It’s a thirty minute taxi
ride (costing about one dollar) from the capital, Thimphu, to our new house in
the village of Chamgang. The outskirts of Thimphu themselves are fairly
unlovely - a ramshackle network of construction sites and plumbing stores, open
drains littered with chip packets and lolly wrappers, our esteemed leader's
'least favourite part of Bhutan'. But once the road leaves the expressway
and starts climbing into forests of blue pine, the dramatic peaks, views of the
river below and narrow winding roads leave the feel of the city completely
behind.
 |
| The view from school |
The first thing you see when
you reach the village is Chamgang prison – Bhutan’s largest – and the feature
for which the village is unfortunately best known. As the road sweeps up a series
of switchbacks, you reach a clearing where the school and our house sits on a
rocky ridge looking out over the valley. The house itself has great views over
the mountains that make up the Western side of the Thimphu Valley including the
giant Sakyamuni Buddha statue – one of the largest in the world – that sits
elegant and serene on a ridge high above the suburbs of Thimphu. From our
house, the prison is out of sight and it’s a short walk to the edge of a forest
- juniper, rhododendron, spruce and pine and plenty of wild animals, including
the eponymous Yak – stretching up towards the alpine plains that dominate the
horizon behind the village. Last night, I watched the sun set over the
mountains and there was a sweet stillness in the air and beautiful majesty to the
mountains which reminded me of the time I spent living in a village in Nepal
and all the reasons I love the Himalayas.
 |
| The library and science labs, Thimphu valley in the background |
This morning we ventured into the forest and were surprised with how quiet and
flat (!) the road is and how untouched the environment. The trees have a
wonderful old world feel about them, in part due to the Bhutanese people’s respect
for nature and the villagers’ practice of taking sparingly from the forest for
firewood. We encountered several beautiful birds - pheasants, woodpeckers, cuckoos
and robins and then stumbled upon some very handsome yaks munching on the
undergrowth. Leopards, tigers, deer and Himalayan black bears also inhabit the
forest, though we have yet to wrestle with any them in this snow bound winter
season – although stories in the village of this happening do exist.
We've met the school principal and vice principal (aka 'VP') who are both down
to earth and hospitable - and VP has even taken several afternoons out of this
holidays to help us buy a bed and Bukhari (wood stove) for our house. We've had
lots of interesting discussions with him about Bhutan’s rapid development over
the last fifty years and the effects this has had on its society, culture and
education system.
 |
| VP addressing the school for HM birthday celebrartions |
 |
| Tshering Lopen, Sonam Lopen and Lucy Lec-Chu-Wa |
He strikes me as a very dedicated and heartfelt man - with a bit of ambition in
there as well. A while ago he became aware that due to its proximity to the
jail, the school suffered from an image problem - and students (some of whom
have moved to the village to be closer to their fathers who are in the prison)
were being teased at inter school events for being the kids of jail birds. So
he petitioned the ministry of education to have the school name changed from
Chamgang LSS to Yangchen Gatshel LSS a name given to the school by a high lama
which roughly translates as 'blessed land of the Goddess of Wisdom' - a name
which surely arms its students with plenty of street cred on the football
field.
 |
| What's a King's birthday without a few cultural items? |
Despite my most ardent
romantic whims, our house is not a beautiful Bhutanese farmhouse built of
rammed earth and native hardwood (the villagers have a special song they sing
when ramming the earth – just to imbue each brick with good vibrations). We
have no titulary dieties or enormous hairy penises painted on our exterior
walls (worst luck). Instead we are
living in a small concrete bungalow with two bedrooms and a kitchen, bathroom
and toilet. Its walls have all the thermal properties of a sheet of glass and
the carpenter had obviously drunk a few too many bowls of homebrewed arra when making the doors (probably
during a long and boozy session with his mate the painter who seems to have
done most of the painting blindfolded and using a mop).
 |
| Casa de Lurve...our digs.. |
But it’s a hell of a lot
nicer than many places in Bhutan and despite my shameless first world
whingeings we’re very lucky and have been making ourselves very comfortable.
Our neighbours helped us dismantle and reassemble our malfunctioning bukhari,
patching all the holes in the flue with mud so that we don’t die of smoke
inhalation or drown in a sea of molten pine resin. Their down-to-earth
generosity and willingness to help was amazing. I’ve also been banging nails
into walls and doors all over the place to make wall hangings and storage
spaces and am actually feel pretty competent as resident handyman compared the
initial standards of construction – something that would NEVER happen back
home. Lula has been making the most of Bhutan’s fantastic fabrics in getting
curtains and doona covers made to order and last night a bunch of class five
boys carried over two science benches for us to use in our kitchen which had
previously had no furniture or benches to speak of. Score!
 |
| Firing up the Bukhari! |
 |
| The neighbours |
Our neighbours are friendly,
loud and completely unabashed. The first one I met was the nextdoor neighbour’s
two year old daughter who when I first arrived was standing outside her wooden
house, pants around her knees and bum in the air, grinning like a maniac with
her broken piano tooth smile, holding a twelve-inch machete in both hands and
happily whacking a notch in her parent’s front porch. It was a golden village
moment and made me glad to be here. So in conclusion, it’s a pleasure to go to bed to the sounds of our neighbours
chatting, arguing, watching WWF wrestling or laughing uproariously about
something and to feel like we’re part of the (sometimes dysfunctional but always unfailingly inspiring) village.
 |
| Resident adorable puppy - and food disposal unit |
 |
| Next door neighbour and landlady's house (replete with giant phallus) |
-->
