Res-Erection Part 1

Today is one of the holiest day's of the year. While it is Yom Kippur, I am referring to the last day Dasain a 15 day Nepali festival which celebrates the victory of the goddess Durga over the forces of evil. While the entire nation of Nepal shuts down, its citizenry are a bound. The streets of Pokhara are well trodden by Nepalese families, they are off to visit friends and extended family to "give tika" a blessing, for the upcoming year. The tika is the red mark you often see on the foreheads of Hindu's, who compose the majority of Nepal's population.

Earlier this morning I arrived at the home of Deep (short for Deependra) Pahari and his extended family, to give and receive tika. The Pahari's are my newly adopted Nepali family. The story starts a week and a half ago...

Asia had gotten to me and my enthusiasm for adventure was slowly replaced with misery. Between the challenges of India and the relentless commotion of Kathmandu, I was frazzled, road weary and in a serious need of a mental health break. The universe answered my calling in the form of a week in Bhutan.


Freed from the constant challenges of navigating the cities of sub-continental Asia and free from gravity, I again sailed through the air. As we flew past Mount Everest I thought, "Hey, it does look like the Paramount logo." I imagined stars flying in from the bottom left to form a semi-circle over the mountain. Then I took time to reflect and examine the cause of my misery. Blogosphere, I have to be honest, after 3 months of traveling the world, the romance and excitement subside and what you are left with is life. And life has not been easy as of late.

I sat at 35,000 feet contemplating, "I don't know if I can do this anymore. I think it may be time to leave and head for Thailand. What was it about Mozambique that made it so enjoyable? I want to go home, just for a day or two. I'd kill for a TGI Friday's Pecan Crusted Chicken Salad right now. I just want 40 minutes in MY car driving down the Garden State Parkway on the right side of the road and on the left side of the car. I am tired of everything."

The plane landed 30 minutes later and as I stepped out I immediately noticed, Bhutan was different. The airport was beautiful, the buildings shared a common architecture and were adorned with beautiful, intricate filigree.

I wish my house was half as nice as the bathroom at customs. I walked through the door where I was greeted by Kinley and Dshering my guide and my driver and we headed from the airport in Paro to Thimphu.

Bhutan is the last of the Himalayan Buddhist Kingdoms. Surviving over the past several hundred years in self imposed isolation, the culture remains intact and largely unchanged. It remains unspoiled and clean and emanates a primordial purity that you can feel, the experience is spiritual.

The citizens wear traditional tunics called Koe, and live by the same codes their ancestors have adhered to for centuries. The government is a monarchy which was recently augmented to include a democratically elected legislative branch and a third branch composed of the nations chief Buddhist monks. And, the king measures the success of Bhutan not by gross national product (GNP) but by gross national happiness (GNH) which is built on four pillars:

1) The promotion of equitable and sustainable socio-economic development
2) Preservation and promotion of Bhutan's cultural values
3) Conservation of the natural environment
4) Establishment of good governance

All of Bhutan's policies and laws are based on these precepts which results in interesting laws. For instance, the sale of tobacco is illegal in Bhutan. And in the Phobjika valley, winter home for the endangered Black Neck Crane, there is no electric wiring as it poses a hazard to the birds. Rather than stringing wire though the habitat, the King elected to provide the residents of Phobjika with solar panels. All of Bhutan's people, including Kinley and Dshering are calm and demure. They are happy, saintly with endless patience. I wouldn't think of upsetting them (if I could) or even uttering a dirty word in their presence.

As we drove on toward Thimphu we passed through the quiet desolation of the Himalayan foothills. We traversed bucolic green canyons, along side pristine crystal streams and under deep blue skies. The color blue you can only see at the highest of altitudes. Along our way we rode in silence as we crossed rivers and mountain passes where Buddhist prayer flags flapped in the wind and prayer wheels marked our way. You know like from the Golden Child when Eddie Murphy does the whole I-I-I-a-I-I-I-I want the knife...Pleeeeeeease thing.

Kinley explained that these are of Mahayana Buddhist liturgy and they function to wash away the sins and protect from evil those who pass their influence. This is why they are hung near rivers and mountains.

As the first day came to a close I was at peace, I had found Shangri-la. The next morning we drove on. A few hours into our silent voyage (I was stuck to the window like a Garfield doll watching the mountains go by) Kinley asked, "Can we put on radio?" I was in my new found calm and curious to hear Bhutanese music so I answered with an emphatic, "Yes! Please do!" As the radio squelched on, the tune became clear.

"Un-ch Un-un-ch Un-un-un-un-ch... Whatcha gonna do wit all dat junk, all dat junk inside yo trunk?
"I'm ah git git git git you drunk git you love drunk off my humps..."

Hold up! The Black Eyed Peas?!?! My jaw was on the floor . The following tracks included 50 Cent, The Pussycat Dolls and P. Diddy. I wondered did these guys, these saints, understood the lyrics they were singing (or trying to) "You can find me at the club bottle full of bub, look mommy I got the X if you into takin drugs, I'm into havin sex I ain't into making love..." Buddha is rolling in his Nirvana! It's crazy to see what parts of American culture get woven into that of Bhutan. I laughed out loud, what a curious juxtaposition.

Folks the laughs didn't stop here. As we pulled up to our first stop of the day, a traditional Bhutanese home, Kinley pointed up at the door frame. "Penis" he said. Sure enough there was a 2-foot carved wooden schlong hanging above the door.

Without skipping a beat I said, "Yeah, but why is it so small?"

Kinley looked at me, confused with his head cocked to the side, the way your dog looks at you while he ponders the secrets of the universe. And then the light bulb went on over his head and he laughed.
He then said, "Penis keep away evil spirits."
To which I replied, "Maybe in Bhutan, in my experience I've noticed the polar opposite." Kinley resumed his cocked head confused expression.

Over the next 3 days we drove along roads connecting temples, monasteries and dzongs and we passed countless homes each adorned with big paintings of penises.

I was giggling like Bevis the whole way.

At the end of my week in Bhutan, I returned to Kathmandu feeling refreshed with a renewed enthusiasm. Along with my travels, the reading of Gandhi and Ayn Rand opened my eyes to the fact that India and Nepal operate in their own reality, not mine. My misery was a product of me not accepting this and trying to mold their realities into my constructs (whoa pretty deep) I decided to surrender, to stop fighting Nepal and let it happen. I've been elated since.

"Hey! What the hell man? What about your adopted Nepali family?"


To be continued...