Chillips Running Amok

"An adventure is only an inconvenience rightly considered. An inconvenience is only an adventure wrongly considered."

      -Gilbert K. Chesterton

Just setting out on yet another hiking adventure

Martha’s death overshadowed most of what happened immediately thereafter, but there have been many fun and interesting things to report. Before that happened, I had made plans with Ashley and Iman for them to come here and we would all spend the holiday of Blessed Rainy Day together. I did get to see them, plus some more friends on that day, however unfortunate and incidental the circumstances may have been. Blessed Rainy Day was the day after Martha’s cremation, so I was in Rangjung and had the pleasure of enjoying the comfort and company of Sheal, Scott, Becky, Tim, Ashley, Iman, Martin, and we stayed at the always-fun-and-hospitable casa de Vicky & Ian. All things considered, it was the best possible scenario and I am so glad I was able to see everyone again.

Martin and Iman came back to Autsho with me; so Iman got to come after all, like we had planned. Martin was just an added bonus. We (and by that I mean Martin and Iman) made a lovely dinner in my humble little room and we talked and talked. The next day (Sunday), Martin was supposed to leave on the bus that runs from Lhuentse to Thimphu, but after waiting for a couple of hours and some detective work, it was ascertained that the bus driver was “taking rest” after the prior day’s festivities, so there wouldn't be one. With a smile and a big hug, and no hesitation, Martin set out to hitchhike all the way back to Bumthang. What a spirit of adventure and good attitude! He called later that night, having made it safe and sound, 6 rides later, elated about his day’s escapades and sights.

Iman and me in our matching outfits; and my doggy, who follows me to class

On that Monday Iman came to all my classes, plus a couple extra, and she taught an impromptu lesson on Haiku using the book she recently published and gave to me as a gift. In one class, we subbed for P.E. so we took the kids out side and did some simple yoga. We wore matching kiras and wanjus, purposely wanting to look like “sisters.” We were a huge hit! She’s got a fan club over here now.

Iman leading us through chaturanga dandasana

My dance group

Then, the power went out for over a week. Radio silence. Our school had been planning to host its first-ever variety show, that kept getting postponed because we had no electricity, but the first day it came back, we were in business. I coordinated a group of students and taught them a dance to LMFAO’s Party Rock Anthem. I have to brag just a little bit here. It was awesome! I will go so far as to say it’s the most fun, worth-it thing I’ve done here this year! We practiced a ton; it took a lot to teach 15 kids how to do totally new, really faced paced dance moves, but it was well worth it. It was a showstopper. Since it took so long for us to learn, we only did one song (we were supposed to do two), but it was such a hit, that after the first night, the program coordinator requested that we go again, and that I would participate. Twist my arm! I’ve always been something of a performer; love a good song and dance routine! I enthusiastically skipped out onto the stage that second night and busted some shuffling moves with my kids. Everyone went wild and the kids told me later they have never done anything so fun, or been so proud of themselves.  It’s moments like that that I joined this profession for. And just when I thought my heart couldn’t swell any bigger with pride and love for them….

Everyone's so excited!

Free styling

Shufflin'!

The weekend after that there was a Long Life Blessing in Lhuentse that I went to at the crack of dawn. There, I received a package that had been sent months earlier by my Australian friend Bobby I met when she was touring Bhutan in May. She took a keen interest in my students and me and took it upon herself to make 40+ big tote bags, with her sewing club, for the students to carry their books in and some more books to donate to the library. The package had fallen off the truck and was sitting on the side of the road until it was picked up by a man I had never seen or met before, who had it for who-knows-how-long, just waiting to meet me to give it to me. Everyone knows who the one and only foreign teacher is here. It was so quintessentially Bhutan. Here, it’s all about luck. Bobby, if you’re reading this, THANK YOU! You’ll be getting pictures and a more detailed account of the gifting of the bags and book donation very soon.

Me, Melanie, Andy

One weekend, I had some unexpected visitors. On a Saturday, as our school was hosting an open volleyball tournament for the whole Dzongkhag, I got a call from new friends of Martin and Tara’s, who had just come from Bumthang, where they had been filming Martin for an educational TV series they are voluntarily producing. They were cycling from Mongar to Lhuentse and wanted to drop in and say hi. They are from London and named Melanie and Andy. They called to just come meet me, but after coming up to my school and into my little room, we decided they should stay and explore around here a little bit. They were the perfect guests, and aside from David, the only Brits I’ve ever met. Such adventurers! They’re voluntarily working for 4 months in Bhutan, and going on a year-long tour around the world, basically, as an extended honeymoon, after quitting their jobs and selling most of their possessions in London. Sounds familiar. Birds of a feather, eh?

Andy took these cool shots on their fancy camera. I got some great pictures of the Autsho area from them!

A spider we saw on the way to Ladrong- colored like a tree frog, sitting in its yellow web

Trekking through the jungle

They asked a couple of my students to take them to Ladrong, one of the most remote villages in Lhuentse District. They wanted to collect information for a potential future funding project of the school. Incidentally, that is the same place I found myself the following weekend. My friend Sonam and I decided we wanted to do something different, and she has a friend who teaches there, so we decided to go. What an ordeal that turned out to be! It was a 5 hour trek and some of the most spectacular land I have ever gotten to see here. The wildlife, and natural scenes were breathtaking. However, for an out-of-shape girl, it was quite a haul. When we got there, the first thing I heard was “Madam Reidi!!!” some of my students from AMSS who live there had returned the previous night and were more than excited to have me show up. We played volleyball, watched a football match, and enjoyed the day, beauty, and people of Ladrong immensely.

Sights of the hike to Ladrong

A typical village, Jarrey: 6 houses, some animals, and a chorten

Ladrong school, and students coming to watch our volleyball skills

Some students who took me up to the prayer wheel and Lakhang above the village, amazing view!

Ladrong, tucked away

Loaded in the back of a tipper. This is turned out to be the scariest thing so far this year!

The trip back was a whole other story. To my chagrin, we were coaxed into spending the night. We left around 8 in the morning, thinking it would take about 4 hours to get back and could be back by lunch so we could have the day to prep and get ready for the upcoming week. There isn’t a road that connects the village with the rest of the country, but one is being currently blasted into the side of the mountain. After walking for about an hour, we came to the place where the road was being made; a truck was about to leave and go all the way down. Score! A ride! Several of our students were also there, so we happily climbed in. After a short time, we realized that our driver was totally inebriated. He insisted on driving as close to the sheer cliff drops as possible. A few times, rocks would ping off the side of the road and bounce down the drop, which allowed us to visualize the full depth of a plunge. Horrifying! So much so, that my friend Sonam and I decided we had to be responsible for not only ourselves, but the lives of our students. Much to the driver's dismay, we got out. That left us stranded on the highest, steepest, most dangerous road I’ve ever been on in Bhutan. And that’s saying something! We spent most of the afternoon carrying the boxes and bags that the students were bringing back from their homes, walking up, up, up, freezing, waiting for another ride to come along. At no point did anybody I was with ever seem alarmed, or even out of good spirits. We made a fire because it was so cold, and had to huddle together to keep warm. All were laughing, smiling, and singing throughout the whole day. Quite a typical scenario: something unplanned, potentially dangerous and aggravating, but nobody fusses or minds. What I saw as an inconvenience, they were happy too see as a grand adventure. I love peoples’ attitudes! I've been here for almost a year, and still continuously am reminded that there's more to learn about patience and perspective.

This is taken from where we got out of the truck, miles up. At the bottom of the valley is Autsho

Our roadside fire

The next and last big foreigner adventure has been my mom visiting me here. She came on the 18^th of October, and spent two days in the West, touring around Thimphu and taking in all the sights and activities there. She met my friends Mel and Andy, only through a fluke run-in with Niall, the man I met and stayed with while I was in Thimphu over summer break. I love that Bhutan is small enough that all the foreigner chillips know each other in one way or another: that goes for everybody, actually. Then, she came to Bumthang, where I met her and we spent the next week staying with Tara and Martin. Ashley came too and we attended the local festival of tshechu to see the masked dancing and get a blessing. I loved getting to introduce her to some of the culture and history of Bhutan, and introduce her to my friends. After days of lounging, eating, walking, cooking, and generally making merry, we headed back on the bus to Autsho together. This was personally my favorite part of having her here- getting to show her my village, school, and most importantly my students. They were more than polite to her, and melted her heart as much as they have mine. She brought dimes as a small gift from our country to theirs, and spoke to the whole school at the morning assembly. She came to all my classes with me and spoke to my students about our home, family, and shared pictures of our land and me when I was their age. They absolutely loved her; the night before she left, my room was flooded with kids coming in and out, wanting to wish her safe journey and bringing her gifts. Here's something a student wrote about her in a journal: "She looks simple and nice. She talks soft, kind, and smart. We think it's our good karma to meet her..." If it’s going to be anything like that when I leave, I don’t know how I’ll actually bring myself to get on the bus and go. I was very moved, touched by the kindness and warmth with which they welcomed her; I know she felt the same way. (I really wish I had more pictures, but they were accidentally erased in my ongoing battles with my technology!)

My beautiful mama, all dressed up in the national dress

That pretty much brings it up to date. I have really glossed over the details of everything because there was so much to cover. Now, we will head into the exam frenzy. Now knowing how long it takes to mark papers, I am well prepared and just hoping to avoid another computer (or any other kind of) catastrophe! Fingers crossed! Overall, life has been treating me extremely well, and I am so grateful for the lessons and experiences this year has brought me, and cherish the remaining time I have left.
 

Martha Rosemary Ham

This is in dedication and memory of our friend Martha Ham...

This picture was taken during our BCF teachers’ retreat, on July 3rd, 2012.  We were in the Bumthang District, visiting a sacred place called Membarthso.  This is a beautiful spot where the Tang River channels through a hole in the rock , forming deep, swirling pools.  This is where Pema Lingpa, the sacred treasure revealer, plunged back into the treacherous current with a butter lamp to prove that his powers would prevent the flame from going out.  On this day Martha sat on a rock here above that spot, contemplating the deep secrets of her surroundings. (Photo and caption credit Martin Thorn)

Keep this in mind when in dire straights

Upon the vast plain of clinging to life’s appearances,

Surrounded by your emotions—the obscuring emotions—

You are about to be robbed of the supreme wealth—virtue.

            -Sheshen Gyaltsap, “The Great Medicine”

The Tibetan word for body is lu, which literally means “something that is left behind.” Lu refers to the fact that we abandon the body when we die, and then it disintegrates. On September 20^th, our beloved friend and colleague, Martha Ham, left her body and began that most ultimate journey, whatever it is, that takes place when the soul departs it’s worldly wrapper. A joyful adventurer and fierce individualist, she will be forever remembered by all those who had the privilege of touching lives with her through this experience.

BCF director Nancy Strickland addressing Martha's students

Traditional Bhutanese cremation ceremony

At the age of 51, she came to Bhutan like the rest of us, bright with life, wide-eyed, wanting to live in beauty and support this country. She was one of the 15 newbies that came this year. The last time I saw her was over the summer break in Bumthang. She contracted a rare strain of E-Coli and fell subject to subsequent infection. She was transported from her Dzongkhag of Trashigang, the easternmost district of Bhutan, to the hospital in Mongar, only an hour away from me. There, her condition rapidly deteriorated. BCF had arranged to have her air-lifted out of Bhutan to India, but rain and heavy fog prevented the flight. People here say it was “so unlucky.” I would say tragic, and there are so many questions swirling around this situation and the circumstances of her death. I didn’t know she was even ill, let alone in critical condition, until the situation was beyond human control. I left school early that week when I found out, after lunch on Thursday, but didn’t make it in time. I got the news she had passed as I was waiting on the side of the road, trying to get a ride to see her.

Martha’s knowledge and belief of Buddhism was extensive. I’ve incidentally been reading literature that explores the foundations of Mahayana Buddhism and the practical applications of this path. I have read that our tendency to associate all experiences of suffering and pleasure with the notion of a body result in obscuring emotions; thus the human condition. Martha undoubtedly knew and may well have believed in this principal. These concepts resonate in my heart but do little to quell quizzical mind. This unforeseeable event, undeniably, “un-Buddhistly,” appears to me as quite sad. She left behind three brothers in Canada, and two nephews that she loved very dearly, who did not get to see or speak with her before her passing. I thank and appreciate the people who knew about her condition and were tirelessly with her until the very end, doing everything they could to help: Becky, Vicky, Ian, Scott, Sheal, and the office assistants of her school.

All grouped to honor and respect Martha's passing

The day of her passing, Thursday, Sept. 20^th, Becky, Sheal, and Ashley were already in Mongar when I finally made it. Martin and Iman were on their way with Nancy and Nima from BCF, and arrived at about 1:00 a.m. after driving 14 hours straight. We all left in a convoy very early the next morning to take her body for cremation at the grounds in Rangjung, a 6-hour trip east of Mongar, back in the district where she lived. We picked up Scott and Tim on the way. Most of the high-ranking officials of the surrounding areas were in tow, and it seemed the whole eastern side of Bhutan had heard about it by the time we arrived and met Vicky and Ian later that day. The ceremony was tastefully done and very reverent, in traditional Bhutanese style. Her body was washed, wrapped, and discretely, carefully placed in a nest made of chopped wood, artfully covered and adorned with the customary ceremonial fabrics. An alter was made, offerings were given; prayers and chanting reverberated and undulated omnisciently throughout the entire ceremony. Then, the fire was lit, and Martha’s human remains joined her spirit as smoke and became infused into the open sky. It was humbling, beautiful. Principals, District Education Officers, Dashos, teachers, and students flooded the cremation grounds to show their respect and support. Martha’s brother was on the phone and got to hear the prayers and goings on. I appreciate the honor and veneration with which Martha and her family were treated. We have been assured the doctors did everything they could do, and they did it correctly. Even His Majesty himself wrote a kind letter of condolences to her family.

There were incidentally two cremation ceremonies happening simultaneously

Yet, it has been over two weeks and I am still in shock and quite incapable of completely processing, or even relating, it in a satisfactory way. I haven’t been able to write about it because I have not had power since last week; (thus no Internet) but I have also not had the words. Here is what I wrote in my journal as I sat on the side of the road there waiting to get to Mongar, after having just heard: “…she was so full of life, strong and energetic. Tough as nails, yet compassionate and kind to the core. She felt immediately familiar to me in a way not many do…it’s literally unbelievable.” It’s difficult to write more about this, to know what else to say, other than I pray for the healing of Martha’s family, and wish I could more eloquently and completely articulate the facts and feelings surrounding this unpredictable thing. All those who knew her will always remember Martha Ham. I am honored to have had the privilege to have known her, however briefly.

Fly high

Butter lamps lit in honor of 14 days of Martha's passing

 We love you, Martha

I get to be kind to them...

 "We find delight in the beauty and happiness of children that makes the heart too big for the body. "

   -Ralph Waldo Emerson

I’d like to dedicate this month’s installment solely to my students. Although it is certain none of them will read this, or even know what a “blog” is, they are my inspiration and joy here. Case and point: just in the time that it took me to write that sentence, I was “disturbed” twice by two of my girls, Kinzang Dema and Pema Choki, who brought me beans, walnuts, chilies, and a cucumber that weighs about 5 lbs. They are still a bit shy, but we talked about food in Bhutan, their village, and I did my best to make them laugh. This is a common scene- students timidly tapping on my door throughout the day/night with questions or gifts. Tonight, they did not want to come in and have tea because it is almost their bedtime, but they agreed to come and watch a movie with me on Saturday. Good. Because I truly can’t think of many people I’d rather be around than my students. I say this a bit sheepishly, because I know it sounds like I’m bragging, especially to my teacher friends in America who have to deal with an array of behavioral issues from students and their parents on a daily basis. And maybe I am bragging a bit; while I certainly can’t take credit for the quality of my students’ characters, they indeed have made me into the proudest teacher this side of the Pacific and burst my heart right open.  It’s hard not to want to boast, just a little.

Reading "Wind in the Willows" to one of my classes

Some of my boys and me

Class 8'B'

Needless to say, teaching is going very well. I’ve gotten my feet under me, and it feels fantastic to get the positive feedback and results that I am. Apart from myself, I believe that the reason for my success is that these students are particularly malleable and amicable. I feel that in the U.S., (at least in my experience) there was a veil of detachment hanging between students and teachers that had to be maintained at all times for the sake of being professional and seen as an authoritative figure. Here, there’s no need to wear a “teacher’s mask,” with students that you take off only for a select few, or after school hours. No veils, no masks, no cloaks of concealment. We are all just people; more than that, we are a family. Nothing is sacred, everything is shared, and I get to be my real self with my students. Mostly, I get to be kind to them. There is an old teachers’ adage in America that you shouldn’t smile until after Thanksgiving- the thought being that to show kindness is to show weakness and risk being bulldozed by the unruly kids. This could never be possible for me; the reason I wanted to be in education is because I have always been over-brimming with love and affection for children. I’ve come to the right place. I get to laugh, joke, play, and share with my students to a degree that would never fly anywhere else. I get to be frank with them. I get to be honest with them; and the only consequence of this candor is more interest, understanding, and respect from them. They know about my feelings, family, hopes, fears, loves, failures. I get to share a bigger part of myself with them than I do most anyone. I get to treat and care for them as I hope to do for my own children one day. I get to be kind to them…and for that, I am so honored.

Telling about books they would like

Tekindra Neopany and Karma Tshering hamming it up for the camera

Crowding on a suspension bridge

Not that everything is always perfect at all times. No, of course not! Kids are kids; people are people. We all have our good and bad days. I’ve still got my troublemakers, daydreamers, schemers, and sneakers. But by showing them kindness and genuine compassion, concern, I know I have earned their respect and affections. It takes no more than a harsh glance, snap of my fingers, or clap of my hands to rectify most any undesirable situation within my classes. Each class is a unit unto itself and the kids will keep themselves in check. If one or a few get out of line, I usually don’t have to do much before their classmates handle it. The actions of a few affect and reflect the whole and these students have enough self-discipline and respect to monitor themselves.  In this same way, they also help each other. I have implemented a really useful procedure to improve participation in class. Sometimes it is still quite difficult to get every student in class to take part, and I get the same few always wanting to talk (as in every classroom around the world). I have made a chart with all the class members’ names on it, and if a student actively adds to class on any given day, at the end of class, he/she gets to come up to the front of the room and put a star by his/her name. They have made sure that each person in class has at least one star by their names. Strong students will raise their hands, only to be called on and then forfeit their turn to a student who still needs a star. They are happy for each other when others succeed and improve. There is true teamwork, encouragement, and support within class communities. It’s inspiring and humbling; makes me re-think our westernized way of defining “success”: more stars for me, versus each person has a star? While this paradigm doesn’t have much room for individualism (which drove me crazy at first), does it not yield just as positive a result, if not more so?

Girls helping me with some night gardening

Canopy they built

Flower beds all over

They also work. Hard. When I arrived at Autsho MSS, it was no more than some stark-looking buildings sitting atop a big bowl of dust. The grounds, being newly constructed, were rough and unattractive. These days, the campus is one sprawling, luscious garden. Big planters have been built with rocks collected and stacked by students, flowers have been chosen spliced, and transplanted into the fertile topsoil that can only be gotten from the grounds above the school. They have done everything. They’ve constructed a large canopy for shade and enjoyment; built fences, keep the grass and weeds at bay. The most recent project is that each house is making an agricultural garden and will sell the produce back to the school kitchen, and then put the earned money back into school improvement projects. “Social Work” as it’s called (compulsory yard work like this) is a scheduled and routine of student life here. While they don’t have a choice, they do it happily. Last week they were breaking ground for said gardens; I was on duty as “monitor” and as I looked up across this tropically-vegetated mountain side and saw several hundred students ranging in ages 11-20 all swinging cutting blades, spades, pick axes, lugging branches, grass and rocks, singing, laughing, playing, yelling so happily in the blistering hot sun, all I could think was, “Wow. This would never happen back home.” It was such a special moment and really embodies what I’ve come to see and appreciate here.

Garden plots cleared by students

As my time here dwindles, I realize that it is these moments that will stand out as purely beautiful, simple, and precious. These are some of the most hard-working, unfailingly jovial people in the world. I’m so lucky to be here and get to be part of it. My students are the ones who have brought me to this acuity, and I’d like to honor them for that. There is a lot more to report: last month I went to Ranjung and saw and Vicki and Ian, then hosted a slumber party with Ashley for her best students. I’ve almost completely renovated the library- that job has been a huge undertaking. I’ve been put in charge of teaching students two American dances for
 the upcoming cultural program AMSS will put on for the community. I have planned a trip to Thailand at the end of December. This month we have a holiday coming up called “Blessed Rainy Day” and that will be something to remember. I will talk more about all these things in my next post. For this one, I just wanted to take the time to focus on how lovely my students are, and how beautiful they have made my surroundings. Thanks for listening to me gush.  

The Afterglow

"Grant your blessings so that confusion on the path

                  may be eliminated

Grant your blessings so that confusion may dawn as wisdom.

Please bless me so that I may liberate myself by attaining

                  realization.

Bless me so that I may liberate others by the strength of

                  compassion.

May all connections I develop be meaningful."

                  -His Holiness the Twelfth Gyalwang Drukpa,

                  The Preliminary Practice of Guru Yoga

Several things have happened since my last post. I am horribly back logged on my chronicles and have a lot of catching up to do. This is due to the fact that my computer crashed, among other things. I left off last time saying that I was just heading in to the Midterm Exam frenzy; I was sure I’d have a ton of stories to tell after the break, and not so sure I’d be able to make it through all my marking. Both predictions turned out to be true. And then some.

The road, the mountains, the view. This is how traveling looks.

My computer had the decency to crash after daily lessons/planning had stopped in lieu of review for the Midterm. I have never seen exams taken to such extent in the U.S.- not even at the college level. It was intense! Students and teachers were given a time table of the exams they were taking and when, and the campus turned into one big testing facility. The taking of exams and reporting of their scores are taken very seriously. That is because at least 70% of the students’ entire grade is based on the Midterm and Annual Exams. In my opinion, it is detrimental and inauthentic to make assessment so punctuated and with such high-stakes. This only provides results for a student’s capability of taking a test at a specific point in time, rather than making an ongoing and honest representation of his/her performance and progress. But this is the system that works here, and it’s not up to me to make those decisions. So I wrote the two English exams that are administered for Class 8 Standard, and took my allotted exam duties faithfully. I tried to focus on those things, rather than the fact that my computer had rendered itself useless until the point that I would be able to get it to Thimphu over the break. I also took it as a blessing that this happened at a time when I would have the availability to make the 2-day journey (one way) without having to take casual leave, which I am storing up for when mom visits in October.  

On the way

In Bumthang Valley, where mom and I will spend some time

Ashley made her way out to me here in Autsho on June 26^th, and on the 28^th, we headed west to join our BCF friends in the Bumthang Valley for some much needed reprieve. In the day and a half Ashley was at Autsho, she managed to “misplace” her phone. Someone found it, picked it up, and turned it off, probably wanting to use the remaining minutes left on her voucher without being caught. We couldn’t locate it before we had to leave that morning, and there was no way of delaying our departure because 1.) I had to beg the shop Auntie for a favor of getting two tickets on the bus going from Lhuentse to Thimphu to take us as far as Bumthang. We only got them because she knew the driver and pulled some strings for me. It would have been rude not to go and we wouldn’t have gotten another ride. 2.) This is monsoon season, and traveling is treacherous, if not impossible, from the end of June until the beginning of September. It was not raining, a.k.a. time to bust for it! So there we were, one with no phone, the other with no computer, both with all of our exams to mark still, about to embark, come hell or high water! Incidentally, this cliché saying is not an exaggeration of the actual situation.

Just after our breakdown

There is but one bus that goes from Lhuentse to Thimphu once a week, which means every person going that way (of which there were many due to school letting out) piles themselves and whatever huge cargo they are moving onto this rickshaw operation. It was a good two hours late pulling into Autsho and that pretty much set the tone for the duration of the trip. It was so over-packed that each time we went over even a small bump, the tail end of the bus grated on the ground. This eventually led to the inevitable breakdown that stopped us for an hour just a few kilometers from the highest pass in Bhutan. This happened shortly after the bus started fishtailing towards the side of a few-thousand-meter cliff as the wheels spun in the gumbo clay of the road. No guard rails, naturally. As if it were a routine drill, all the men jumped up and out of the bus and started pushing it back to the center of the road. At this point, Ashley had positioned herself right next to the door and was ready to bail; she looked back at me with sheer terror in her eyes. This probably should have been more alarming had it not been for the hilarity of the whole situation. I couldn’t find it in myself to panic, as it seemed so customary for everybody else, so I sat back and casually waited for the men to manually push our sliding bus back into “comfortable” position. And they did and we continued. Twelve hours later we arrived in one piece and fell into Tara’s open and loving arms. She took us to their beautiful, comfortable home and we spent the night eating, drinking, and enjoying being reunited.

Kitchen party, good company!

Tshechu, Kurjay

The next few days were pure magic and bliss. There is too much to relate everything in great detail, but to just gloss over the highlights: June 29^th was the birth day of Guru Rinpoche (considered to be the Second Buddha) and Tara, Martin, Ashley, and I went to tshechu (holy festival/blessing by a Llama) at Kurjay, one of the most holy places in Bhutan and where the first 3 Kings are buried. Iman got in that day too, and met us there. One really interesting thing that happened was when people got in “line” (formed a slowly moving mass) to get a blessing, it turned in to something of a mosh pit. People were pushing so much that the police actually started removing the babies and small children from the crowd because they didn’t want them to get hurt. Once again, this seemed perfectly customary for everyone involved except us, so although uncomfortable, once again, you just gotta go with it. It was a day I’ll never forget. 

Beer in banana-leaf hut with my loves. A proper birthday celebration of Guru Rinpoche!

Of course there is masked dancing at a Bhutanese birthday party!

Swimming, Bhutanese style

The Burning Lake

The next day most of the other BCF clan got in to town and we headed over to the River Lodge, where BCF kindly put us up for a few days. Nancy, Meena, Karma, and Nima had a well-planned and lovely program set for us. We went to Membartsho, or the "Burning Lake," and drank in the splendor. Then, we got taken to the Tang Valley, where we got to see the Ogyen Choling Museum, a former feudal palace, and meet its owner/ proprietor Ashi (means queen) Kuenzang Choden- renowned female author- and her Swiss husband Walter. I got her to sign the book of hers I had been reading, and found out that she and Walter spent some years in Nebraska. Small world! The scenery of this place was excruciatingly, exquisitely gorgeous. It is what I imagine the Swiss Alps must look like in the springtime. This is the Bhutan I came to see. No pictures or words can ever capture the magnitude of beauty. It was one of those days I kept gazing at everything with my mouth gaping open, beseeching my mind to capture every little detail, and not let it fade. It is bittersweet to have such awe-inspiring experiences and in the same moment realize that this one too, like all others, will pass. I could have lived in that day forever.

Garden at Ogyen Choling

Picnic and views

Tang Valley

The gang in front of the museum with Ashi Kuenzang

Over those three days, there was shopping, eating at a Swiss Guesthouse, hiking, down time, bed bugs, Budwieser beer in honor of it being the 4th of July, and soul-filling conversations. Talking to my BCF colleges about the parallels in our experiences, hearing others' hilarious stories,  and feeling connected and relaxed was necessary. There is something about being in this situation that makes people skip over the luke-warm "getting to know you" phase and we all have cut straight to the heart of true friendship. Soon, the BCF-sponsored program was over, and while most others opted to stay on in Bumthang and go on a three-day cultural trek (which I’m still a little sore I missed out on), I went back to Thimphu so I could attempt to get my computer issues sorted. What an ordeal that turned out to be.

The first night, Karma dropped me off at the side of the “Tandin Hotel” and I spent the first night alone, on the main drag of downtown. For some reason I felt like I was in Bangkok, or in some seedy hotel in a  city, somewhere other than Bhutan. I actively missed my little nook of Autsho that is buried deep in the canyon of the Kuri Chhu. But I was exhausted, and passed out, dog noises and all. I woke up the next morning and, on a recommendation from Dave, spent the better part of my morning in the Ambient Café, waiting to hear from Karma, who was going to take me to the place where I heard I could go get my computer looked at. I met some really interesting people there and had the best latte and breakfast I’ve had since I got here. It was nice to see this new side of Thimphu, and my new, more-Bhutanese self in it. It was empowering and thrilling to be by myself in a foreign land, relying on my instincts and limited knowledge of where I was, handling my own agenda. Through a conversation with the owner, I realized I was only a few shops down from where I needed to go. I thanked him, asked if I could leave my oversized duffle bag within his sight while I ran around to do my business for a while, and set out. Ultimately, nothing got accomplished with my computer that day, but I did meet the people who would end up fixing it, and they went far out of their way to help me. The I.T. Kuenzang worked on it for the whole day, and the following, and took me around to get another external hard drive, and even walked me to the grocery store I wanted to go to.

I ended up staying the next two nights with two lovely gentlemen named Niall from Ireland, and Alvaro from Spain. They are in Bhutan working in the tourism department in association with the United Nations, and I got Niall’s contact number, once again, from Dave. In Bhuntan, life is about connections, chance encounters, luck, and flexibility. They had a great flat with an extra room, which happened to be within spitting distance of the BCF offices, and Nancy (the director) and Mark’s (World Bank) houses. I ended up hanging out with the neighbors upstairs, since Niall and Alvaro both had Friday night plans. This turned into going to a proper club, where Alvaro met up with us much later. Such a fun night! I haven’t danced like that in over half a year. It felt amazing!

New friends Tshering, Alvaro, and Sonam after a long night out

Sonam, the brother of the guy upstairs, was going back to Bumthang on Sunday and would take me. He kept calling me a “country girl,” and I was so proud to realize that, yes, I am. I belong to a little place in the least-developed part of this country, yep. I may be a foreigner to the greater Bhutan, but in Autsho I am a local. I have a home here. I have a family. I spent my third day in Thimphu trying to get my laptop fixed, again, and that evening walked over to Mark’s where I got to have dinner with his lovely family, Nancy, and friends. The next day I made it back to Bumthang, without incident, and spent the remainder of break putzing around. The stress, lack of sleep, travel, and germs of all this had left my immune system in shambles, and so of course I got sick.

The people in my life right now really make all the difference. Being around such goodness: the support, love, advice, and help of those around me, has really made life glow. Thank you, Tara and Martin, if you’re reading this, for being such lovely hosts. And to everyone else who made the energy and time so touching, contented, and substantive. I have a huge sense of gratitude for people being there and going out of their way for others. I could say something about each single person I’m in contact with that has given and done special things for me. The people I met in Thimphu and all along the way took care of me- this would hardly happen in California. Strangers don’t go out of their way for one another, where time is money and nothing is free. I’m blessed to be here and aware of the difference.

back in Autsho celebrating Pema and Tshenden buying a new car

Morning greetings, scratch my belly!

It was quite a trip, in every sense of the word, and produced some memories that will last me a lifetime! I have come back from it with a whole new perspective on patience and flexibility, as well as a renewed enthusiasm for teaching and my community. There have been days that I have questioned my teaching abilities and felt lost and lonely. However, there has been a tangible shift and I have a newfound sense of my time and place here. I am doing new and interesting things with my classes every day and feeling good about the learning that's going on, both ways. I am working on a Library renovation project, using the funds I applied for and procured with the BCF, so as to leave something of a mark here. I have planted a vegetable garden with the help of my students, who I then invited in to watch a movie on Madam Tashi’s computer I borrowed. I made them snacks and tea. It felt great to host- made me feel like I truly have enough now, literally and figuratively, that I can share with others. It was so nice to hear “Thank you for everything!” rather than being the one to say it. I am spending as much time as possible with my new friends and family. There are some puppies, well, just one really, that has adopted me; but he has a twin that goes everywhere with him. Thus, I now have a pair of little dogs that follow me around and sleep on my doorstep. Today, the one who fancies me tried to follow me all the way into a classroom. I feel genuinely connected to teaching and my students. In short, I’m feeling better than ever before here, maybe better than I’ve ever felt in my whole life. I’m feeling the love. The peace, gratitude, and affection I have found here trump all else leading up to this. I’m torn over what I should do next year, but I couldn’t be happier or more appreciative of my life here in this moment.

No shoes? No problem.

Saturday classes are best spent outside!