Excursions

Sunday 29^th March

The time is absolutely flying by; it is more than 2 months since I left Hobart and 7 weeks since I arrived in Kheni.  Apart from my trip to TrashiYangtse with the principal, during the last 7 weeks, I have had 3 excursions outside the village – to Duksum to collect my ATM card and buy vegetables (pure luxury), to Tashigang with my friend and colleague Madam Zangmo to buy vegetables, “luxury items” (butter, honey, nivea cream..) not available in the village shops and a hike to Omba with some students.

I travel to Duksum with my colleague Kinley Wangchuk who needs to refill some gas cylinders and collect new prayer flags for the school Rimdu the following day.  It seems that often a trip by a staff member to Duksum is maximized; on payday in March (I am glad to have been paid, although still have not received my February pay despite follow up of this a month ago); Principal Sir (the formal mode of address to him) asks staff if they would like any banking or shopping  - and takes cheques to cash and shopping lists for many staff members.

I am impressed to receive a text message from the bank when my pay is deposited and when the cheque is cashed.  With advice of the remaining balance.  A rather neat system.

The visit to the bank to collect my ATM card takes quite some time, there are formalities, forms and polite conversation to be given time to, quite different from any similar process in Australia.  The bank manager at Duksum is less prescriptive than was the bank manager at TrashiYangtse about how I must use my card and take care of my PIN, assuming that I do have some prior experience of this!

While in Duksum I visit the post office and am pleased to find the parcel from Federal Politician Andrew Wilkie, a package I much enjoyed opening later that evening with its delights of blackboard dusters (yay, real blackboard dusters – now placed in the class 7 classrooms), coloured chalk – one packet of which is given to my colleague for driving me, notepads, coloured pencils and string.  All inspired and very useful items.

The package also contained scissors – 2 pairs of which are given to the Science Lab coordinator – also the Barber club coordinator, partly as a guilty apology for broken thermometers but also because he had told me that the science lab and barber club had  no scissors.  Barber Club, which happens during club time on Wednesday afternoons, is the means by which the boys’ hair is cut for all students.  Class teachers are requested on a weekly basis to advise which boys require haircuts and these boys are then required to present themselves.  My first assessment that all were fine, was corrected by my class captain, when I consulted him, and a list of 4 names were submitted.

A quick visit to the seller of fresh vegetables provides peas, beans, eggplant, red onion, potato, cabbage and tomato, all of which will supplement beautifully my current limited range which includes radish (plentifully provided by my landlady), green papaya and spring onions – both gifts from neighbours.  The local shops sometimes have potatoes and red onion, usually have chilli, and on one occasion had green beans and I did see some very sad looking cabbage.  This range of vegetable will provide a range of choice in my cooking – which for the previous several days has been limited to rice, dhal and what I have christened “white curry” – made from onion, radish, green papaya and cabbage.  Flavoured with garlic, ginger, chilli, cumin, turmeric, ground coriander root and black pepper.  The Bhutanese of course list chilli as a main ingredient, not a flavouring.  It is a surprise to many that I combine my vegetables to make a mixed vegetable curry.

The postmaster comes out again for a chat and asks if I would like to see some kira in the Tailor Shop.  I check with my colleague that we have time, and then wait as the lady goes to her home to fetch the hand woven kira.  There is the fabulous detailed kushutara – the style that so impressed me when I visited Khoma when I was here as a tourist;  fortunately this is in yellows which are definitely not my colour and there is no way that I can justify the price for a “best” kira that I will wear only a few times.  There is quite a nice red one that I suspect is made from the fiber from silkworm that lives on the castor tree but it is 4500 Nu and probably a bit much, compared to the similar one I brought in Thimpu for 1800Nu.  Plus I had not received any pay at that point in time, so was not going to spend that sort of money.  I ask about having wonju and taego made but am told that they are too busy  to take more orders, as Gom Kora (the local festival) is approaching and they have many orders.  I buy a length of fabric for my living room window, none too clean and when I wash it discover that the pattern dye runs!

A visit to Trashigang with Zangmo was an unexpected invitation which came last Sunday as I was finishing breakfast.  I needed to double check on timeframes, as I had arranged with Tim, BCF teacher from nearby Tshencarla,  for him to come for dinner.  Once it was established that we would be back in time, I quickly finished my breakfast and Sunday morning chores (including washing, to find there was no space to hang my doona cover on the washing lines and headed off to the appointed meeting place at the appointed time, with my shopping list, the Kira for which I wanted to match wonju and taego and my laptop so I could do a little downloading and bill paying when I had access to 3G in Tashigang.  There is no problem in tethering my laptop to my phone when I have 3G access.

The first stop in Trashigang is at a shop that sells the remote control car that Zangmo’s son wants – a purchase that necessitated a loan from me (requested in advance) and which was paid back promptly on payday.  Looking for wonju and taego are less successful, there is a power failure and the only shop that has such items ready made does not seem interested in trying to show us anything without light. 

Once vegetables have been purchased, we repair to the bakery for coffee and cake, I do not see a coffee machine so inquire as to whether it is instant, and am told no, the water needs to be heated.  Still uncertain as to the nature of the coffee, I wait, and am duly served a cup of Nescafe.  Zangmo and her brother, who has come to drive us, decide they need more than cake and have ordered rice and pork and dhal.  I decline to join them – the pork is primarily boiled rind and fat, but at Zangmo’s insistance, order an omlette and share a little of their dhal with some rice.  She is concerned, along

Rhododendrons lowering at altitude

with most of my new friends, that I do not eat enough.  I must admit to having dropped a dress size in the last 2 months.  I am eating as much variety of vegetable as I can lay my hands on but most of that which makes up my calories at home is not easily available – dairy, meat (the local method of meat preparation does not inspire:  apart from the pork, already mentioned, the dried fish is cooked without being fully rehydrated, and is full of bones, the dried beef is similarly served without being significantly rehydrated and the chicken is prepared in traditional Asian style, being chopped up bones and all and there is rarely a mouthful that can be easily eaten without extracting from one’s mouth assorted pieces that are not digestible.

Ready bright and early for the trek - Tiny Karma who would
be my knight in shining armour, Ugyen in pink, Sangay in
green and my colleague Choki in blue.

The hike to Omba was an absolute delight, although quite physically challenging.  Omba is a village on the other side of the smaller river, and much higher, although my camera was refusing to give me altitude, although it eventually gave me latitude and longitude.

The invitation had come earlier in the week from one of my class 7 students, Sangay, who told me that another student, Ugyen, also wanted to come – uncertain as to exactly which student this was, I said yes, providing I was not going to Trashigang – a vague invitation had been previously issued.  I confirmed on Friday and advised the principal, as I am required to do.

Ugyen on the bridge over the river

There was some complicated discussion with the girls about attire – I was first advised I could wear trousers, then was told kira, as it was a sacred place.  I decided that  hiking in Kira was not an option and I was prepared to do a Lady Jane Franklin  and hike in trousers and have my kira etc in my backpack to put on over my hiking clothes when needed.  There was also a complicated discussion about footwear, which I finally interpreted as advice not to wear high heels.  Sweet of them, but in my case unnecessary, I had every intention of wearing hiking boots.  Though I guess they had never seen me in anything but my dress shoes or boots, both of which have relatively low broad heels.

 

Another young hiker - dressed as every hiker
should be dressed!

The girls were to collect me from my house at 7:30am, (BFT – Bhutan Flexible Time) and we went via another house to collect some more students and the new young Bhutanese teacher, Choki and her sister.  I carried a backpack with raincoat, thermal fleece, first aid kit, water, hard boiled eggs, biscuits and attempts at chocolate cakes baked in the rice cooker the previous day.  What they lacked in light and fluffy was made up for by calorie content.  Chocki and her sister were carrying a handbag between them and I asked about drinking water and they said they would get on the way.  We stopped at a village shop and they purchased large quantities of processed snack foods and the ubiquitous and disgusting chewing gum to share with the children.

The students were assortedly clad in trousers or kira and their footwear was plastic slip-on sandals “slippers” – no backs.

Time for morning tea

As we progressed along the dry and dusty paths, becoming steep after we crossed the river, it became increasingly evident that while the students navigated the paths with the confidence and capability of mountain goats, my 2 adult companions were painfully unfit, and, as it transpired, had not eaten breakfast before we departed.  This resulted in exhaustion, the need for frequent stops, during which I insisted that they eat my biscuits, and petulant demands that we eat lunch which was provided by the students at around 10:30am, well before we reached our destination – to which my response was sharing of the chocolate cakes and the suggestion that next time they went hiking, breakfast would be in order.

Stunning valleys

The hike took us through a range of terrain and ecosystems, including some beautiful deciduous forest, which was just starting to show its new buds and which had littered the pathway with its orange-brown fallen leaves.  At higher altitudes, some red rhododendron were providing wonderful splashes of colour.

The village of Omba is delightfully scenic; remote – it has neither a school nor a BHU (basic health unit) although there is a building where the BHU was once housed.  The students tell me that there is a problem finding health staff prepared to live in such a remote location.

On the walk it seems that Sangay is shy, uncertain of her English, but her older friend, my class 8 student Ugyen, is much more confident and intends to use the opportunity to practice her English and share her dreams and ambitions to become a famous poet.  I have already seen some of her writing and believe that she has some talent that could be encouraged, she is one of my literary club girls. 

Not perfectly clear, but its amazing country

The other students are younger – siblings and friends of the two girls and the younger brother Karma, a tiny slip of a boy, turns out to be my knight in shining armour when he fearlessly chases away the cows who are chasing us down a steep, dry pathway and drives away the ox with horns that could potentially be injurious, which was tethered in a way that gave it full access to our path.  He also held my had as I navigated ridiculously steep and narrow steps as we approached the tiny lakhang, prayer wheels and other sacred places.  I did wonder what help this might be should I actually fall – I would take both of us, but the thought was lovely.

It's a long way back down to Kheni...

The student concern for my safety was evident, the echo of “be carful madam” as I balanced along precarious paths across near vertical slopes, navigated steep and dust-dry slippery tracks up the same slopes, and attempted to squeeze myself through improbably small sacred spaces in order to earn merit.  Strangely enough, being careful was high on my priority list.

On the approach to Omba

Omba Village

One of the most amusing of the improbably tight spaces was a rock chimney, for which my torch would have been most useful had it decided to work.  There was a traditional wooden ladder (ie, a log with miniscule notches cut for footsteps) propped up, then about 2/3 of the way up, a second ladder – not actually fixed to anything so getting from the first to the second was always going to be a challenge.  This was all propped against not only rock but a dust-dry dirt area, so any movement above resulted in a small avalanche to fill the eyes, ears, nostrils, throat and anything else you could think of.  My colleague was having problems but the student behind me suggested I would have few problems, as I was not fat like her.  I waited until she had finally wiggled her way out, accompanied by several screams and screeches, before trying to continue my way.  Small Sangay, not much larger than her brother Karma, kept insisting “give me your hand, Madam”;  given her weight, even if she is very strong, and the traction provided by her plastic “slippers”  I preferred to rely on as many bodily point of contact between myself and the rock as possible and after requesting that they move so that the light could actually come through the small space above, I wedged a rear end, a couple of elbows and managed to get my foot onto a foothold somewhere in the region  of my left ear.  Or at least that is what it felt like.

The sacred places still some distance from Omba

One of our destinations on the round of sacred sites was the small lhakhang (monastery) perched on the cliff (as they mostly are ) occupied by what appeared to be a mad monk.  We duly made offerings, I had brought tea and we had purchased incense and the solidified oils for making the butter lamps before leaving Kheni.  It appeared that cash offerings were also expected and I explained that I had brought a large packet of tea instead.  Worth more than the small change offering that I would have otherwise made.  We prayed and prostrated appropriately and I left it to my colleague to negotiate with the monk who wanted us to

Guru Rinpoche looking over the valley with little
Karma performing his devotions

donate the money to buy a brass candlestick – seems he wanted a donation that would have brought about 20 of them! 

By now it was around 2:30pm and I was starting to get anxious;  it had taken us 4 hours to ascend, with the fitness levels of my colleague, and I suspected that the descent may take almost as long.  Dark is 6pm.  We finally left the mad monk and the students informed me that he wants to come back to Australia with me when I go. 

Then we had more sacred spaces, places etc and while I decided that I did not have the flexibility or inclination to persevere with the one that required me to wriggle on my front, face first down round and up, I navigated most of the rest before the students finally indicated we had earned sufficient merit to return.  Could have done without cramp in my thighs on the way down. 

Declining the offer of tea with various families, I finally got back to my little house just before 6pm and while I could have killed for a hot bath and takeaway pizza, my cold shower did wash off the dust and freshen me up, and the fridge yielded sustenance that did not take too much preparation.  It took 3 attempts at washing my clothes to remove all the dust from t-shirt, trousers and socks.