The Summer Sojourner, Chapter 1: Stranger in a Strange Land

(My front door view now made lush by the summer rains)

The weeks prior to break were hectic to say the least. I had taken on 8 additional periods per week in the final month and found myself compiling grades for 10 different grade/subject combinations (a task that centers around 200 students and twice that many notebooks). In addition, as the English Head of Department I had to edit all subject-relevant midterm exams word for word as well as write my own, delegate, invigilate, and take place in mass-marking. If five months in the field hadn’t taken its toll, the final month certainly pushed me to the brink.

The fortunate side-effect of a non-stop lifestyle is that time passes rather quickly. By Tuesday, June 30^th, my bag was packed and I was eagerly awaiting my ride, my mind swimming in the wondrous potential of the upcoming two-week summer holiday. I, along with all those who joined the Bhutan Canada Foundation program this year, were bound for Trashigang, a quaint medieval-looking town at the base of a jungle valley. The half of our group that lay west of it had been picked up along the way over the previous day and a half and I was next in line.

After what felt like an eternity in wait, my BCF chariot arrived. I happily hugged my fatigued compatriots and hopped inside. As soon as I sat down though culture shock hit me like a slap in the face. Everyone spoke at lightning speed, their boisterous voices full of jubilation as they pored over subjects my brain was having difficulty comprehending. Surely I had not lost all intellectual capacity! No, no that was not it. I was merely rubbing noses with western discourse, which contrasted wildly against the quiet slice of life I had settled into. I waited a while before deciding to mention my unease, but luckily it was met with a chorus of empathy. Most, if not all, had navigated through a similar sentiment in the very recent past.

 

(The van crew, photo courtesy of Catherine and Holly)

 

We spent the 3-hour drive playing word games and catching up. Everyone looked thinner (by the diet and lifestyle, surely) and a bit more wild—a couple guys had even grown out burly beards. We spoke of rats and mold, educational faults in a system dependent on rote memorization, and our various horror stories involving some combination of the aforementioned factors. But we spoke of all these maladies light-heartedly, a skill cultivated here in a land where even the greatest of frustrations roll right off its people.

As we drove east I realized just how much the summer rains had brought greenery upon the already tropical landscape. The drive was subsequently full of eye candy. We started out climbing over the mountain ridges of Mongar province, eventually descending into cliff-side towns like Yadi surrounded by innumerable pine trees before coming out into a gorge with a massive river carving its way through. We drove parallel to the white water river for an hour, slowly descending when the landscape permitted until we crossed the river via a large iron bridge, again ascending an additional twenty minutes only to dip back down into Trashigang proper.

We stopped in town for only a few minutes, as this was not our final destination. Our retreat would actually take place some twenty minutes outside Trashigang at a resort called the Lingkhar Lodge. 3-stars by western eyes and 5 by the Bhutanese, this beautiful oasis sits above rice paddies looking out at a valley and 5 mountain tops within a 180-degree open vista. It is owned by a former minister and overall big-wig along with his much esteemed wife, Aum Deki. 

But before we could arrive, mere kilometers from the lodge, we were stopped in our tracks by a road block. An oversized truck used to carry heavy loads had fallen off the road some 150 feet into the jungle brush below. We all exited the vehicle to behold the ingenuity of the Bhutanese as a construction vehicle meant for digging tried to pull up the truck via a taut metal cable and improvised pulleys. As we came to learn, earlier they had cut the truck in two so it would be easier to lift. Slowly but surely they pulled out the front half, hoisting it into the air with the big metal scooper and drove ever so carefully to an area where it could dump the multi-ton hunk of mangled metal.

We arrived at the lodge just as night fell. We were greeted by Aum Deki, Nancy (our program head), and other BCFers who had arrived earlier. All 17 of our group were in attendance as well as two veterans from previous years. After dropping our bags off we happily dined on buffet-style Bhutanese food, chatting at length with any and all. The beer flowed freely as we prattled on and before long, the strange feeling tied to my paradigm shift fell away, yielding to a night of philosophizing and good cheer, ended only as we conceded defeat against our drooping eyelids.