It
was noted by my Mother recently that my blog had notched up 10 000
views, and should I perhaps celebrate in some way? The thing to do
would be to identify that 10 000th hit and ship out a gho
or a kira to the lucky loyal reader, but on the one hand, it's
impossible to find that information, and on the other, well, it's all
a bit silly really.
But
this is worth a small celebration. Why? Because it's called 'The
Bhutanical Adventures of...', and this year has been just about the
grandest adventure of my life so far. Some people back home thought I
was mad to even consider it, and they weren't afraid to tell me so.
My previous boss who I respect and have much affection for didn't
speak to me for days. I guess he felt a little let down by my jumping
ship. He worked his way back into dialogue with laconic reminders
that I'd be eating with one hand and wiping my backside with the
other. Well, he was right, and I'm sure I sometimes forget which hand
is which.
My
Mother thought I was a bit bonkers too. I'd finally carved myself a
niche out of something that vaguely resembled comfort and security –
good job, a car, almost a house, healthy hearty hobbies, good
friends... “Why now?” Reasonable question, not easy to answer,
but I could steal Jonas Jonassan's words for a simple and honest
reply... “I think that if you've once asked yourself: 'Should
I...' then the answer should be: 'Yes!' Otherwise, how would you ever
know if you shouldn't?” Well said. My explanation was somewhat more
long-winded and took place in The Full Moon in Bristol over a few
pints of good ale (oh for a good ale). Ten minutes later, I think she
understood. 3 weeks in Bhutan and I'm pretty sure it all made sense.
Perhaps.
By
my tone, it's perfectly obvious that I'm thinking now about an
ending. I've not renewed my contract at Pakshikha MSS. I could easily
have done so. I could easily have stayed here indefinitely, which is
perhaps why I'm not staying here another year. Whenever a whiff of
permanence arises in circumstances, it's good to have a quiet word
with oneself. I'm not a Buddhist, but they are right on the
moneybutton with their take on entropy – nothing lasts forever...
life, love, pain, hunger, even architecture and place. You obviously
never step into the same river twice, everything certainly changes,
clinging is suffering and decay, but man oh man, moving on can be a
bit brutal too. With only one life (as far as I am aware off), it
seems that as long as the next thing is a different thing, then
nothing is lost.
But
I have made family here, and it's going to be really hard to leave
the kids downstairs, with their constant 'what is this?', 'Mr
Davidsir!', 'Nga-gi' and their general all-round cuteness and
affection. The same goes for their wonderful mother Am-Kingha and
their fun-time-frankie father, ST. I struggled with the social life
for a while here – a lot of drinking goes on - but now I have a
good set of mates around me and I'll miss them. The school kids are
pretty much all wonderful – there's hardly a bad egg among them,
and its great fun teaching them now that they've opened up a bit more
and don't just sit in silence staring at me. As a teacher, you always
leave a cohort behind. There's always an exam class at a vital stage
that you feel bad for leaving, but it's impossible to avoid it by any
other means than staying put. I'm not a staying-putter.
In
school, I've achieved more than I ever thought I would, primarily
because the school is still finding its feet in its first full year,
so more opportunities present themselves than is reasonable. The
first half of the year really was just too much, but now I know that
I can handle 33 periods a week, Head of Science, Mentor Teacher,
Timetabler, Results Coordinator, Literary in Charge and all the rest
of it without collapsing in a burnt out heap of cinders (although I
think that's what happened to me in the mid-term break).
In
the second half of the year my timetable dropped back to normal but I
had the rather unexpected opportunity to try living with chronic pain
out for size, something I've never had the chance to do before. I
wouldn't say it was fun, but I think it will be worth it afterwards
(still with me I'm afraid, like a crummy friend). Oh and I had a
boil! On my thigh. Now that was worth every wince and whine, just for
the sheer medievalness of it. I was astounded when they pulled out
the creamy nob to reveal a hole in my leg about the size of a
twenty-pence piece and as deep as a finger nail, rimmed by raw gummy
flesh. I laughed maniacally all the way through the procedure, much
to the amusement of the nurse who clearly thought I was unhinged. I'm
not a masochist, but boy did that make me laugh.
Where
was I? Endings. So every morning I look out my window and find it
hard to believe that I made this decision, that my choices led me to
such an outstandingly beautiful place and such a marvellous
experience. The prayer flags flutter in the foreground and behind
them the mountains just fall away into the valley and rise up again
to broccoli jungle peaks. The woods are always whirring with funny
noises. The air is sweet and crisp. The autumnal sky is clear and
full of stars, quite unlike the summer fug. My walk to school takes
me through the forest. My feet crunch on gravel as I liberally
scatter 'Kuzoozangpo la's to the villagers I pass on the way. At this
time of year, Pakshikha is simply stunning. It always will be at this
time of year, whether I'm here or not. Not as the case will be.
Of
course, Thimphu is just 4 hours away, and now I've got a decent
circle of friends there. I've finally started playing out - a few
weeks ago I got up on the stage in Mojo Park and after 2 songs the
house band joined me and we jammed for an hour or two. Definitely
going back there! If time permits, I've also arranged to take some
school kids into the studio to record a half hour live music show.
When I get decent internet I'll put the rough version of the
Pakshikha Anthem I wrote in a fit of silliness.
I
will keep plugging away at trying to find the right job for me here
next year, but despite encouraging noises from encouraging places,
nothing concrete has yet materialised. So, Thailand for Christmas and
possible Kerala in January to finish the two novels once and for all,
followed by some trekking, either in Nepal where some voluntary work
may be tagged on, or back in Bhutan if I can convince myself (and my
irksome body) to do the Snowman trek. And then... home? Back to Bhutan as a UN Volunteer with BCMD, As a lecturer in Royal Thimphu College. Or a dream job in the Royal Education Council? China? Africa? Kazakhstan?? As
long as its different. And one good aspect of
the 'same river twice' idea is that you just can't lose - even going home will be an adventure!
