Weekend Vignette #2: Carpe Diem, Carpe Nocturne

Once upon a weekend cheery,
there I pondered, accomplished (in theory),
despite many a bemusing event from the week before,
While I daydreamed, in reverie
Suddenly arose a quandary,
Making me an accessory
Accessory to plans galore.
Tis my friend, I realized,
Offering beer, hikes, and more.
The tale of which here lies below; a weekend vignette’s in store.

It was a Saturday. Like any Saturday I faced a serious dilemma: collapse into my bed for an hour-long nap so as to recuperate from a long week or use this precious time to capitalize on my freedom. Decisions, decisions. The hard fact of working as a teacher in Bhutan is that it is utterly exhausting, especially for us foreign transplants. I have spoken about this at length with a variety of my expat colleagues; some speculate the cause of our fatigue lies in our ambitious aims and general work ethic, some surmise it’s the overall lifestyle that wears us down, yet others hypothesize it is the incessant exposure to foreign bacteria. All are valid in my eyes. No matter how you look at it though we are only in Bhutan once and weekends like these are our only chance to explore and/or relax.

Fortunately I had plans to keep me from stasis. In the late afternoon Nakita and I were to meet some friends for a hike. But before that we, the dynamic duo, decided we had earned ourselves a nice, cold beer. So we met in the town square and did a few errands before we found ourselves at the front of the Wangchuk hotel, rather by chance. This hotel is the fanciest place in town and we had never been inside so it was worth a look. We weren’t disappointed. The ornate interior design, tile floors, and general sophistication had us floating on air. The bathrooms were pristine, the staircases spiraled, the walls decorated with art. Such simplicities to the west are ostentatious displays for such a remote location like Mongar.

Upon meandering into the dining hall we saw a veranda and quickly decided this would be a perfect place to spend our early afternoon. Once we found the wait staff we ordered some beer, pizza (PIZZA!), and momos (Bhutanese/Tibetan dumplings). Soaking in the sun we laughed away the hours, dabbling in philosophy, culture, and the simple joys of life.

Before we knew it, the clock read nearly four, the time we had planned to meet Peter and Ruth.

Peter and Ruth are a couple who volunteered at the Mongar hospital from February to May. Peter is a pediatrician originally from the UK and Ruth a retired nurse from Canada. Despite their advanced age, they are unusually spritely and adventurous. Over the months they were here I had spent plenty of nights over at their house drinking beer and sharing stories though we also would chart weekend hikes, play card games, visit our favorite restaurant in town, and tackle culinary challenges. They made for great company while they were here and I miss them greatly—but I’m getting ahead of myself.

On this day they had offered to take us on a hike the Gangala River. Mongar town is roughly a mile above sea level and at the top of a ridge, so visiting natural bodies of water makes for an exciting change of scenery. Nakita and I had wanted to go for weeks, especially since Peter had enticed us with tales of the wildlife. So, having finished up our afternoon treat, Nakita and I descended to the hospital housing and there we put down our bags before the four of us set off. We cut through a small trail on the outskirts of the hospital which lead to a hole in the fence before descending some hundred giant stairs into rougher terrain. Not 10 minutes in and we were engulfed by rural surroundings. The verdant greens of the jungle were nearly upon us as we passed village cow herders on the dirt road.

At some point we took a turn which led us past vertical prayer flags and banana trees until we came upon a prayer wheel being spun by a creek running down into the valley. Hydro-powered prayers—I like it. Further we descended until the sounds of jungle life filled our ears. It wasn’t all that precarious but the angle of descent was steep enough to occasionally merit the use of all four limbs. We stopped from time to time to ogle at birds (Peter and Ruth being bird-watchers) as well as the wild magnolias. At one point two blurs of brown about waist high darted across the path. I was surprised to hear from Peter these small creatures were deer—far smaller than any species I’d ever seen.

Roughly 50 minutes in we reached the river. What a lovely sight to behold after living up high for so long. The water flowed steadily over large gray rocks, twisting ever slightly through the valley. In order to reach a bridge we had to walk parallel to the water for some time. Looking down I couldn’t help but notice the copious amounts of wild marijuana growing near the bank. While there is a zero tolerance attitude toward drugs in Bhutan, weed seems to grow everywhere. To them it is quite literally just that, a weed.

At last we reached the bridge—a precarious mix of wood and bits of metal. Peter and Ruth assured us it is safe and I trusted in them, especially as it swayed and bounced with each step. We explored just a bit further but, with the hour growing late and the sunlight waning, it was time to return. Just as we passed the river crossing on our return we spotted two langurs playfully chasing each other through the trees.

Going back up the mountainside was a bit trying, but not enough to lessen our spirits. Back at the prayer wheel we ran into some of my students catching river crabs. We gave them a few treats and continued on our way, making it back to Peter and Ruth’s place just as the sun dipped behind the mountain. There we ate and talked for some time before departing.

I was tired to say the least and could easily have called it a night, but Nakita was dead set on snooker, so I decided to stick it out. We navigated our way to the building then conquered a concrete maze up until the parlor’s entrance. Walking through the door took us into a totally different world. Men in heated exchange spoke frantically as money was being thrown in every which direction. These men were clearly no amateurs. In the air was a faint but noticeable smell of cigarette smoke, a rarity considering its debatable legal status. I stood paralyzed by the intensity of life and sport taking place before my eyes. This scene was just so un-Bhutanese.

Nakita turned to me, wondering how we’d get a table. We were ruminating our options for a short while before the matron of the establishment walked over and introduced herself. She kindly escorted us to a corner of the room and removed a tarp, revealing a normal sized "practice" table. Not long after a group of three college-aged guys asked if we wanted to play against them. I, being rather unfamiliar with snooker, wasn’t too keen on taking on locals right away due to what I just witnessed, but they assured me they were still beginners. With a little extra coaxing from Nakita I decided to go with the flow. That always seems to be the solution in this country. As it turned out, we weren’t half bad and managed to beat them the first round—mostly by luck. During the second game they decided to substitute a friend in, which happened to be our downfall. We got our asses kicked, and that’s putting it lightly, but the experience was great fun—exchanging playful taunts and jokes.

Happily sated by the experience, Nakita and I walked under the stars in search of a taxi. The town was dead by this time save the faint glimmer of lights from houses across the valley, seemingly close yet so far away. With a little luck we managed to get a lift back to our respective places, bringing to an end one of the most eventful days of my time here in Mongar.