Byers Without Borders

My WordPress Blog

living in Bhutan

Farewell & Thank you!!!

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And just like that it’s over. A decade of wishing, a year’s worth of hard planning and scheming, and here we are looking out at the frighteningly short and narrow runway of the Paro airport, awaiting our departure. None of us want to leave, the time went too quick, evidence that our life here was too perfect.

And it was a perfect community of friends and loved ones who made it all possible. Thank you for supporting us with your insanely generous donations. Thank you Hunt Regional CRNAs for working your VACATIONS! Thank you, to all who didn’t doubt, question, or discourage this dream. It is without a doubt that Jen and I are at this place in our lives because of the myriad interactions we have had with each of you along the way. We are a web of lives, each touching the other, pluck one of us and who knows where the vibration will resound. You have all made this trip with us, you have all helped the people of Bhutan.

Thank you our gracious hosts and new friends.

 

Farewell

YoPlay Away! Kids yoga can go anywhere.

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Prior to my arrival in Bhutan, I reached out to the Early Learning Center, in Mothitang, to organize some volunteer work for the girls and myself. Having spent two years teaching English in Japan, volunteering in ELC’s English Literacy class was a no-brainer. However, when principle Madam Kueron discovered my current passion, YoPlay, my true role in Bhutan revealed itself.

Founded by Madam Deki, ELC is a very progressive school (grades K-12) that puts as much emphasis on kindness and respect as it does on academics. Every class period begins and ends with 2 minutes of quiet meditation (they call it brain brushing) because the teachers believe an upset, angry or distracted child can not be expected to learn. Therefore learning is preceded by prepping the mind. Imagine my enthusiasm when they asked if YoPlay could take the place of their performing arts class for the month. Turns out, that class was lacking a teacher during our time here. Serendipity.

Of course it was a mix of excitement and trepidation I felt as I started my first day of YoPlay-Bhutan. Their school culture is so different from our own; worry about how my program would translate sat like a rock in my stomach. Their day begins with morning assembly. Rows and columns of children in the courtyard, standing in near military formation. The National anthem is sung, prayers are said, announcements are made and achievements are recognized (acts of kindness, recycling efforts, gifts to the school). The whole thing can last up to an hour. And then there is the cold! Unlike our schools, Bhutanese schools have no central heating, shivering children are taken outside to “warm up” in the sun. Even answering questions is different in Bhutanese schools. Here children stand up when speaking, and must address their teacher as Sir or Madam. These and a thousand other little differences.

Worry, anxious prepping, nervous introductions…

And it’s was all for not. For all our differences, we are still so much alike. It is a fact that despite country or creed, children can not form themselves up into a circle. Partner poses will always illicit rowdiness requiring shushing and stern looks. And all children, no matter where they are from, love to pretend (a bonus for my guided meditations). Basically we’re all the same; born in Bhutan or Texas, kids are kids. If there is a tree they’ll try and climb it, if there is a puddle they’ll find a way to get wet.

After a month of classes I can say YoPlay-Bhutan soared! The children, so kind and appreciative, would swarm my girls during snack time. Each vying for the opportunity to share their Bhutanese snacks with the foreign visitors. The instructors requested a teacher training that was enthusiastically attended one Saturday. And even after my departure, the school surprised me by posting a yoga video for international children’s yoga day.

Stella often likes to say she has 108 hearts. And she’ll name each one, “My daddy-heart, my mommy-heart, my puppy-heart, my ice cream-heart…”. As the children of ELC sang us farewell at our final morning assembly, my tears and cracked voice were evidence of my very own, new Bhutan-Heart.

Bhutan, Advanced Settings:

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Bhutan, Advanced Settings:

Bhutanese consider it impolite to say no. So they have many different forms of yes ranging from “very unlikely” to “it is certain”. If they say yes three times it’s definitely not happening. 

Bhutanese Ngultrum is the local currency. A one Nu bill is the smallest denomination; there are no coins. So when change of less than one Nu is owed, it is paid in hard candies or throat lozenges.  “Your change sir, 27 Nu and two peppermints”. 

Most Bhutanese parents take their newborns to the temple to receive auspicious names. Unfortunately, the monks don’t concern themselves much with surnames or gender. So Sonam the office girl who helped us with work permits is not Sonam, the boy who took us to Tiger Nest Monastery. Tashi Wangchuck one of my residents is no relation to the royal Wangchucks. 

My typical day starts with a short 20 minute walk to Jigme Dorji Wangchuck National Referral Hospital (JDWNRH). The pinnacle of the Bhutanese healthcare system, and where I will spend the morning in the OT (operating theater), doing hands-on clinical trading with two anesthesia residents. My afternoons are spent lecturing or various anesthesia topics. 

Until very recently Bhutan has been unable to train its own healthcare providers. Instead, doctors were trained in Sri Lanka, Burma, Thailand and Cuba. JDWNRH and the attached Khesar Gyalpo University of Medical Sciences is trying to change this. It is the only teaching institute in the country and it is crawling with students, interns, and residents.


Bhutan Basics

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Bhutan basics:

National Bird- Raven

Favorite Food- Anything with chilies 

Fridge settings-Winter, Summer, Monsoon

Toilets- squat (bring paper unless adept at the Asian bidet, water bucket and a scoop)

They drive on the left, so step off a curb and look RIGHT not left (that lesson comes quickly).

At day 23, life here is starting to feel normal. Everyone is settled into a pleasant routine. 

With only three sets of clothes each (one for wearing, one for washing, and one backup) Jen’s day usually starts with some laundry. You have to hang it out early, so it will dry before the afternoon weather rolls in (cold fingers hanging up wet clothes in 30 degree temps). Our little washer is on the balcony with the clothes line. It took some practice figuring out what the “fuzzy” cycle was about. Also, to power the washer Jen has to unplug the microwave, and run the extension cord from the electric blanket through an open kitchen window, but the chore no longer produces the profanity it did early on. 

On teaching days her and the kids bundle into a taxi and head across town to the school where they teach English Literacy and Yoga. 

Without the rush to make morning assembly, they usually choose to walk back home, picking up ingredients for the evening’s dinner on their meandering. Back at the apartment, Jen is still the teacher, and it is time for the girls to do their own schoolwork. 

On non-teaching days, the girls all head straight to the pine forest above the apartment. Schoolwork is still on their schedule, only now their classroom comes with a view. They always seem to negotiate time to build a fort or play among the prayer flags at the end of their lessons. After, it’s back down into the valley for the day’s shopping, a visit to the telecom office, or perhaps a coffee with another volunteer. 

I normally catch up with the gang around 3:00. After snacks and snuggles, we try to go out on some adventure together in town. A trip to the National Library, Tashi Dzong, the archery grounds, or just a taxi ride up to the telecom reflector tower. 

Evenings… the same dinner, bath, hair-combing, teeth-brushing routine as home. Except it is Indian cable that provides the background chatter instead of DirecTV. Occasionally a power outage triggers some flashlight games. And a game of Uno is never far from reach. 

We certainly are lacking many of the comforts of home here. We’re cold a lot, and we haven’t yet found a decent slice of bread. But there is something to the simple life here. It’s like the difference between those diabetic desserts and those made with real sugar and lard. One is richer and more satisfying.

Springtime Snow

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We had planned a weekend excursion to Punakha, the former capital of Bhutan. But the Himalayas had other plans, and surprised us with a spring snow. With the 10,000 foot Dochu La pass to Punakha closed, we bundled up and headed out for the girls first ever snowball fight. 

This was actually the first snowfall of the year in the Thimphu valley, and a national holiday was declared by the King. Early in the day the streets were packed with merrymakers, all wishing us a “happy snowfall”. Groups of Bhutanese, young and old, faced off on opposite sides of the road and pelted each other with snowballs. At home I would be concerned that Stella might get caught up in the crossfire as we made our way through town. But with typical Bhutanese politeness, every group we passed would ask “would you like to play?” before targeting us. Taxies with snowmen frozen to their roofs roamed by, occasionally launching a snowball from an open window. 

Even the memorial Chorten, normally a site of solemn prayer and meditation, got caught up in the playful antics. 

I’ve never seen such a festive and happy celebration of a snowfall. It’s as if the entire city spontaneously reverted to 8 year old  children, free from school on a snow day. 

Please click the link if you would like to make a donation in serving the people of Bhutan.