Bhutan – Do I think Bhutanese are happy?

April 2006 By WM Chan

When I told people I just returned from a trip to Bhutan , I got diverse response. Some asked me where it was, one actually thought it was somewhere in the middle east. Others, however, immediately showed their envy, telling me this is one of the places they've always wanted to go, but have not yet done so for a variety of reasons.

I went on a bird watching tour which is one of the most common tourist activities in this country. There are some 600+ species in this country and we managed to see or hear 300+, a very high achievement indeed considering the mere 2 weeks we spent there as compared with a usual program of 3 weeks. And most of these targets are what we call birds of the forests which are more difficult to spot than the wading birds which would stand exposed in the water. Spotting them from among the branches and leaves is challenging but simply listening to them at daybreak is already enjoyment, so is the experience of walking and breathing in the crisp clear air along the roads, literally cut out from the forests.

When the king first mentioned his vision for his people some 34 years ago: not gross domestic product but gross national happiness( http://www.grossinternationalhappiness.org/gnh.html), he probably did not realize the impact those words would make in the 21Century. Indeed it is very seldom nowadays that the words of a king would be referred to repeatedly and in such unlikely places as the editorial of a medical journal, as well as becoming a focus for reflections (http://www.alternet.org/envirohealth/21083/)

The fact is: all those concerned about wellness and health, have in the past few decade, been discussing the effects of social class, poverty and inequality on health, life expectancy and also disease patterns. Psychosocial health and quality of life issues have regained their position in the agenda for economic policy and development.

Do I think Bhutanese are happy? I can only speak for what I see, hear and experience. The people serving us are the people we saw the most, though definitely not a representative sample. There were 8 of us in the group and we had 9 people to serve us, including 2 drivers (one for our bus, and one for the truck that carried our supplies, for we spent more days in camps than in hotels), 2 guides, at least 2-3 cooks, some coolies and a waiter at the table. They are a merry lot, apparently enjoying their work and actually singing quite often. We had pretty good food with variety, considering the limited resources they had and the simple utensils. Not as dramatic as the trekking trip I had in Nepal (when we actually had a cake with icing!) but impressive enough with French toast, popcorn, pancakes, stewed beef, and make-do lasagne(with eggplant and wholesome cheese)

The driver of the bus is a young lad at 23 years of age. When there are cows or dogs or even a cock on the road, he does not honk but slow down to let the beast pass, and in the early morning, our young guide sits quietly in his seat and silently recites prayers from his Bhutanese script. In the temple the 2 young men kneel and prostrate naturally. But though prayers abound in different forms outdoors (eg on flags or written on the rocks) there is none of the familiar sight in Tibet with pilgrims prostrating on the ground, which I have always considered to be a not only humiliating but also self-mutilating act. The same predominance for religion prevails. On the street we see now and then people with prayer wheels. On bridges there are strings of coloured prayer flags while on roads, especially dangerous corners there are long poles with long vertical prayer flag, complete with prints of prayers in Bhutanese, and at times, images of Buddhas too.

An activity we had plenty of fun with was learning each other's language. The young driver derived a great kick by learning "hui bean doe"(where are you going) and trying it out innocently on the girls. On the other hand, we started yelling “ma ma yashi” like the locals when a target bird dropped into the far distance.

We spent very little time in Thimphu, the capital and probably the only city of Bhutan , but I was in Paro, the town of the only airport for 2 days. There I saw ordinary folks strolling along the street, earnest parents (and grandparents) buying necessities of living or school supplies for the children, and women in the market with teeth rotten from chewing betel nuts. The usual diet is not dissimilar to other Himalayan countries with plenty of fresh fruits and vegetables, beans, and lots of spices too. The amount of cheese they consume probably accounts for the low incidence of kyphosis to be observed among the old ladies.

We came at a good time and in the castle-temple-monastery called dzong, we saw young couples and families in their Sunday best sitting patiently in the crowd with basketsful of food and thermos to watch the tsechu, a religious ceremony of the early summer which is quite interesting. The major attraction of the event was contributed by masked dancers who are probably all men but dressed in frocks adorned with a long piece of cloth with slings at the waist. Like other religious dances, the steps are not complicated. There is a rhythmic bending and twirling movement of the head, strangely not unlike that undertaken by Cantonese opera performers called sui fat (not a easy task because of the weight of the wooden mask) and a corresponding twirling of the body, when the frocks showed their best. We could then get a glimpse into what's underneath. Well, these are not Scots, and on their barefoot legs they wear colourful floral printed knee length trousers. Just wondered if they might be part of their pyjamas! Now and then there are high jumps as shows of individual ability. Unlike the Maasais of Africa who would do a straight hip and straight knee jump just up and down, they bend both, with no forward movement, and in equal silence and serenity.

One indicator of the frequency of tourists is the reaction of local people to photography. Here the response is pleasing. They usually find the act to be amusing but would however stand still to allow a perfect still. And they are not yet into that stage of asking for a copy of the picture---or money. The supply of instantaneous photos to our driver, nonetheless, was met with great enthusiasm.

We could tell where the influence of China has taken root. In the little street stores Chinese goods abound, from the silk for the robes to the ceramics on the table. I was told that the thermos from China had been invaluable in greatly reducing the fuel that an average family uses, a truly environmentally friendly device that Hong Kong people may have abandoned. The red words of blessing written on the bowls and mugs bring warm feelings of intimacy with this Druk Land . The yellow dragon, afterall, is equally revered by our ancestors.

The philosophy of the closed nation could have its roots in the appalling state of affairs in Nepal in the second half of the last century. I visited the lovely Himalayan country in the early 80s, when it was already well known as the Hippies' paradise. The fate of the Nepalese in the past decade is testimony to the correct move made by the Bhutan king not to allow western influence to come in too fast. But of

course the force of technology cannot be reversed and along with the smog from the south that clouds our view of the foothills near the Indian border, television has slowly intruded into the daily life of everyday people. While there is a national station, the many Indian musicals on cable TV with women in non- discreet costumes may be considered as a worse pollutant than the suspended respirable particles in the air.

Yes I do have lots of respect for this tiny nation where the national pledge is to have >60% of forest area and the actual performance is 68%. This may not be the place many people care to go particularly because of its high price policy for tourists, but this is certainly a place worth learning about..

Japan - July 2006

The main target of our trip was to climb the Mt Fuji, which is something all Japanese are supposed to do at least once in their lifetime. But every year there are only 2 months (July and August) when this can be attempted -- with no guarantee of achievement as storms can appear near the summit anytime to deter climbers from reaching the last few hundred metres. Hence the pictures we took (shown by means of the LCD monitors on the digital cameras of my friends) attracted envy from a tiny old lady innkeeper from a small town up north, who didn't make it during her only voyage there. We count ourselves lucky for there was just a little bit of rain, and the 6 degree C at 3700 m is not cold at all, even with the gust.

We started at 8:30 pm at the height of 2400 m. We chose the shortest, but not the most popular (which started from the famous lakes) of the 4 uphill trails. Along the trails there are tiny stores at regular intervals, offering not just food, but also lodging for those who decide not to venture further. Of course I completed the journey, but not in time to reach the summit to watch the sunrise at 4:30 am. At the height of some 3700 m, it is better to walk slowly to avoid altitude sickness --- and I'm already prone to headaches.

The circuit of the tiny crater takes about an hour to complete, and the view into the surrounding forest parks is quite nice. All the trails, though well trodden, are not easy to negotiate, particularly when going downhill. There is little soil to talk of, and the slippery pebbles kept getting into the shoes, requiring periodic removal. The other scourge was the sun, which was really strong at the height: we could tell from the faces of the uphill climbers we met along the way, which included a number of uniformed youngsters, presumably undertaking a summer training camp of some sort.

Overall we took about 5 hours to complete the downhill journey, reaching our home base at 1:00 am, more desperate for a relief in the toilet rather than quenching thirst or hunger. The driver of the group duly brought us back to ground level in the lakes area in no time while I rapidly lost awareness in deep slumber, only awakening to enjoy the evening meal. We found a nice “home-lodging” in a village, and had a splendid view of the Mt Fuji, with a lovely reflection in the lake next morning at 7 am.

This is the first time I travelled in Japan by driving on our own. As usual I served as the netvigator, and enjoyed thoroughly the GPS function, whereby in true Japanese style, there would be an animated Japanese lady appearing on the screen now and then, who would bow and in a sweet apologetic voice, provide advice which, for all intents and purposes, must be telling us that alas, we are in the wrong direction!