A Trip to the Barber

I’ve just returned from the barber shop and I am born again! For 70 Ngultrum (about $1.60), I received a wonderfully stylish haircut plus a full chiropractic treatment. The latter was totally unexpected and more than a little shocking. The barber (a very small Indian man) placed one fist on the top of my head and then started hammering with his other fist with a passion that made me cry out. This he continued to do, striking my head from several angles until I felt movement and heard noises deep within my cranium. The teenagers who had gathered outside the shop door howled with laughter. The barber grabbed my face in his fingertips and pushed nose to ears, lips to eyes, and forehead to chin. My neck was snapped and cracked, my arms were twisted behind my back and the length of my spine was pummelled. The strength that this little fellow employed was truly amazing. Before long I was both yelping in pain and laughing loudly, astonished by the sight of my pomegranate head in the mirror. Everyone in the shop laughed at the entertainment I provided. When I paid for the service I felt newly liberated, not just from the hands of the barber(!), but from unseen worries and concerns. A new-found confidence propelled me into shops along the road; it was the first time I've dealt with shopkeepers without the assistance of the kind Bhutanese men who work for The Bhutan Canada Foundation. And so I began my search for the many things I’ll need to buy in order to set up house in Chumey where I begin teaching in two weeks time.

Good to Gho!

The gho is traditional men’s wear in Bhutan. The government of Bhutan requires all men to wear the gho if one works in a government office or school. Today, my colleague Nick Morris and I went shopping for ghos with the capable purchasing and bargaining assistance of BCF employee, Nima (ka drin che, again, Nima!). Although it looks like nothing more than a knee-length house coat, Nick and I worry that it will take some time before we are able to dress ourselves without the assistance of an experienced dresser. (The young men at the front desk of the Yeedzin Guest House have promised us that they will help us into our ghos in the morning.) The gho falls to floor length until hiked up and neatly pleated in the back, all held in place with a tightly cinched cloth belt or kera. Underneath, a short silk shirt is worn with startling bright white cuffs that wrap several inches up the forearm. I chose a traditional pattern for everyday use (click picture for larger view) plus an additional, brightly coloured pattern for special occasions. Tomorrow I will wear the latter (with black knee socks and dress shoes, natch) to sign my contract with the Royal Government of Bhutan. Nick and I attracted a good deal of attention from passers by after we had completed our purchase. I must confess I felt a bit like the emperor with his new clothes. A passing monk stopped to adjust one of the pleats on my gho before allowing me to continue.

I am Here

After 26 hours in transit I stepped off the Drukair plane at Paro Airport and burst into tears! The morning sunshine pouring through the mist on the mountain tops, the men in their ghos running across the tarmac, the airport, shimmering with meticulously painted patterns, all of these new impressions entered my sense organs and my heart simply exploded! (I’m not generally given to “bursting” into tears!)


I’m now in Thimphu. This posting is simply to say that I’ve arrived in Bhutan safe and sound after 26 hours in transit. I travelled with the wonderful Ann Berman, a new-found friend and fellow teacher. We kept ourselves in good spirits, and giggled especially with our precise and elaborate preparations and attempts to sleep. The final Drukair flight from Delhi to Paro was breathtaking with glorious views of the Himalayan mountains.

A one-hour drive from Paro to Thimphu confirmed that this country is spectacular and beautiful. After a much needed nap, I wandered down main street Thimphu and eventually met a young Indian man who insisted on accompanying me to a restaurant for a very late lunch. Then I had more sleep which was followed by unpacking my bags for my two weeks at the Yeedzin Guest House.

It’s just past one in the morning. I’ll put in my earplugs, the barking dogs will fade away, and I will disappear into my dreams.

Be the Aperture

I dreamed last night I was in Bhutan standing in a great valley. I watched a Christ-like figure come down from a high hill followed by a group of photography students. I moved closer to hear what he was saying; “Be the aperture.” Some students wrote his words down in small notebooks. He then turned to me and repeated, “There is nothing for you to do here; only be the aperture.”
Advice as I leave for Bhutan today; I couldn’t have asked for anything more profound.

I Haven’t Told Mom

There are so many things to remember: I have lists that detail what needs doing, what needs bringing, who I need to contact, and at any given moment my unconscious mind busies itself with details. Since I made the decision to move to Bhutan there’s a thought that pops into my head every two or three days with a sort of panicked urgency—I haven’t told Mom—which is quickly followed by the mist of sadness that everyone who has lost their parents knows. Mom doesn’t know I’m off to Bhutan; she will never know. But my mind sometimes imagines she is aware of my plan; that somewhere far off where the perished and lost loved ones occasionally view the lives of those they left behind, my mother is sitting in a darkened cosmic cinema watching while I attend to all that needs attending to, and she’s thinking to herself, “garsh… isn’t that something.”

One day long ago my Mom confided in me some little worries she carried in regard to each of my sisters. At the end of it I asked her: What do you worry over for me? And I was surprised by the answer: “I never worry about you. Since you were little I always knew that you would be alright.” So, sometimes, when little doubts arise and catch me unaware, I try to remember my Mom and the off-hand and casual confidence she bore into me.

Gross National Happiness

Bhutan, as you might know, is a country that strives to practice and measure Gross National Happiness, with education being one of nine identified spheres that contributes to the collective goal of achieving happiness. Eight Canadian teachers are traveling to Bhutan (through the facility of The Bhutan Canada Foundation) to work with local educators to help facilitate the transition to a newly reformed, child-centred curriculum that stresses interactive teaching pedagogies.

I imagine that children in Bhutan have many venues in which to learn meditation, but I’m keen to teach meditation to students (as I understand it from 20 years of practice) at an age-appropriate level, and help them to apply the skills of attention and focus to their studies. I'm curious to discover if children in Bhutan are less afflicted with problems associated with "attention deficits" than are some of the children in the classrooms where I did my practice teaching in Toronto. I was encouraged to uncover a reference to teaching meditation in schools as a fundamental organ for increasing gross national happiness.† I suspect the fear of stirring up a religious hornet’s nest or—more likely—a non-appreciation of meditation practice has prevented western educators from perceiving the benefits of inner practice, whereas in Bhutan meditation would seem a natural fit. I'll let you know how / when / if this experiment proceeds!

†“Role of Meditation in Achieving Gross National Happiness” by Khenpo Phuntsok Tashi, a conference paper included in the Fourth International Conference on Gross National Happiness held in Thimphu, Bhutan presented by The Centre for Bhutan Studies in November, 2008. http://www.bhutanstudies.org.bt/admin/pubFiles/19.GNH4.pdf

See also: Proceedings of the Fourth International Conference on Gross National Happiness held in Bhutan, November 24-26, 2008 http://www.bhutanstudies.org.bt/main/gnh4.php

Say Yes to Bhutan

© The Globe And Mail, January 2, 2010: "There was a time not too long ago when Bhutan had no currency, no phones and no electricity. Until 1972, outsiders weren't allowed into the tiny Himalayan kingdom. But times have changed, and despite its isolated locale and seemingly archaic practices, Bhutan is now welcoming foreigners in its own way. Measures are in place to avoid overcrowding and to attract the “right crowd”. This is not a place for budget travellers: Visitors have to pay a minimum of $200 U.S. per day, and sightseeing excursions are limited to guided visits to stunningly positioned Buddhist temples – the Tiger's Nest Monastery hangs on a sheer rock face – and mountain hikes like the Jhomolhari Trek, which passes through remote villages. In the end, it's a small price to pay to visit the happiest country in the world, where people value Gross National Happiness over Gross National Product."