The New Normal

 In Mongar I live in a kind of apartment complex that resembles a large, blocky house. It sits on a hilly slope named after the surrounding pine trees (Chamshingpek) and looks out on the city and nearby mountains. I share the complex with a young married couple who live upstairs with their newborn and live-in babysitter and some other tenants that rarely occupy their units. A few dogs also call the area home, mostly because they have a constant source of food—that being anything washed through the drains into the surrounding aqueducts. They’ll eat pretty much anything and can be rather territorial of their space. Let’s just say we didn’t get along too well when I first arrived, but over several weeks came to a neutral armistice.  

The biggest perk to my place is its proximity to school. It only takes some 6 minutes to walk to the entrance of Mongar Lower Secondary School (and another 4 to descend its many steps to the main grounds). My walks to and fro have helped to keep me in shape as I must ascend and descend a great many times over the course of the week. I rarely get from A to B without running into some people or animals, be they far-flung villagers, cow herders, or even monkeys. This road is actually part of the pan-national highway so even tourists have been known to whiz by, probably gawking at the strange foreigner dressed in Bhutanese attire. I’d probably stare if I were them, too.

(The view from my office. You can 

see my house just below the 

yellow one in the background. )

(A monkey I encountered on the way to school.)

(My house just left of center 

next to a more traditional

style Bhutanese house. )

The inside of my flat, as I have mentioned before, is relatively spacious by Bhutanese standards because I have two bedrooms, a living room, a bathroom, and a kitchen. Unfortunately, the place has yet to develop much of a personality. Sure I have some tables and chairs, but the walls are pretty bare. I still have plenty of time to make it look presentable, but at present I am quite cozy. 

I occasionally have some visitors, but they aren’t your usual guests. The most common are spiders, varying in size from a thumbnail to a thumb in length. I’ve seen other creepy-crawlies but I couldn’t even begin to classify them for you. My favorite visitor was a 3 ½” grasshopper. I have no idea how he got in with his bulky body, but he surprised me one day when I found him sitting atop my bath bucket. As with all my guests, I escorted him out kindly via whatever container/tool was closest. I am trying my best to keep with the Bhutanese/Buddhist tradition of non-killing and most of the time it has worked out without casualty.

Life inside my four walls is anything but boring. Even the most mundane chores are new and different. And with the help of plastic buckets I am able to wash my dishes, clothes, and even myself! All of them require some serious effort from the arms and legs, as I have to squat on the floor and scrub, ring, and lather at length, but this is the new normal and I have come to terms with it.

I had some practice in the art of bucket baths when water shortages hit Dakar last year, but the weather was warm and the lukewarm ablution was welcome. Here it is different for several reasons. For those unfamiliar with the ritual, it is exactly as it sounds. You fill a bucket with water, you pour some over yourself, lather up, and pour the rest over you to rinse off. The bathroom is already cold and the tap is near freezing so I combat this temperature insanity by mixing it with boiling water. My fancy geyser (built in water heater) broke early in my placement and, without some shiny new parts, I am left to improvise using my 3L electric water boiler. To be completely honest, I like the ritual. The simplicity of it all is extremely efficient both in time and water conservation.

Finding and preparing food is a task unto itself.  Whenever I have free time, usually Monday afternoons, I walk some 15-20 minutes down to the market. Since Mongar is a “big city” it contains a large concrete open structure for vendors to sit and sell their goods. The top floor is devoted to locally grown goods. I try to buy from them most, but the quality is not always up to par and depending on when you come to stock up, they can yield plenty of bugs so I tend to supplement my purchases with vegetables from the floor below which offers imported goods from India. That being said bugs are somewhat unavoidable and occasionally, after all the effort of making a meal, its better just to eat them and pretend you never saw them than to throw everything out. They’re only little gnat-like things anyway. As you might imagine, my standards have adapted over time. The selection of produce at the market is rather limited since they reflect what’s in season. This means most of my meals consist of some variety of potatoes or rice with chilies, onions, tomatoes, and some other green veggie. I buy some canned goods when I can find them and have been known to make some cabbage salads or veggie soups, but avoiding a rice-based diet is virtually impossible here. Luckily I’ve never been averse to white rice so at this point, I am happy eating it. After stocking up on multiple kilos of food, I return to my home which is a non-stop uphill walk. The walk is grueling, but rewarding as it yields fantastic views of the surrounding valleys.

(The view from my place isn't so bad either.)

Even though adjusting to Bhutanese standards has taken some time, and may be farfetched to the average Westerner, I am still fortunate in many ways. I have everything I need and more thanks to my urban placement. Compared to some of my fellow BCF compatriots, I am living luxuriously. I have running water and electricity, not to mention a designated kitchen and bathroom with a western-style toilet. Many others in more rural areas lack such basic things. A great many have absolutely no access to internet and have manual-flushing squat toilets. Some cook via their gas stoves off the floor and a few even have to go out in search for water via inconsistent taps around their villages in hopes of doing their daily chores. The power of human adaptation is not to be underestimated,  as everyone still remains in their placements, slowly but surely navigating their new life in Bhutan.