Bennett Jones LLP

I promised the folk at Bennett Jones LLP (my previous employer) that I would spin a prayer wheel for the health of those who kindly helped to cover some of my initial expenses. On Thursday last, we walked to a beautiful 15th century temple above Thimphu valley. The caretaker monk who lives at the temple allowed us to enter and offer prayers in the presence of a magnificent Buddha who sits in quiet and darkened majesty. We left gifts of a few Ngultrum and incense for the monk.

Outside, I had the opportunity to begin the several hundred spins that are owing to former colleagues at Bennett Jones. Again, I’d like to convey my many thanks to those who materially helped to bring me to Bhutan—the land of the thunder dragon.

Blessed Synchronicity

Every day I have more adventures than I’m entitled to. Here is a 30-minute tranche from today's adventures. Everyone who knows anything about Bhutan is familiar with the iconic Tiger’s Nest Monastery near Paro. We will be visiting it next Saturday. Today, after a wonderful hike to a 15th century temple (more about that in another post) we returned to a small Chinese restaurant in Thimphu. It was packed, this being the night before Losar—New Year’s Eve, in effect. Some of us were able to sit down while the rest of us waited for a table. A monk sitting with two small boys gestured for me to come and join him. Only one of the children could speak some English. But after much back and forth I discovered, through the facility of the child’s translation, that the monk with whom I was sitting was the Lama from the Tiger’s Nest! I’m only able to provide his name phonetically as I heard it from him: Lama Rinshing. He was in town to do some shopping for Losar. And how did it all end? We exchanged cell phone numbers, of course!

Go Gho Crazy!

Just have to let you admire my alternate, dressy gho. It’s easy to see how well I’m blending in here!

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.