Byers Without Borders

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Travel 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

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.

Lunch with Lamas

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The snows held off. This past weekend we finally made it out of Thimphu, our guide, OR nurse Sonam. 

I couldn’t be more proud of the girls. They stoically endured hours of vomit inducing mountain roads (Jen and Lily were the only ones to avoid a purge) in a tiny car that smelled oddly of lemon Pledge. 

In Phobjika valley, winter migration grounds for the blacked neck crane, the kids politely sat on the floor of a farmhouse and ate red rice, fried fresh cheese, and pork belly. While they didn’t clean their plates, they also did not balk or turn up their noses to our host’s meager offerings. 

In Punakha we visited the city’s Dzong (a mixture fortress, monastery, government offices, and court house). The Lama of the Dzong was impressed that we made the children wear Kira as a sign of respect. So he invited us to celebrate one of his junior monk’s recognition as master mandala maker. Mandalas are the highly symbolic art pieces that are painted on buildings, and canvas throughout the Buddhist world. In some ceremonies, the artists spend weeks creating mandalas of colored sand only to sweep it away in an acknowledgment of the impermanence of reality. 

photo by worldreligionnews.com

For our hosts, the party we joined was bit like an office event, celebrating a promotion. The celebrant’s family was present, and naturally, they insisted we partake of the food. Again, the girls rose to the occasion. Taking cues from the monks, they balled up rice and ate with their hands, in local fashion. They sipped at tea I know they dislike, and Lily sampled an egg of unknown vintage that even I avoided. If diplomacy can survive our current administration, my girls may have a future in it. 

Shangri-La 2.0

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In Dzongkha, Druk Yul is the name Bhutanese give their country. It translates to Land of the Thunder  Dragon. They should call it Land of the Thunder Dog. Packs of stray dogs infest Thimphu. To my torment, they sleep all day and bark all night. The four that camp out at our apartment entrance have become de facto pets for the girls. Gi-gi, Noodles, Grumpy Dog, and Russell. 

Despite difficulties sleeping, Bhutan continues to confound and delight us. In Delhi, Bangkok, Tokyo, or Hong Kong it was easy to find a 7-11, Kentucky Fried Chicken, or Starbucks. Not so here. There are no chain stores, no billboards (other than pictures of the king), and no 6-lane highways. So we buy our produce at the weekend market, fast food is a street vendor selling Tibetan Momos (steamed dumplings), and our coffee is the instant crystal type.  

Unlike other Asian countries we have visited, Bhutan is not rushing headlong into the modern/globalized world. They’ve seen the result such actions have taken on neighboring countries (deforestation, pollution, urban sprawl, crime) and politely said no thank you. Bhutan chooses to enter the modern age in its own time. 

And so, as recent as 60 years ago there were no paved roads connecting this landlocked country with the outside world. The first television signals were not received until the late 90’s. In 1989, as a way to preserve Bhutanese traditions, the government began actively promoting Driglam Namzha, a code of conduct that specifies how to behave like a civilized Bhutanese. The most visible sign of this commitment is the requirement to wear traditional dress (Gho for men, Kira for women) at school, in the office, or when visiting temples. 

The ethos of mindful-modernization permeates the entire culture. As part of its constitution, Bhutan maintains 60% of its land under forest cover. New construction must conform to traditional Bhutanese design. Even traffic lights are an object of scrutiny. When one was installed in the capital, the residents of Thimphu complained that it was too impersonal. After it was dismantled their city became the only world capital without traffic lights, leaving us to decode the movements of their traffic police. 

In tourist brochures and travel shows, Bhutan is often compared to Shangri-La, that fictional Himalayan paradise first described in the 1933 book Lost Horizon. Having seen maroon clad monks with smart phones, in a country that jealously guards its forests despite their economical potential, Shangri-La 2.0 is a more apt description. 

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.

V-Day is for Visas

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This blog post is written by talented husband Bill…….

V-Day is for Visas

At two weeks to departure and still no travel Visas, I awoke again with knots in my stomach. My hospital liaison has been steadfast in her insistence that they will arrive. She reminds me that Bhutan is a Buddhist country and that even their bureaucrats embrace the attitude of a natural unfolding of events. Apparently, my insomnia and acid reflux are part of this unfolding. Or, things just move slowly in tiny Himalayan countries. 

The significance of a non-tourist travel visa to Bhutan should not be diminished. This country only allows foreign tourists inside its borders on state sanctioned packaged tours that are taxed at $200-250 per day, per person. Trying to get my gang of five in for free has been a paperwork decathlon. Imagine filing your taxes using an abacus and carrier pigeons.  We’re talking
about a country that didn’t receive television signals until June 2, 1999. 

With thousands of dollars worth of plane tickets already purchased and over a month of school and work canceled, I think my anxiety is more than just a symptom of my non-Buddha nature. 

But during my run today, I was finally able to let the worry slip away. Maybe it was just oxygen debt, but I finally was able to concede that what’s left is beyond my control. I’ve done all that I can. Worrying will do no more. 

And then they came.


These Buddhists are already in my head.