Andrew Singer Talks About China and America

Vol. 3, Issue 16

The Land of the Thunder Dragon (Part 3)

This American Thanksgiving week, I am returning in prose to Bhutan (I realize I may not have actually left other than physically). This journey took me outside of myself, for which I am thankful. Today’s Issue comes down from the mountains (see Part 2) and enters the vibrant valleys of this Buddhist land.

Paro Valley

Bhutan, a land of mountains, is also defined by the valleys where chhu (rivers) have sliced through the mountains over the ages. It is in these valleys that villages, towns, and the nation’s one city (Thimphu) are located, crops are grown, and festivals take place. And yet the mind picture I had that these valleys would be flat, open areas is so not the case. We left the familiar, connected, 21st century grid to saunter along rolling riverbanks, pick our way carefully through agricultural fields, and hike hill ridges overlooking the valley bottoms below.

Bumthang Valley

In central Bhutan, a gentle, dirt road leads from the oldest temple in the country, the 7th century Jampa Lhakhang, to the Kurjey Lhakhang complex (see Part 1). We walked the short distance (only two km) from temple to temple past wild marijuana growing on the roadside, fences marking farming fields, and a woman walking the other way.

A group of men and women up on the right are harvesting rice. I semi-jokingly say, “let’s go see them,” and then boom, Rinzin, our guide, is leading us through a low gate and out across a crunchy, already-cut section of muddy field. While watching the workers, I ask (through Rinzin speaking Dzongkha) if I can join them. I do not know what possessed me. I certainly would not have asked if I was visiting an American farm. And though open to the belief, I am not so sure that karma led me to it as the Bhutanese would state knowingly. Yet the spirit of standing in a rice field in the Himalayas 7,500 miles from home on a sunny Thursday afternoon grabbed me.

They allow me to slot into their assembly line. I accept handful after handful of cut stalks from one man and hand them over to the face-masked man operating a whirling drum knocking the rice kernels off the heads of the stalks into a bin. These Bhutanese seem amused by my interest, probably shaking their heads later at the rich foreigner wanting to play farmer for a few minutes. Or maybe that is my cynicism kicking in. Everyone was smiling. In the moment. I wasn’t thinking of much, but I was happy, giddy is how I noted the fleeting experience in my journal.

Everywhere we went we were welcomed by the warm hospitality of local Bhutanese who opened their homes to us. Walking up a steep road into the hillside village of Dhur, Rinzin suddenly leans over a fence and begins speaking with a woman sitting on her deck. She is weaving and invites us in.

As her eleven-year-old daughter looks on, mom continues working on a plain seat cloth. Because it is for personal use and there is no elaborate design, she says it will be done in three days. Across the street, we pop into another yard and a small outbuilding in which a woman is boiling rice to make the powerful local spirit, ara. One of the things I most enjoy about traveling is the adventure of leaving the beaten path. The entire country of Bhutan is such a place.

I have long felt calm and comforted in Buddhist surroundings, and Buddhism flows throughout Bhutan’s built, biological, and natural systems. Most of the buildings in the country are variations on a theme because of mandated style, including window designs that mimic the appearance of the Buddha.

Houses, hotels, stores, and more are often painted with representations of the eight Buddhist auspicious symbols, scenes from Buddhist stories, and phalluses. One of the most common depictions together or in pairs are of a dragon, garuda, snow lion, and tiger. These are the four strongest creatures and offer protection to both the structure as well as those inside. They also spice up walks through the countryside and villages.

Animals hold special place in Bhutan. Cows and horses are granted free rein to graze along the roads and make cars go around them, but it is the dogs who rule in Bhutan. Some are pets; many are community animals. They stroll, lounge, and sleep during the day and then come to boisterous (and sleep-depriving) life at night.

They are well-fed and cared for by the locals (a far cry from the mangy, wild dogs we kept our distance from in the Yucatan earlier this year). This first-class treatment, according to Rinzin, is because dogs are the last reincarnation before humans and they are the creatures who guide humans to the correct path in the afterlife. It is in everyone’s best interests to look after their once and future guides.

The hotels we stayed at were mostly outside of the town centers and up in the foothills of the valleys. As we frequently bounced along the long, twisty drives to and from the main roads, two striking parts of Bhutanese life kept our attention.

First, there are peppers everywhere. Red is the most vibrant and common. The green ones turn paler in the sun. These are the homegrown chilis that the locals love so much, and they are laid out on corrugated metal roof tops, draped across windows, and hung from roof rafters to dry. They are colorful canvasses on the landscape.

Second, there is a profusion of penises (anatomically correct as well as creative) painted, mounted, and hung on houses. Rinzin made himself laugh when he regaled us with how fascinated tourists are with Bhutan’s “chilis and willies.”

The phalluses ward off evil spirits and drive away malicious gossip. They are also a symbol of fertility and good luck. For us prudish Americans, the puerile glee of our inner, immature selves regularly burst forth. There wasn’t a penis we passed without pointing, gushing, and not infrequently asking Sangay to stop the bus so we could take a picture.

Haa Valley

Prayer wheels are ubiquitous in Bhutan. Operated by hand, wind, and water, they manifest the “turning of the dharma wheel” and the reciting of the mantras inside and out. These prayer wheels help relieve living beings of the desire and suffering that weigh on them in this lifetime. Spinning a prayer wheel helps one earn merit and spread peace, kindness, and enlightenment throughout the world.

I was most attracted to the aesthetic and quiet dignity of standalone, water-powered prayer wheels, including the above line of six. Rivers and streams cascade down mountains at almost every switchback driving up and down the high passes separating the valleys, and they tumble down the foothills towards the chhu within each valley. Prayer wheels at these points send endless prayers out into the world as the flowing waters unceasingly pass through their gears. Their presence throughout the country raises a palpable curtain of peace and security for all.

Thimphu Valley

When I tell people I went to Bhutan, they almost invariably ask about the one thing everyone has heard, “Isn’t that the place that is supposed to be so happy?” Indeed, Gross National Happiness (GNH) is a governing philosophy of the Kingdom of Bhutan. Taking a page from its Buddhist heritage, the philosophy is a holistic call to achieve sustainable development by co-emphasizing economic progress and spiritual improvement in personal and societal wellbeing. Most global models focus solely on the former to the detriment of the latter.

While hiking along a ridge above the capital of Thimphu to the Druk Wangditse Lhakhang (Temple of the Peak of Conquest), we looked out over the lower valley and could see the GNH Centre building prominently in the distance. The GNH Centre is a state-encouraged, nonprofit organization whose mission is to promote the vision and philosophy of Gross National Happiness.

Bhutan is changing and growing since it began opening to the world in the late twentieth century, though all is not smooth. The kingdom is a culturally-conservative society that has struggled to get past its unsettled political history, including clashes and conflicts in modern memory between native Bhutanese and Nepali- and Tibetan-speaking immigrants.

Bhutan remains a largely agricultural and developing nation. The government is in the planning and early construction stages of creating a new, sustainable, hi-tech city in its southern plains to advance the country and give more opportunity for its citizens. This is important because the nation is shedding young (and not so young) people, particularly to Australia (30,000+ at present).

When our group was speaking with Rinzin during one, winding bus ride over a high pass between two valleys and extolling how wonderful our experience was and how much we adore the country, he agreed but also commented, in the quiet, distinguished manner that he has, that “many local Bhutanese would be happy to trade places with you.” Even in paradise, the corporeal world cannot be ignored.

The only traffic-controlled intersection in Bhutan, downtown Thimphu.

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