The morning went by quickly as I had my last conversations with friends over breakfast. I watched them pack up then hugged everyone tightly as we parted ways for what would be the foreseeable future. It’s so strange how quickly friendships develop under unique and difficult circumstances. Our shared adventurous spirit coupled with our journey through the unknown and uncomfortable has created a strong and special bond.
The buses left and Nakita and I were left standing there. The feeling sank in. This is home now and our orientation is a thing of the past. The two of us utilized the hotel’s internet for as long as they would allow us before heading into town to get a lay of the land. We walked in every store that caught our eyes, eager to see what the town had to offer. We provoked the stares of curious onlookers as we walked from store to store. It appears that most appliances and goods available in Thimphu are also here, well most anyway. At the market we found three floors, all offering slightly different things. On the top floor were the local goods: daikon radishes, cilantro, potatoes, cabbage, carrots, cauliflower, chilies, and other common goods. The next floor had produce imported from India; eggplant, red onions, tomatoes, limes, even garlic. On the third and final floor is where meats are sold, of a standard much less desirable than in the capital. Nancy cautioned us to be wary of meat in the east, and since Nakita is a pescatarian, this problem is mine and mine alone. I don’t mind meals without meat, but every once in a while I’ll get a craving.
In Bhutan, you are not allowed to slaughter animals. This is the Buddhist way. But it isn’t as cut and dry as it sounds. If the animal were to “fall and die”, the meat is fair game. If an Indian national kills the animal, then it’s okay. If no one is there to witness the slaughter, then who is to say the conditions in which the animal perished? In the end, the Bhutanese like their meat and one way or another they will ensure it shows up on their plate. Who am I to judge?
After stocking up on the basics, I called my vice principal Karma. He was there to meet me at my home when I first arrived and said I could call him for anything. He didn’t disappoint as he took us out for tea and proceeded to inquire into our lives so as to know us better. Later he took us to his home and introduced us to his family before dropping us off at my place. Nakita couldn’t get a hold of her principal so we proceeded to walk up to her house, some 5 kilometers uphill with everything in hand. In truth, it wasn’t as bad as it sounds. We wanted to see how long it took to get to her place from mine and the walk offered all kinds of beautiful vistas and lush scenery. Some hour and fifteen minutes later we arrived at her doorstep. I bid her adieu and headed back, determined to beat the sunset.
I failed. Thirty minutes into the walk back down the windy road, the light disappeared and I found myself very, very alone. A small pack of dogs charged me, but thanks to my time in Senegal, I knew how to keep them at bay. Soon the road was pitch-black and my surroundings were full of strange and unfamiliar sounds. Bats flew just over my head, squeaking as they went. The breeze blew things in confusing directions and created unusual howls. Were it not for the flashlight Nakita had lent me, I would have been completely beside myself. I walked in the middle of the road for fear of encountering snakes and avoided passing cars as they sped by. Needless to say I was happy to find home that evening. My house a mess and totally unprepared for living in, I huddled in my bed around my blanket and wrote in my blog before watching a movie and falling asleep.
The next day I awoke around 9 and ate some nectarines and bananas to calm my growling stomach. Taking my time, I started moving things around a bit and assessed my home situation until just after lunch when I contacted Karma. Being ever-friendly and helpful, he invited me over for coffee. There his wife treated us to rice, chilies, and thick chunks of pork. Akin to bacon but thicker and full of fat, the meal was rich and delicious.
Karma is in his mid-thirties. He is average in height with a sturdy stature and a wide, friendly face, complimented by his sincere eyes and smile. He has been nothing but kind to me since we first met. Currently he is in his second year as vice principal at the school where his wife, Chimomo, also teaches. He seems inquisitive as to my travels and life since he loves geography and literature, as well as having traveled somewhat himself.
On this particular day Karma promised to help me get set up and carted me all around town to introduce me to people and help me buy all the things I needed. He took me down to the hospital where we hung out with some of the doctors and talked life and lifestyles in Bhutan. There I tried a hard yak cheese that you are supposed to suck until it becomes moist. Not terribly flavorful, but not bad aside from the odd texture, having been in my mouth for a half hour. He took me to the dzong for coffee and momos (dumplings). Then he took my list and proceeded to help me acquire every single thing on it. It may have taken hours due to the all the mingling, but at the end of the day I got to see a lot of the city, meet plenty of people, and get stocked to the nines!
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