Chillies and Dragons: 2015

Teachers both past and present warned me that the end of the year would fly by. Looking at my calendar in the thick of it not two months past, however, I remained skeptical. There was so much to do, after all and my mind was wrapped around the present. But by the first week of November academics started to wind down. Final lessons soon yielded to review, which, due to impromptu schedule changes and need for extracurricular projects, turned out to be frustratingly curt. Ahead of me lay a slew of holidays which would require my full attention.

The first event was perhaps the most important, but first a little background. The 4^th Druk Gyalpo, Jigme Singye Wangchuk—otherwise known as the previous king of Bhutan—became the king of Bhutan at the tender age of 17 due to the unfortunate passing of his father. His tenure as king was extremely productive, which is a huge part of why he is so cherished even today. He introduced the country into the modern era through a series of reforms (construction of a pan-national highway, supplying electricity to far flung villages, introducing TV and internet to the country, developing international relations, etc.) as well as implementing Gross National Happiness, voluntarily transitioning to democracy, and abdicating his throne to his son—an action never done before in the Bhutanese monarchy.

This year, K4 was to celebrate his 60^th birthday, which is a big deal. Sixty years is an important milestone in Bhutan because of its religious and astrological significance. In Asian cultures there are 5 elements: wood, fire, earth, metal, and water. There are also 12 zodiac signs, all representing different animals both fantastical and mundane. Each lunar year is thus assigned an element and a zodiac, which after 5 cycles of 12 (equating to 60) completes. This means when one turns 60 years they have seen all variations of astrological influence. The 4^th and 5^th King of Bhutan share a celebrity status here and virtually every house has at least a handful of pictures of them on their wall, so for such an occasion to arise merits country-wide celebration.

As per conventional celebrations of the kings’ birthdays, there would be a marching procession, cultural dances, and competitions. The festivities would be further enhanced by decorating the entire town in lights and colored flags, renovating various public spaces, and hosting more opportunities for song and dance. The king’s birthday celebration spanned three days, all designated as public holidays, however we teachers and our students still had responsibilities during this time.

On the first day we all arrived at school and had our morning prayer then we went as a large group to the dzong to be blessed by a lama and pay our respects. Wearing my gho and a kabney—a kind of cloth sash worn for official visits and religious ceremonies—I walked up with a few teachers and we proceeded to violate the sanctimony of orderly queues, which seems to be the norm here unfortunately. The dzong was incredibly crowded but, touting our status and just generally acting Bhutanese, we managed to cut off at least an hour and a half in line, squeezing through into the temple area of the dzong and eventually being blessed.

The process is interestingly rather like a factory. First I bowed before the great lama and covered my mouth in respect and he bonked me on the back of the head with a religious object. I then gave a small offering to the collection box and was given holy water and a kind of sweetened dough blessed by monks, not unlike communion in the Christian faith. Next I was given a different kind of holy water with trace amounts of alcohol and a blessed necklace which one should wear until it naturally deteriorates. After exiting toward the back we were given naja (sweet tea) and biscuits. After some time we returned to school where teachers continued work on a chorten (otherwise known as a stupa or pagoda) being constructed at our school specifically for this occasion.

On the second day our school hosted a cultural information session in the multi-purpose hall. Students presented on nearby temples and their significance, as well as the importance of traditional endeavors in the agricultural and textile industries. There were also traditional and modern dances to boot. The program was split about 60-40 in Dzongkha to English and snacks were served to teachers as well as students. Afterward more work was done on the chorten, putting in the final statues and sealing the outside with glass window panes.

That evening I went down into town to observe the evening show in the Children’s Park of Mongar. The whole city had been dolled up with lights and the park itself had been updated and given a fresh coat of white-wash paint. The event was impressive. Normally where the fountain statue stood was a wooden tower with picture of the 4^th king on all four sides. On the far side of the park there were also portraits of the 5 Kings of Bhutan as well as a stage where youth and adults performed over the next two days, singing and dancing to modern and traditional tunes. I stayed for some time, mostly looking around in awe at this humble town turned electric. It was beautiful, undoubtedly the most beautiful the city will ever look, and I couldn’t help but slow down and enjoy the scenery, despite the blaring songs and crowds that screamed for my attention.

The third day was the most important. The entire town gathered at the public football ground. There tents and flags had been erected for this very occasion. I, donning my matta gho (checkered-style national robe) and pea-soup green sash, arrived to take part in the march procession. I had been practicing with hundreds of other civil servants over the last several weeks, lining up and orderly marching around the field. It felt odd being the only foreigner out there, my other two foreign teacher friends abstaining for various reasons, but it was a fun cultural experience. Today, however, was show time. In true Bhutanese fashion there was about an hour of standing around before people lined up and the program began. Once it began we stood perfectly straight and still whilst announcements and introductions were made. At one point they broadcasted the celebrations in Thimphu. The late morning sun shone intensely on my face and after a good half hour, the king insisted we all take a seat. We sat cross-legged on the grass and dirt pitch and listened as the 4^th and 5^th kings gave speeches completely in Dzongkha for roughly an hour’s time. Afterward we were back in our lines yelling, raising our arms in celebration of the country and its beloved leaders then we were off, marching around the field, turning only to make eye contact with the Dzongda (governor) and various officials at the main podium.

Afterward the lines dissolved and performances by students went on. I took this opportunity to run home and change into something more casual, knowing full well I’d be spending the day and evening in town. I returned and met up with my friend Nakita whose sister had come to visit. We sat in the back of the tents by a large gathering of child monks and chatted away. The performances went on for another few hours. Afterward people bumbled around town until the sun set. In the meantime the three of us popped into my favorite restaurant and enjoyed a few beers with some Bhutanese friends, which ended up leading us to karaoke and the drayang—a kind of venue where you pay to dance or watch people dance in traditional garb—a very strange place indeed. Eventually we returned to watch some of the entertainment in the children’s park before calling it a night.

The next evening Nakita, her sister, and I were invited to join in a Diwali celebration from our Nepali friends. Diwali, also known as the festival of lights, is a Hindu holiday celebrating the goddess of prosperity Lakshmi; this year it was scheduled for the 11^th of November, but it was moved to the next day because of the king’s birthday. We convened at Sharma’s restaurant and awaited the festivities to begin. Wet rice was caked onto the center of our foreheads and soon there was singing and dancing, which we took part in, followed by food, offerings, and blessings. It was quite the joyous occasion and our hosts planned to celebrate in a similar fashion at several houses over the evening, forsaking sleep altogether. While I certainly admired their longevity, I could not do the same as I had school the next day.

That Friday our school held its annual picnic. I awoke with a pounding headache but managed to sort myself out and get down to the school soccer field. There the older students were helping in preparation for the meals ahead. Some were stirring gargantuan metal pots filled with rice over a bonfire while others were chopping or peeling vegetables or taking the shells off boiled eggs. I sat in the sun nearby for some time before being dragged to the adult’s area to watch some performances by students and talk adult talk. I managed at various points to escape, however, and spend time with the students. I enjoy their company, sense of humor, and optimism, plus they make an effort to speak English to me which, unfortunately, is just not that common in large groups of adults.

Tea and saffron rice were served in the earlier hours, then after the performances we had lunch. It was a great feast of boiled eggs, rice, various curries, and ezze (a kind of spicier version of pico de gallo). The students all seemed to be having a ball which was nice to see. After lunch most of the students went home, leaving their uneaten leftovers for the scores of dogs who seemed quite happy in our company. Meanwhile teachers helped put things away while the administrators and some of their guests sat and drank arra.

The following week Mongar held its tsetchu. Tsetchu is a kind of annual religious and cultural festival that takes place in all 20 dzongkhags (provinces) of Bhutan at different times, as pre-determined by lamas consulting astrology. It is a time for mask dances by monks as well as singing and dancing traditional songs, spread out over 4 days. Tsetchus and their ambiance seem to differ based on the population. From talking with my friends, most had rather low-key celebrations, whereas Mongar—with a population of about 5,000—had ambitious plans. The football pitch, the one used for the king’s birthday, had been completely overtaken by stalls covered in blue tarp. Within this winding maze were curios shops, furniture and domestic accessory stores, shoe and toy shops, religious and cultural relic stalls, restaurants, bars, and game areas. With this began a rather amusing routine of mask dances at the dzong during the day followed by games, fried food, and drinks by night.

National board exams were inconveniently scheduled during this time so on Friday I spent the morning invigilating exams, but my other days were free so I took the opportunity to clean up around the house, go for walks around town, and of course, visit the dzong and night market. Nakita’s sister had left the day of so it was up to us to bring the party vibe to Mongar. We toured the place the first night, eating chili chop (large chilies battered and deep-fried) and momos (Tibetan dumplings) and meeting familiar and new faces at our friend Dechen’s bar. On occasion we would tour the area and take part in the games. One game we enjoyed was a dart game. On the table in front would be three different symbols: spade, diamond, and heart. First you’d place your bet on the symbol before throwing the dart at a spinning board. Wherever it lands would determine if you win double, triple, or quadruple your bet, or lose it all to the house or another suit. The two of us not being big betters played with 5 and 10 notes (~6-12 cents), whereas I heard over the ensuing days that many lost thousands to these games. After sometime we returned to Dechen’s and proceeded to commence a dance party within the stall, drawing curious onlookers and the occasional participant. This went on until it was well past bedtime when we hitched rides back to our respective homes.

The mask dances that early afternoon

The dart game

The second day I took it easy, but on the third after invigilating it was back to the night market. This time Nakita introduced me to a game called “lucky dip”. For this you give a fixed amount, usually 20Nu, then you pick a small rolled piece of paper from a basket. You unravel it and it tells you what you win. The prizes ranged from cheap knick-knacks and children’s toys to religious altar items and statues. I won some less-than-cool items, but I did manage to get a ring out of it which was nice. Otherwise the night’s natural progression of food, games, beer by the warmth of the bukkari (wood stove) and dancing continued much in a similar manner. That night I befriended a bunch of engineers working nearby, who provided great company. They even joined in on the dancing!

Classes 3 and 6 at school for national board exams

Board exams in our MPH

Night market

On the fourth day I met Nakita at the dzong as it was the last day of tsetchu. Everyone there was dressed in their finest gho and kira, including several of my students. We watched for a bit before joining in a huge line in order to be blessed. After a few hours we made our way down to town and enjoyed one last night of festivities. It was a lot of fun and apparently we had made quite a few friends over the last several days as everywhere we turned were people smiling and inviting us to join them. Community is huge in Bhutan as it is, but for everyone to let their hair down while enjoying each others company was a welcome sight. I certainly had fun, but I was ready to rein things in after several days of fried foods and a seemingly never-ending supply of 8% beer.

The remainder of November was spent proctoring and marking exams. In the mornings most teachers would have exam duty where we followed a fairly regimented protocol. Sitting and watching students take a test for two hours can certainly be boring, but all teachers were served sweet tea in the middle which I really appreciated as the buildings had only recently become very cold with the onset of early winter weather. After lunch departments would convene together to collectively mark whatever grade had taken their respective exam that day. There were 7 English exams over the course of a week and a half and each exam, despite having 6-8 people there to mark, would take roughly 3 hours to grade. It is pretty tough work grading hundreds upon hundreds of essays, but my coworkers seem to be unfazed, speaking exuberantly in Dzongkha about a great variety of topics from furniture to the nature of god—or so I gathered from the occasional English word and contextual clue.

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The last two highlights of the month are rather random, but I shall include them nonetheless. One day I was invited over to a coworker’s house to partake in a regional delicacy from Bumthang dzongkhag (about 6 hours drive by car): kuli, a kind of buckwheat pancake. Bumthang, with its high altitude and rather cold weather, traditionally did not (and could not) grow rice. Instead they’d grow alternate grains such as barley and buckwheat. Only recently has the region, thanks to experimental farming, managed to find a strain of rice that can handle the altitude and temperature.

Anyhow Karma Rigzin, one of two vice principals at my school, picked me up along with his son and niece and together we went to madam Karma Lhamo’s house. It was built in a traditional wood style with steep steps. Inside was a cozy little oasis with deer masks on the wall, portraits, and all kinds of colorful decorations and relics. We were served tea and crackers and talked casually as our host made the final touches on our dinner.

Now when I think pancake, I traditionally imagine butter, syrup, and jam as acceptable toppings—maybe even strawberries and whipped cream which I had a huge appetite for as a kid. In Bhutan, however, buckwheat pancakes are served with ema datsi (chilies in a cheesy sauce), the national dish. Despite how odd it might sound, it is remarkably delicious and warming, too. It was during a moment of thanking my host that I realized what day it was: Thanksgiving! How fitting that I, making a home in a foreign land, would sit down with people from another culture and eat together, sharing perspectives on food and life through our cultural lenses, all the while expressing our gratitude for each others company. How apt!

The next day she brought more to school and the English department had a great feast for lunch!

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On the penultimate day of November Nakita and I decided to go on a hike. The weather, during the day time at least, is warm and pleasant and we had been putting off the expedition for months. Much earlier in the year we would go on hikes with our friends Peter and Ruth, a couple from England and Canada who were working temporarily in the hospital. They had told us that high above the village of Kadam was a temple with a solitary monk, and on this day Nakita and I were determined to find it. We set out around 10 and ascended to Kadam, a simple 30 minute walk. From there we met a path and followed it past all civilization into the jungle itself, climbing up and up for hours. We passed the time talking about all the things we’d miss about Bhutan and all the things we were looking forward to on our next adventures. After some time we finally found a temple. There was a beautiful view of surrounding villages. We met a monk and through our mutual unintelligibility managed to work out that we would like to visit the inner sanctum, but not before a black dog came running up to me as if I had known it its whole life. No dog has ever done this to me in Bhutan and it didn’t share the same affection to Nakita as it did I. It’s hard in moments like this not to recognize karmic connection. He followed me around until we finally went inside the temple. There we paid our respects and were given holy water. The monk then offered us tea and a little while later we were invited into his quarters to sit and drink some sweet tea. He was surprisingly talkative for someone who didn’t speak a lick of English so we tried our best to piece together what we could from our limited Dzongkha and Sharchop as well as visual and auditory contextual clues. From what we gathered he is the youngest of his family, currently somewhere in his early 30’s. About 15 years back he suffered an automobile accident which paralyzed one side of his body and has since been a monk in a couple different temples, eventually situating at this small lhakang. What a place to live! After tea and some ensuing conversation we thanked him profusely and contemplated where to go next. I had brought some homemade Phad Thai to enjoy as a picnic lunch but we wanted a nice place to sit and eat so, spotting a small trail and feeling compelled to follow it, we walked up for another 20 minutes. We kept saying only a few more minutes before we’d turn around, but seeing as it continued to ascend, we figured there must be a peak somewhere nearby. About halfway up I realized my little canine friend had followed us, intent on sharing in our adventure. Eventually we found the peak, an absolute oasis atop the roof of the world.

At the top was a small clearing and two traditional houses, both empty at that moment in time. We walked around to check out some prayer flags when we caught view of one of the most beautiful sights I have ever laid eyes upon. Here was the other side of the mountains, a side I had never seen before, and its vastness cut deep into me. I felt immeasurably small among such grandeur and yet there was a feeling of connection with the land and its villages which dotted the landscape. We walked through a field of ferns before settling on an area of relatively flat land and ate our lunch overlooking the magical view. I never wanted to leave; it was too perfect. I wanted to build a shack and forsake the world evermore just to sit and stare out at this perfect encapsulation of Bhutanese natural beauty. But alas as the hours passed we needed to go back into town before the sun fell behind the hills and brought the cold night upon us and so we did, but not before snapping a few dozen pictures.