FOOD, GLORIOUS FOOD

Hello everyone. It's Betsy again. I know that those of you who know me have been wondering about my adventures with Bhutanese cuisine, and so I thought I'd fill you in. Some say that I'm a notoriously picky eater; I prefer to think of myself as discriminating. I know what I like and what I don't like. For instance, I've never been a fan of Indian food, especially after a traumatic incident in Amsterdam many years ago. And so you can imagine what a challenge two weeks in India was a couple of summers ago. I survived, however, and developed quite a fondness for Mojo peanut butter and pretzel bars. And so I came well equipped to the Land of the Thunder Dragon, in full knowledge that the thunder dragon breathes chilis.





The pre-trip reading we did was very clear -- to overcome the blandness of the local diet, the Bhutanese have cultivated many varieties of chilis, which they use absolutely unsparingly. They put chilis in everything. If they made chocolate cake (which, disappointingly, they don't seem to), they would add chilis. Even the white rice, which I thought I could use to temper the heat, has chilis! The other point emphasized in our pre-trip reading is the fact that the Bhutanese are aware that most westerners can't handle their fondness for chilis, and so they are kind enough to scale way back when they know they'll be having western guests for a meal. Well, I'm here to report that even when scaled back, the local dishes set my lips a-tingling. Wow -- I've never had anything so spicy!





But I've been adventurous and have tried many things ... and I'm here to tell you that aside from one night when I had pretzels and a York peppermint patty for dinner, I'm doing just fine. I've sampled several local dishes, although I've stayed away from the national favorite, ema datse, which is some sort of potato-cheese-chili combination that I just don't think my Irish ancestors would approve of. We had lunch one day while observing a puja (annual ritual) in a traditional Bhutanese home. I took a swig of arra -- local moonshine -- last night ... and yes, it curled my hair. The red rice is substantial and filling, and the veggies are actually quite good. The meat dishes are sketchier, and sadly, the Bhutanese just don't seem to believe in dessert (although I scored a Snickers bar for pennies in downtown Thimphu yesterday afternoon).

This afternoon, after several workshops at the college, Lee and I and the Wheaton faculty member in residence headed into town for our first taste of western food in a week. I ordered a cheeseburger and fries and Lee and Hyun shared a pizza, and we drank diet cokes and milkshakes while watching schoolchildren in kiras and ghos walking home from school. I chewed thoughtfully and listened to them laugh as they passed, and I found myself thinking about these children who eat a steady diet of chili-infused food soon after they're weaned from their mother's milk. I realized just what a lightweight I am when it comes to fire-inspired food.

Dancin' Machines

Our kind hosts sent us to Changlimithang Stadium to watch the dress rehearsal for Saturday's cultural activities celebrating the Royal Wedding. We stood on the sidelines and watched thousands of Bhutanese in colorful costumes practice their moves. So many dancers, in fact, that I wondered who would be left in the stands to watch.

The groups consisted of schoolchildren, monks, professional dancers, college students and others who had volunteered to join the fun. A voice over a loudspeaker called them for their turn, first in Dzongkha and then in English, and with a musical cue, each group headed out on to the field to perform either a ritual dance or a folk dance or some combo of the two. The music the monks danced to sounded very ancient--horns and drums--while the folk dancers' music sounded more contemporary.

Here's one group awaiting its turn. Of course, almost all were dressed in khira and gho, but some of the most beautiful we've seen.





There were also plenty of costume flourishes based on traditional Bhutanese, Nepali and Tibetan clothing, like these totally funky boots worn by many men (and envied by many women...okay, one: me):





It was the monk dances that particularly stood out because of their elaborate costuming. Here's a shot of a hat worn by a monk, who I'm sure was happy to take it off after rehearsal (it was very hot and bright on the field):






The pictures, by the way, were taken by Betsy. We were told when we entered the stadium that no photos were allowed, so let the record show that this may be the first time I did what I was told and Betsy did not. See? I am not always the bad influence on her that some suspect.

We stayed for almost two hours, watching group after group, hoping to see the students from RTC, but when we were told we were only on the 9th group and they were 18th on the schedule, we opted to head into town for some lunch. Betsy said to Diwash, our guide, "The King must be very patient to sit for that long."

"Oh, he won't," Diwash replied. "He'll sit for a little while and then wander around in the crowd and greet people." We heard things like that from a lot of people. The King is known as a man of the people, enjoying an almost casual relationship with them. He is informal and apparently just loves to hang out with folks. Of course, this makes sense when you realize that his father retired from the job and now enjoys biking around greater Thimphu and driving himself in a Toyota Hi-Lux pickup truck. They're just your average family with a security detail.

Security for all wedding events, however, will be very tight due to a bombing in Phuentsholing, a southern Bhutanese town on the Indian border, yesterday. Apparently it is a restive area with some active militant groups. The wedding itself will take place in Punakha, about three hours north of Thimphu in the dzong, or fortress, of the town. That part will be very private, as it is the most sacred part of the wedding. After that, the King and Queen will visit several towns before returning to Thimphu for the dance marathon on Saturday. Whether they will join the crowd in a Bhutanese rendition of the Electric Slide is anyone's guess.

Today's schedule for us includes meetings the management staff and academic program directors here at RTC. Our afternoon is free, so we may visit some of our students' internship sites. They are spread out across Thimphu at places like the Jigme Sangyel Gross National Happiness Elementary School, Kuzoo FM (the national radio station) and an NGO working on waste management issues.

Thanks for tagging along.

Location:Thimphu

Universal Truths About Students and Other Things

RTC has RAs and professional Resident Mentors who say that students don't always listen to them when they try and enforce quiet hours. Actually, here they call them "silent hours," which bespeaks a slightly higher level of expectation than we may have for our rowdy Wheaton folks.

Betsy, Hyun and I enjoyed two great conversations, first with members of the Student Government, and then the res life staff. SGA members feel they work hard, but students don't appreciate them, and don't want to do the work themselves. Sound familiar? And RAs like their work but struggle with managing their time and being good role models.

It's strangely comforting to know that students are students. Here's a picture of me with the Res Life staff. I had to ask the women to sit in front--they tend to be deferential, moreso than the men (though the men, by western standards, are also quite polite), because I want you to see their kira. The kira (for women) and the gho (for men), are the official national dress, and all students at RTC must wear them to all classes and events. There is a certain uniformity to Bhutan that is part of their effort since the 1980s to solidify their national identity. And yes, I felt underdressed.





Another way they enforce uniformity is through architecture. All new construction must follow the basic design elements of traditional Bhutanese housing. For example, windows must be a very specific style. This is a picture from the inside of a cafe where Betsy and I had lunch today (on the 7th floor of a small shopping center). Note the trefoil design.





Here's an exterior shot of a window in the same shopping center:





Almost all Bhutanese windows look like this--the painted wooden frames and the curved tops.

I took some other shots in downtown Thimphu today that I thought you'd enjoy. Monks in Bhutan (and there are a lot of them; in fact, it's a bicameral-like government with a secular head [the King] and a spiritual head who presides over the "monk body") wear red:





Twice, Betsy and I went into shops to find the shopkeepers nursing their children. They may be very modest people in some ways, but not when it comes to bearing their breasts at lunch time. And they are happy to show off their children, another universal truth:





They carry those children on their backs in slings:





One last shot from town: one of the many groceries. Buy local! (Because anything else requires a mountain traverse).

Location:RTC

The Road to Thimphu is Paved With Good Intentions (it is a Buddhist Nation, After All)

Greetings from Royal Thimphu ("tim-pu") College, a small (900 students) liberal arts college about 5 miles up a mountainside above the capital city of Thimphu, where about 20 percent of Bhutan's residents reside.

Let me say a few words about roads and driving in Bhutan, keeping in mind that paved roads are a rather new phenomenon, most of them having been built in the past two decades. And when they built them, they took a typical Bhutan approach of tending to the environment and conserving space. Their attitude seems to have been that a two-lane road is wasteful. All you really need is one and a half lanes and a spirit of generosity.

I wrote once, after surviving Egyptian roads, that in America, a beep of the horn generally means "look out!" while in Egypt, it means more like, "If you continue on the path you're on, I will hit you." Here in Bhutan, the translation is roughly, "Friend, I will soon be visible around this blind curve, and it would benefit us both if you stayed on your side of the road."

The highway from Paro to Thimphu is particularly new, shortening the drive from about 4 hours ten or so years ago to one harrowing hour now. The road follows a river, sitting hundreds of feet above it. Once in a while, a guardrail appears, indicating, I think, that this is a particularly likely place to plunge off the side. The Bhutanese have adopted the strategy of reminding people to be safe through a series of Burma Shave-like signs that provide helpful reminders of the nearness of disaster. At least they provided us some distraction: "Safe arriving means no liquor driving" was one. My favorite, though, said "This is a roadway, not a runway." The image of a car sailing off into the chasm was something that kept my attention on the road ahead. Not sure it had the same effect on Tsonam, our driver.

But we made it, and all is well here. We had lunch with the director of RTC, two of their deans, Hyun Kim (the Wheaton faculty member here for the semester) and two American faculty members, a couple named Doug and Janet, who have been here working as all-purpose administrators since RTC was founded three years ago. The director is Dasho Tenzing. I need to explain that "Dasho" is an honorific granted to royalty. Yes, Dasho is the husband of the Princess I met at the airport. I also met him there, but didn't make the connection to RTC. He is a very charming and thoughtful UC-Berkeley graduate who has overseen the development of the vision for RTC, and now manages its growth and reputation. He is very proud of this place (proud in a Bhutanese way, which in America would barely register on the pride scale). More about him in a later post, I'm sure, as we're having dinner with him tonight. I'll be sure and keep you posted on my adventures in Bhutanese royalty cluelessness. Please pray that I don't accidentally stumble into the King at some point and inadvertently give him a big American howdy and high-five or something equally impressive.

We had dinner with ten of the eleven Wheaton students last night (Heather Wilson has become the star of her residence hall basketball team and was playing in the "interhostel" final last night). We went to an Indian restaurant in downtown Thimphu run by a family whose toddler provided the soundtrack to the meal. I had a bottle of local beer, which I can't say will rank among the memorable beers I've ever had.





Here's a blurry photo of me with my students and Hyun along with a '99 Wheaton alum, Ugyen. He saw Billy on a street in Thimphu carrying a Wheaton bag and stopped him to say hello, so Billy invited him along. Small world..small country.





One last tidbit about the city of Thimphu: it is the only national capital in the world without a stoplight. This is not to say they couldn't use one, but they prefer to make do other ways. At the busiest intersection in the city, they use the old-fashioned method: a traffic cop. Here's a shot of him at rush hour, keeping the cars moving smoothy:





Quite a nice booth, isn't it?

Today we are heading to the rehearsal of the cultural activities that will be part of the royal wedding on Thursday. 160 of RTC's female students are doing a folk dance. I watched them practice yesterday on the soccer field, and it promises to be a spectacularly colorful event, so I'll do my best to get some good photos. In the afternoon, I am meeting the members of RTC's student government.

It's great to be here, great to see the students and hear their stories, great to hear from Hyun how we'll they're doing, great to hear from RTC administrators how much they appreciate their partnership with Wheaton. I am equally appreciative, and was especially so last night as a full moon rose above the mountain range, framed in a perfectly-sized notch in the landscape, and lit up the Himalayan sky.

Location:RTC

Worthy of the Hype: The Climb to Tiger's Nest

When all the guidebooks and previous visitors to a place tell you that something is a must-see, you can usually count on two things: crowds and something pretty spectacular. Taktzhang, or Tiger's Nest, delivered a bit on the former and big on the latter.

Taktzhang is the site of a monastery, and for the Bhutanese, it is a place of great spiritual significance. It is built on a site visited in the 7th century by Guru Rinpoche, considered by the Bhutanese to be the second Buddha and responsible for the introduction of Buddhism to Bhutan. Of course, when he visited the site, he did so riding a flying tigress, which made for a much quicker ascent. We went the old fashioned way: we trudged.

The main structure of Taktzhang was built in 1692, at the location where Guru Rinpoche meditated in a cave for three months. But other choesum, or small temple-like structures, dot the landscape below and above the primary Lhakhang (temple). From below, the Lhakhang looks like this:




The Bhutanese people make pilgrimages to this site several times in their lifetimes. They believe that as you climb toward it you can walk off your sins and pursue blessings. There are horses available for hire to take you up part of the way, but only tourists would avail themselves of that assistance. Smart tourists. Other tourists, like us, declare it hikable and commence from a small parking area for what is, on average an hour and a half-to-two hour hike.

Betsy and I were joined by Dechen, her cousin Pema, and the ever-patient driver and guardian Dashi, whom I suspect was told by Col. Kado not to let the visiting Americans fall off a cliff. Off we went up the trail, joined by elderly Bhutanese, families with small children, some strapped to the backs of their mothers, tourists from the far corners of the world, and a herd of small horses that knew their well-worn path and had no interest in sharing it with any of us. In fact, along with the wind whistling through the pine trees, the sound I will always associate with Tiger's Nest is hearing "Sorry! Excuse me! Sorry!" in multiple languages as horses with minds of their own ignored any attempt by their riders to avoid those of us on foot.

About halfway up is a cafe where you can stop for refreshments and consider the wisdom of proceeding up the second half of this steep climb. We stopped for a bit and rested. Dashi shared a chat with an old man we'd been hiking behind since the start:





The area around the cafe is full of prayer flags placed by pilgrims seeking blessings. Prayer flags are hung and left forever, or at least until they disintegrate from age and weather. So in a place like Tiger's Nest, you can find collections of flags that range from a hundred years old to brand new:







At that point, having walked off all the sins in my life I could recall, I decided
to press on, figuring I could bank all the blessings to be earned on the second half, as well as walk off any sins I couldn't recall, which might be the most important of all to leave behind on the trail.

There are also spots along the way where you can see the progress you're making toward your destination:





Such perspective provides a little encouragement. Horses, by the way, seem to resent people stopping to take photos of the view and may decide to nudge you off the edge if you're not paying attention. In fact, at one point, Betsy tried to anticipate the path of a horse coming down the trail, riderless, and almost got knocked on her ear, saved only by the quick reaction of Dashi, who caught her. I'm sure he didn't want to have to explain to Col. Kado why the nice American woman had a hoof print on her bum.

Pema and Dechen were good company. Pema is a sophomore at Royal Thimphu College, and the two of them grew up very close, so act more like an amusing pair of sisters. However, they met some guy at the cafe and headed up with him at a quicker pace than either Betsy or I were able to sustain, so for the second half, it was us and Dashi, hovering behind us, occasionally answering his phone and generally smiling at our attempts to avoid being trampled by horses on their way down the trail after depositing their loads up further.

There's a point on the hike when you are literally at the same altitude as the Lhakkang, which gives you a moment of great joy, and a good photo opportunity:







And then you realize that you're about to hike DOWN into a deep chasm which will, of course, require you to hike UP again. At that point, it is faith that moves you forward, that and the promise of a Mojo bar somewhere near the end.

We began the descent into the chasm which is bisected by an enormous waterfall criss-crossed by prayer flags.




Just across the bridge that traverses the waterfall, we saw Pema and Dechen high above us in a choesum, waving us up. A detour! One that involves another steep climb! Oh, goody.




But up we went, and found the two of them in front of a colorful altar and a statue of Guru Rinpoche's consort.





Each altar in the various choesum, along with those in the Lhakkang, are attended by monks who will also dole out holy water blessings. The monk in this particular cave, however, was busy:




We descended from there on very wet, steep steps, and then began the final climb to Tiger's Nest. The view was incredible, as you might suspect.




Views are one of the many things they do well here in Bhutan.

Up until 2005, only Bhutanese could enter this holy place, but now tourists, with a permit, can register at the top and have access. However, at the entrance to the Lhakkang, you must leave your bag, your camera, even your hat. The Bhutanese must wear only their traditional dress of kira (for women) and gho (for men). Pema, who had hiked up in pants, pulled a half-kira (long skirt) out of her bag and put it on, and we continued up the stairs into what is something of a complex: several rooms, caves with altars, stairs going in every direction like an Escher drawing. While Pema, Dechen and Dashi performed their ritual prostrations and received their blessings from the monks, Betsy and I plopped down on a rock and people-watched, happy to have both a seat and so many people to look at, each in colorful dress, even toddlers.

We were also happy to have our Mojo bars, though a dog heard our crinkling wrappers and came over to see what offering we might make to her. "Friend," I said to her, "Trust me: nobody comes between Betsy and her honey-nut-pretzel snack." She stared intently at Betsy long enough that I began to wonder if Betsy should give up the bar to a being that might one day be reincarnated as a faculty member in her Division. But at that point, the dog wandered off, and we were rejoined by our hiking companions and started the long hike down...then up...then down for good, Dashi ever watchful over us.




It was a privilege to see a place of such significance to these people, and to see how generous they are in sharing it with outsiders. They take great pride in its beauty, as well they should. It was one of the most amazing experiences I've ever had. Even the sore muscles I have as I write this early the next morning feel comforting, a reminder, I guess, of a perfect hike in a holy place under a bright blue sky high among the tallest mountains in the world.

Today, we're off to Thimphu with the suitcase full of protein, leaving our beautiful room at the Haven Resort. Lazhimbe jon! Goodbye!

Location:Paro

From the list of "Things the People of Bhutan Get Tired of Explaining to Visitors"

Bhutanese people often paint large penises on the outside walls of their homes. Dechen explained it this way: "We are a modest people. Evil spirits may be modest as well. So it is hoped that putting such a picture on one's home will ward off evil spirits who are too embarrassed to enter." This is the kind of logic that makes me feel very limited in my understanding of the spirit world.

Location:Paro

Smooth-talkin' American

I'd like to just say, in my own defense, that members of a royal family look a lot like normal people when they're doing normal people things.

Let me back up a bit. Our flight into Paro was everything promised by YouTube. We flew above and then alongside mountains, wingtips seemingly close enough to do a little edge-trimming on the mountain pastures. A man from Thimphu who had the window seat in our row was kind enough to let me trade seats with him so I could see it all up close. Seeing the Himalayan Mountains was breathtaking, and I will forever be indebted to this kind man, Kesang Namgyel, who works at the Bhutan National Bank. We exchanged cards as we were about to deplane, and as I handed him my card, a young boy in the row behind me spied it and said, "Wheaton! My sister goes to Wheaton!" So of course we ended up chatting, with me trying to recruit him despite his age (I'm guessing around 11). His sister Tenzin will graduate this year. And yes--what are the chances of that particular encounter?

We came off the plane, for which I had developed an unusual fondness (a flight path like that inspires such devotion), and headed for customs and baggage. This is Druk Air flight 129. Ain't she a beauty?





Bags collected, we waited outside for our guide. I ran inside to use the restroom, and when I came out, Betsy pointed to a woman on a nearby curb and said, "That must be Tenzin's mother, because she came out with her arm around that boy. You should go introduce yourself." She pushed me toward her, and I stepped up on the curb and waited for a moment while she spoke to another woman. When she looked at me, I said, "Hi! Are you Tenzin's mother?" She said yes, and I said, "I'm Lee Williams, the Dean of Students at Wheaton College." I reached out and shook her hand. She said, "Yes, my son said he met you. How long are you staying?" I told her we'd be here for a week, at Royal Thimphu College, and she said, "I'm sure we'll see you" (because it's that kind of country). We parted ways, and I went back to find Betsy and our guide, who showed up moments later, out of breath and apologetic for not finding us immediately. I said, "That's fine. I had a chance to meet the mother of one of my students."

"Oh, of course," replied Dechen (more on her in a moment). A little while later, at lunch, she casually mentioned Tenzin's mother...the Princess.

"Um...huh?" I asked, careful not to spit my tea across the table.

"Yes. She's the fourth king's youngest sister." [You may recall from our earlier lesson on contemporary Bhutanese history that the beloved fourth king abdicated in 2006]. I felt so incredibly dumb. Not because I didn't recognize her, as I've never even seen her picture before. She's a beautiful and impeccably well-dressed woman, but there are a number of Wheaton moms who match that description. I replayed the whole scene in my head, thinking that I was a complete oaf to just walk up to someone whose name is preceded by the letters HRH and basically say, "Howdy! I'm a pretty big deal at Wheaton! Kinda like a princess there, only without a bodyguard" (who, by the way, had sidled up very close to me as I greeted her, which perhaps should have been my first clue; in retrospect, I'm glad not to have caused an international incident by being thrown to the ground, arrested and deported 20 minutes after deplaning).

Dechen assured me that it was no big deal, that the Princess is very humble and very kind, and that she probably likes it when someone just comes up to her like that, since "the people in Bhutan would never do that. They would just bow and be very nervous around her." Not me! Nope! Howdy!

After recovering my composure, I resumed my wonderful day in the company of Dechen Yangzom, Wheaton Class of '09. Yep--our guide here in Paro is a Wheatie, and Betsy and I are her first "guide clients." She's actually employed in Thimphu at UNICEF, but her father, a friend of Wheaton to whom Alfredo (our Dean of Global Education) has entrusted my care, enlisted her services to play personal concierge and educator to Betsy and me. So she is giving up her weekend to hang out with us, for which we are immeasurably grateful. And how great it is for me to spend time with a Wheaton alum who loved her time in Norton and speaks with great affection about her faculty, friends, and John Bragel, our Director of Dining Services.

We spent a truly fun day being driven by the quietly competent Dashi, stopping for lunch in town and then heading to one of Bhutan's oldest temples, Kyichu Lhakhang. Built in 659 by King Songsten Gampo of Tibet to pin down the left foot of a giant ogress who was thwarting the establishment of Buddhism into Tibet, the temple is also a location for cremations, which Dechen described to us, along with other rituals related to death in the Buddhist tradition. Then we went onto Drukgyel Dzong, a fort built in 1649 in part to establish a trade route and ward off Tibetan invaders. Its success is evident in its name: "Druk" means "Bhutan" and "gyel" means "victory." Obviously, the relationship between Tibet and Bhutan is a rich and complicated one, with a shared religious tradition and ancient family ties.

I'll write more about our adventures with Dechen and Dashi tomorrow after our climb to Taktshang Goemba, or "Tiger's Nest," the most famous of Bhutan's monasteries. It is one of the most holy sites in the kingdom, and sits precariously on cliffs about 3000 feet above the floor of the Paro Valley. It's about a two-hour hike with some apparently sketchy stretches of narrow path along the edge of the cliff. Sounds like fun.

In the meantime, here are some pictures from today.

Prayer wheels at Kyichu Temple, being twirled by a man in the Bhutanese national dress (a "gho"):




Prayer flags across the path going up to Drukgyel. Flags like this hang everywhere in Bhutan, placed by people seeking blessings and enlightenment.




Drukgyel from below gives a sense of its strength and longevity:




The view from Drukgyel included brief glimpses of Jhomolhari, the tallest peak in Bhutan (about 24,000 feet). You can just make it out behind its twin peak, aptly named Jhomolhari 2:



If you look down from Drukgyel, you can see a broad expanse of rice fields on the floor of the Paro Valley. The palette of greens is amazing. Look closely and you can see two dots in a field on the right, figures clad in red, likely harvesting, or maybe just looking for something. Hard to tell from up here:





And for my sister Alyce, whose heart belongs to every sketchy-looking pooch on earth:





If she were to ever visit Bhutan, home to many, many stray dogs who nap without fear and then stay up barking all night, she might never leave. For other reasons, I may have the same problem.

Off to bed to rest up for tomorrow's climb and whatever (or whoever) else may show up in my path, prompting an enthusiastic introduction from me. Howdy!

Location:Paro