can feed them from the car windows.

Drivers that have their own vehicles can earn as much as a government minister.

Andrea's Last Day

    Andrea and I were in Paro, and decided to let my friend Palden guide us around. We drove part way up a road, then walked most of the altitude gain to Sanga Choekor Goenpa. It is a monastery with a fairly large group of monks studying Buddhism. It is considered a“Buddhist Institute.”The view of the valley is spectacular. I had seen the goenpa from several places as it is visible from Chelila Pass and from the valley bottom. Palden's sister invited us to lunch as they were having their annual puja.

      Andrea was confused by the goings on that day so I will try to explain clearly . . . Annual puja is a ritual where the monks come into the home and spend the day, or night and day(s) chanting and blessing the house and its occupants. It has been explained to me that the obstacles for the following year are “removed”. Extended family comes home to participate, cook, eat and stay up late visiting, drinking ara and playing cards. The wage earners of the extended family contribute financially to the event as it is expensive to pay the monks. At other pujas I have seen between two and twelve monks.

      We arrive and people are hanging their heads out windows with criosity. Andrea is so beautiful (blonde hair), they are pleased to meet us. We are introduced to sisters, aunts, mothers, sister cousins, sister in-laws and the same on the male side. After using the toilet that is in a separate but semi-attached addition to the traditional home, we are ushered into the main room. The bukari (wood stove) is burning fiercely, the television is on and everyone is seated on the floor in a circle around the perimeter of the room. Food is on the floor in the middle of the room and they are about to eat. More introductions. We are ushered into the next room,which is the altar room where the monks have been chanting. The floor is littered with rice, as are the cushions we sit on. Chanting and blessing appears to involve a fair amount of scattering of raw rice.

We are served alone, but Palden stays with us to explain the food, make sure we eat and enjoy. Tea, biscuits and zao (dried puffed and fried rice that goes in your tea or is eaten from the palm of your hand) first, then rice and three spicy hot curries. More tea.

We sat on the rug to the right 

The altar was elaborate. Both Andrea and I took photos. Palden took us for a tour of the property. Apple trees, chorten, gardens and three houses; two traditional, one apartment building. All of the homes were built for the daughters as traditionally property is passed from mother to daughter. It was cold out and I was struck by the contrast between our cosy life at the hotel, with hot running water and hot water bottles in our beds, and the cold concrete room with running cold water, room to bathe from a bucket and an indian-style toilet. I had already made the transition from my daily life of cold concrete homes to cosy western warmth.

I

Merry Christmas

So many good-byes for me here, and fun adventures.  

The last 3 hikes - to Sang Choekor, Chelila with Kela nunnery and then a sixth trek up to Tiger's Nest - really have made me the happiest Canadian in Bhutan.  Each day was topped by a vist with my Bhutanese friends. and it has been bittersweet.  I have tried severall times to sit and write about these last days, but have not been successful.  Either no internet or too tired I thought.  Today I have decided that there are some things that are just too overwheliming to write about, so will enjoy every last minute and connection that I have here.  

Christmas eve there were 10 or 12 of us at the Gangtey Palace for a lovely dinner and get together.  The group consisted of BCF teachers, staff, a Canadian inventor and two of my dearest friends from school.  That was my Christmas eve. 

Yesterday I went to Thimphu, staying in a friend's luxurious house, Lucy and I cooked turkey dinner for 12.  Nancy Strickland had been given a turkey at Thanksgiving by the King himself.  She also received a cake from HM.  We cooked 4 or 5 vegetable dishes, potatoes and 2 desserts - apple crisp and trifle.  

Then I heard that there were Bhutanese guests coming... there was a debate whether  to cook rice or not.  The word for rice is the same as the word for food in Dzongkha . . . we decided there would be no food for Christmas dinner. 

National Day December 17 Wangchu

Recent Activity

The internet has not been working very well and I have so much to say and photos to post.

ready for tea with the King and Queen (yes again 3 hours very casual)

Dochula pass with Andrea 

Gangtey Palace  cold  brrrr. Thanks for hot water bottles in the beds

Walked to Sang Choekor Goempa above Paro with Palden

Chelila pass 3900 meters 

Hut near sky burial site

Kila Nunnery 

Bunagu

Right in my back yard.  This charming village is below the highway and above the new unopened highway.  Dave and I walked down and wandered a couple of kilometres along the highway. 

Sorting potaotes

More Wood

The family in the apartment below me installed a bukari (wood heater) last week.  First they pounded a hole in the concrete wall for the stovepipe.  Not unusual although many families stick the pipe out a window.  Then a large load of large rounds of wood was dropped in our walkway.  By evening it was split and piled up around the stairwell that I use.  

Pipe is at 5'8" above the walkway

I think the hose is for emergencies?? 

Endings

It is always with mixed emotions that we leave a place.  I usually find that friendships deepen and experiences intensify right as we are going away. 

Right now I am so much more comfortable with everything.  I was sitting at the IMTRAK canteen and said to Dave - I am so "at home" here now.  Even four months ago some of these interactions would have been stressful -  understanding the salesperson, meeting the man that directs the canteen for the Indian army, being behind the canteen because there was work going on at the main window, eating new food, interacting with the Extended Classroom Teacher who lives a two hour hike across the river and recognized me...

Do I feel more comfortable because I am leaving?  Who knows.  I do feel less stressed because exams are over, my marks are done and there cannot really be too many more surprises before I leave.  Up until now it seemed that every single day there was a surprise or hurdle or crazy thing that I did not understand and had to figure out and deal with.  Because everyone else seems to know what is needed and expected, it is often difficult to resolve, complete or deal with run of the mill bureaucratic requirements.  Hopefully all is done.  One small example:  my road permit is with my sister's driver whom I will meet at the airport tomorrow.  I have to pass through an immigration checkpoint prior to the airport.  Once again it is a situation that is now familiar and I will hopefully be able to manage. :)

Sentiments

Leaving is hard anywhere, anytime.  After a year WOW.  I have created a little life for myself, I call Tshimalakha home and enjoy the simplicity of my life here. 

As we are wandering around the countryside I am trying to absorb what I see. However I am beginning to feel like more of a visitor than someone who has lived here for a year. I am getting ready to go, deciding what to bring home and what to leave behind, selling some of my big items and planning my trip home. 

I am looking forward to seeing my family and friends and the challenges I will face at work in February.  Slowly changing my mindset.  

It is  hard to leave as it is difficult to get to Bhutan and I know I may never see this place again. 

Another great weekend

Another wonderful couple of days roaming around the countryside.  Matt and Lucy came to visit from Thimphu and Dave came up from Pakshika.  We had a bit of a dinner party with chile and rice, cake and custard and wine.  The next morning we got a really slow start and took the other road to Bjapcho.  It was warm and sunny so we walked to the Lakhang and simply sat around in the sun watching the clouds mist over the mountain and the deity's cave. 

Afterwards we drove to Dave's in Pakshika where we had another dinner party with friends of his.  Bonfire, food and a big sleep.  This morning Dave started a fire to heat water.  We had a huge breakfast of buckwheat pancakes and ate outside in the sun.  It is at least 10 degrees warmer where he is - about two hours drive, maybe 60 kilometres, south of here. 

His young neighbour wandered into the house and picked up his ukelele and sat on the steps to serenade us. She played and sang while we cooked. 

Dave's neighbours - the girls downstairs.

Construction next to Dave's place.  The bamboo slats will be covered by cement. 

Dave's odd looking but serene dog "puppy". 

We walked down the road to this site where Dave pulled out some snacks and beers.  It was SO warm and lovely for us cold hill dwellers. 

The phallus at Dave's.

A zoom on one of the views from Dave's