It’s Official: You Can Use Powdered Milk in Anything!

In Thimpu, they have bakeries, but lets just say, the delicious aroma of soy lattes and fresh whole grain loaves never invites you in.  Most of the time, white bread it is!  Or, the baked goods just sit on the shelf until they sell, and you never know what you may get.

Tonight marks the official night that I had had enough.  I wanted some fresh, steaming bread!  So, I took matters into my own hands, reminiscing back to my backpacking days and the days of making tortillas after elementary school.  The result was a scrumptious, and not so politically correct masterpiece, called: “GHETTO BREAD”.  The recipe is as follows.

Combine:

3-4 handfuls of flour (depending on your hand size of course)

2-3 pinches of salt

2 small Coffeemate-To-Go packets

Add:

1 splash of oil (whatever the cheap stuff they sell here is)

Water until you make a dough-like consistency

Next Steps:

1) Mush it up

2) Flatten it out to pancake width (maybe on the thicker side)

3) Butter a pan

4) Turn off your smoke detector if you have one (We don’t)

5) Throw it in the pan

6) Flip until golden brown on both sides

7) Add butter if you want

8) BAM!  GHETTO BREAD!

I have to admit, part of me pretended to be a latchkey kid in my parents kitchen as I threw whatever I could find into the bowl and thought to myself, “Someone out there may frown upon this if they walk in right now.”  GUILTY!  But I licked my fingers to taste the dough, added a bit more salt, and thought, “Hey, what the hell.” 

Now I can’t wait to go to the store tomorrow and buy some whole grain flour… Maybe even some cornmeal… Imagine the possibilities!

Yes, No, Maybe So

When I first arrived in Bhutan, one thing I found particularly hard to get use to was the way they said “yes”.  Instead of nodding up and down, the Bhutanese nod their heads from side to side, the way that an American may say, “Eh, not now,” or, “Maybe, we’ll see”.

I would order a tea and see, “Whatever, if you insist”.  I would ask if they have eggs and see “Fine, I guess I’ll check.”  I would even try to do the sideways head nod myself, and the unnaturalness of it would make my brain rattle.

The other day, as I was trying to order an extra side of hot sauce at the restaurant because my stomach can officially handle the amount of chili I crave,  the waitress double-checked that she had understood correctly.  That was when I realized shortly after, I had become a subconscious, sideways head-nodder.  I wondered how long I had been doing it for, then I chowed down on my omelet.

When I get back to the states, don’t assume Bhutan has turned me into some nonchalant person who only responds with “I don’t care” or “Eh, whatever”.  In reality, it may be a “yes indeed”, or “sounds good to me”.

Instances like this remind me to capture the hilarity of my surroundings and share them with others, sooner rather than later, before the interesting becomes natural and unnoticed.

You Know You Are in Bhutan When: Part 2

• You find out the only pharmacy in Thimpu carries one size Band-Aid, so you don't have high hopes that they will have Benadryl for your full body rash. Happy scratching!
•  The school you work at is also the permanent residence of stray, adorable puppies.
• Your student runs into your classroom to proudly show you the rat he caught in a waste basket
• You are crouched over with your mini, twig-broom and dustpan sweeping up bugs off your living room floor, 40% of which are still alive and living in the wood of your wooden house.  Also a treat finding bug eggs next to the head of your bed.
• You check out a man in a dress (aka gho).
• You are eating traditional, local cereal.  You bite down on a rock, spit it out, and continue eating.
• You can look at the license plate of a car, and know who it belongs to; diplomat,  police officer, of even the King (his plate says BHUTAN).
• You can go to jail if you are smoking cigarettes that have entered the country illegally.
• You are doing a traditional Nepali dance in a kira.
• Holding your ears and doing frog jumps for extended periods of time does not count as corporal punishment.
• You have invented more hot water drinks than are found on a Starbucks menu, because hot water is clean water
• Instead of saying "slug bug" and punching the person next to you, you are saying "chillip in a kira"
•  You hear small voices yelling “Hello” from 50 yards away, and the children at the park call you “Aunt”.
• The kamikaze pigeons begin flying their crazy circles in the Himalayan winds.
• Teaching the game Red Light, Green Light is potentially a “splinter skill” that leads to nothing, because some kids may never see a stoplight.
• You are looking down at the city at night and you can only hear dogs and running water.  Not a car in sight.
• The sun sets behind the mountain range transitioning the city from light to dark in moments.  You sleep, then wake up to silence and warm sunshine... perfect.

Fashion Police

Bhutan is in an interesting place in terms of development, technology, cultural preservation, and growth.  The country places a high value on maintaining culture, however, all the students learn English because the king believes the country must move forward from it’s days of seclusion, becoming part of a greater global community.  There is much evidence of this, given the country has recently developed a democracy, introduced the Internet and TV, and is putting a large emphasis on education reform.

Personally, I secretly delight in the awkward clashing of cultures when it comes to things such as national dress.  As I sat and ate lunch today, I watched a teenage boy practice his “popping” dance as two smaller boys in “ghos” admired his moves.  Better yet are the young people who wear Kiras by day and crop tops by night.  Nightclubs are full of young people wearing outfits that look like the were shipped in from Hot Topic.  Monks can be seen spinning the same prayer wheels in the main square, as young kids in skinny jeans and Crocs.

However the most hilarious fashion trend I have seen thus far, began in the H1N1 days.  My coworker informed me that, while the surgical masks were once used to serve a purpose, they have become a new fashion statement, as evidenced by the fact that they come in different colors.  AWESOME!

I can envision you hoping my next blog post has nothing to do with a “chillip in a mask.”  Don’t worry, I’m usually never up to date with the latest fashion trends anyway.

Learning Lessons the Hard Way: Dogs and Chillips, The Other White Meat

When I go running I am careful to walk when I approach a dog.  When I come home in the evenings, I am careful to avoid the pathway 20 yards from my house where the neighborhood pack hangs out.  This afternoon, I let my guard down for one second.  Idiot!

The sun was setting as I left for my run.  I threw on my most non-sexy, long, beige shorts in an attempt to be appropriate and not offend anyone.  Ew.  My ipod was on, and I didn’t notice the pack of dogs to my right.  I heard barking and saw the alpha male of the pack 25 feet away, running full speed at me, barking, and growling.

I remembered what a friend told me to do.  I looked around for a rock.  None.  When I  remembered to reach for a pretend one, the dog was already too close, and I was afraid to bend over.  So what did my dumb ass do: ran more.

I think it may have been a blessing in disguise that I ate shit on a rock.  I was afraid that any second I would feel a bite, but all I heard was growling, and I realized the motherfucker was standing five feet away snarling as if I was too pitiful to eat.  Cars stopped in the road and a man had opened his door, about to get out to help me.  I walked away slowly.  More cautious and humbled.

My legs are rallied, and I just chomped on a bit of leftover sand, but no bites and no rabies shots.

The second lesson I learned today was that, the only thing more entertaining to watch than a chillip running, is a chillip in beat ass, beige shorts, running with bloody knees.  F my life.

It's Harder to Covertly Pick a Wedgie in a Kira

I pretty much live for moments when I have to hold my breath to keep from laughing, and instead bust out a “teacher smile”, trying to act appropriate.  Yesterday I had one of those moments.  My students were writing speeches to recite for the King’s Birthday Celebration.  As a writing teacher, I try to be very encouraging of my students’ creative sparks.  Yesterday, as I was reading one of the student’s speeches, I decided to run it by a veteran teacher to see if it was standard.  It looked something like this:

“I am very excited to be celebrating the King’s birthday.  I saw him at the swimming pool and on the basketball court.  He has a nice body and I like how he plays.  He came to our school and meditated with us.  I want him to come again.”

My mind flashed to the poster I had painted and hung in my classroom, which reads, "Honesty Is The Best Policy."  So... the king has a nice bod, in case you were wondering.

In celebration of His Majesty, I wore my new kira.  It is a floor length, wrap-around skirt and a jacket-like top.  I have been informed that the small spot on your neck, where the collarbones come together to create a small dimple, is sorta sexy, along with maybe even a little ankle now and then.

The new look brought me back to Easter morning as a kid, reaching up under my itchy dress to adjust tights that kept falling down to my knees.  I squirmed, readjusted, and may have cursed under my breath once or twice as I walked to school to celebrate His Majesty’s Birthday.

My kira was on, but I had forgotten to buy pins to close it over my tank top!  I held the top closed hoping someone would have a pin to loan me. I arrived to school disheveled, but with a smile, hoping it would hide the hot mess underneath.

There is a couple that works at my school, who have a two-month-old baby.  They speak very little, but their soft demeanor is gentle and welcoming.  They are the type of people who would possibly go unnoticed in the states, but I find their presence nice to be around.  They have been welcoming in their own way, such as when the mother and I shared a quiet teatime in the sun, while she nursed her baby.

Today, the father looked at me in my scoogi wobin attire, and told me in the most sincere tone that I was looking "very beautiful in my new kira".  I had no choice but to say "kaadinchey la" and think to myself, “haven’t figured it out yet, but at least I tried.”  Moments later, his wife walked in with one of the sixth grade students and the two of them made me presentable.

In the sea of kiras and ghos that walked the streets to celebrate His Majesty’s Birth Anniversary, I felt almost like part of the crew until a young passerby whispered to a friend, "chillip in a kira”.

Shark Attacks in Bhutan

One of my students told me this joke today.  “With marriage there are 3 rings.  The engagement ring, the wedding ring, and the… what’s next?”  I had no clue.  “The suffering”.  Just another reason I love Bhutan!

The idea of marriage and relationships here is interesting, fabulous, and just downright hilarious.  One minute you hear stories of marriages that involve simply moving into someone’s house.  Greatest country ever, right?

I thought so too, until I gave my number to a friend, who proceeded to call me 3 times a day for the next week.  Or better yet, when a Bhutanese guy nonchalantly asked me to be his girlfriend after knowing me for a week.  Looking back, I realize I may have been a little rude upon saying, “Ha.  That’s not how we are in America.”  At least I didn’t say what I was really thinking, “This is my nightmare, this is my nightmare!”

This is absolutely not a post tooting my own “chillip” horn, but merely a post to explain the culture shock (and horror) I have experienced.  I explained to my roommate that I feel culturally ignorant while complaining about it.  However, for the time being, I prefer cultural ignorance regarding relationships, to a “stage five clinger”.

At this point, I just feel happy to live in Thimpu and not the east, where the men partake in “night hunting”, or crawling through a women’s window at night to establish a courtship.  Yikes!