On the Road, Day Three

I awoke later than most that Saturday morning, reticent to leave the warmth of the bed knowing full well how cold it was at that altitude. I joined the others for breakfast where we dined on a local delicacy, buckwheat pancakes. We packed up early because they had to rearrange all our luggage. One bus was staying in the area so that meant we had to squeeze Nakita’s and my things in the back of the pickup truck, while everyone else’s things were put atop or in the small bus. We were leaving four teachers behind: Holly, Sebastian, Cat, and Becky. They came with us the extra day just to see the country so now they were going to spend a day exploring before heading back west. I was going to miss Holly’s unwavering enthusiasm, Sebastian’s good humor, Cat’s zeal, and Becky’s easy going attitude. But we had to forge on and so after a tough but heartfelt goodbye, we hit the road, our number now down to ten.

In the bus we played a guessing game called Contact as we retraced our steps back to the main highway. The land turned into what I can only describe as Rohan-esque, golden hills with mountainous backdrops.

I knew that this was one of if not the very last open valley we’d see as the east is much more jagged and settlements tend to situate on the mountain tops. We began our long ascent to Thrumsingla pass, the second highest pass in Bhutan at 3800m. On the way up we passed a mountain village that reminded me of parts of Colorado, farm plots separated by crude wooden fencing and timber stacked everywhere.

Our climb continued for hours until we were in the clouds, surrounded by snow. At the top of the pass we stopped to stretch our legs and get some fresh air. Nakita and I circumambulated the chorten, our minds on the others beginning their new life, wishing for the release of their suffering.

Over the pass we descended for a while then had lunch at a small little restaurant. Their potato curry was especially delicious thanks to the chili oil which gave it a thorough bite.

Nakita and I couldn’t stay and mingle because we had to switch to the pickup. We had to get a head start so we could drop our things off at our new placements before meeting up with the gang at the hotel in Mongar. The driver was no-nonsense, whipping around corners and hitting bumps at full speed. The two of us acclimated and talked of our newfound life that was just around the corner.

Most of the drive was downhill. At one point we beheld the most magnificent waterfall spilling off into the abyss.

Soon the landscape changed. The pine trees were gone, replaced with thick jungle vegetation, vines, bamboo, and ferns. I put on some Album Leaf and the two of us soaked in the sights. Within an hour we were driving through a green valley. Crops surrounded us along with banana and orange trees. The beauty was almost too much to take.

A river ran parallel to the village, alongside the relatively new hazelnut plots. I would later come to meet several of the foreigners running the operation and learn a bit about the process.  Once through, we headed back up another 45 minutes to the city of Mongar. Suddenly the reality of it all began to descend upon me. Waves of jitters and joy hit me. Nakita asked if I knew what my school looked like, to which I replied I had seen a picture of it on the website. Just at that moment I saw it, the four main buildings sitting right on the edge of the mountain overlooking the most amazing view. We didn’t have time to stop, however, and we continued past the city to Nakita’s placement in Kedhekar, 5 kilometers out of Mongar. There we located her new house-to-be and moved her things into her residence. As it turned out, she lives above a general store in a kind of attic. The place is big in terms of space, with 2 bedrooms, two living spaces, a kitchen, and a bathroom. It has cement floors and running water, with a kitchen windows that look right out into the valley.

After dropping things off we all got back into the truck and drove back to Mongar. Well, almost. We stopped about a kilometer out of town and drove up a steep driveway. This was it. This is where I am going to be living for at least the next year. It’s amazing! It’s above the school looking out at the most beautiful vista I have ever seen in my life.

 (Only half of my view, this portion looks at the hills while the 

other overlooks a large valley and mountains in the distance )

We got out of the car to move things inside. My house has granite floors and baby blue walls, 2 bedrooms, a kitchen, a bathroom with a western toilet and shower head, and a living room. There are windows in every room and some basic furniture. I am definitely one of the lucky ones.
We met up with our friends just in time to meet several guests. An English/Canadian gentleman named Peter and his wife Ruth joined us for dinner by Nancy’s invitation. He is a pediatrician working at the city’s famous hospital. Not long after they arrived Nakita’s and my principal both arrived. Nakita’s principal is a short man with what I can only describe as a most jolly face. He is such a happy man. My principal is also very kind and approachable who appears very wise and contemplative. We sat by our respective bosses for dinner and got a chance to get to know them better. As we ate four more guests walked in. These were the runners of the hazelnut project. We also had one more guest later on, a district representative who is high up in the ministry.

Nancy treated us to wine and from there the conversations flowed freely. Over the next hour I had a chance to speak with everyone as well as learn more about my school and upcoming position from my principal. I learned he, Mr. Kinley Dorji, speaks eight languages. 8! Most Bhutanese can speak at least three, which is impressive on its own, but eight? Wow!

After dinner most were feeling tired so they went to bed, but a few of us planned to put the early wake up time in the back of our minds. We were told about a strange place where you pay women to dance in full kira and can dance alongside them—at a few arm’s length distance, as if it were some kind of PG strip club minus all the sexuality. It sounded strange, but Nakita said let’s go so half-intrigued, half-confused we follow the hazelnut crew into town. Lo and behold, it was as they said. Women and men were casually dancing to Hindi and Bhutanese songs. Young women came up to us and tried to get us to pay for them to dance. But it’s not really even dancing. It’s more of a swaying motion. At one point we all hopped on stage with a group of men and danced to a Hindi song. The whole affair was just too bizarre for me. Unfortunately some of the patrons were intoxicated and had to be escorted out (without force or judgment, mind you). Other than their behavior the country is utterly wholesome. In my time here, I’ve even seen graffiti that says “I love my parents”. Anyhow, as I said the whole thing was just too strange so we left the hazelnut bunch there and went to bed, laughing about the insanity of it all.