Ceiling of the World

Ode to the Penis

Oh Great Penis,

Thunderbolt of Wisdom

Slayer of evil spirits

Defiler of virgins

Giver of good fortune

Merriment of maidens

Envy of the impotent

Phobia of nuns

Pastime of monks

Devious snake

Gallant gentleman

We salute you in all your veined glory. Flaccid or hard, long or short, skinny or chubby, we recognize your power to thrill and indulge. You are a throbbing example of how to let go of the past and live in the present. Your uncomely beauty is a vital lesson in self-love. You are strong yet sensitive, rigid yet flexible, your eagerness to please does not trump your pointed authority in the world. 

Oh Great Penis, soldier against demons, protector of families,   we welcome you into our beds and hearts. 

Punakha

We walk in the cold dark looking for a cab but the streets are empty. The capital is still asleep. We negotiate a fare at the taxi stand and as we drive out of Thimphu the darkness is just beginning to dissipate. Dogs stretch on the side of the road and the first signs of life stir in homes on the outskirts of the city. On the crest of Dochu La pass the sky cracks open revealing a robin's egg blue. The clouds simply can't resist opening to it. The sun yawns a bright orange through the mist, silhouetting the chortens as we round to the left. Whipped cream steam rises between the ridges.

Down we wind into the high alpine jungle to the song of tinkling voices and Bhutanese wind instruments. Ferns drape themselves over precipices and moss clings tenderly to the rocks. The fogs twists and curls itself amongst the trees, enchanting the eyes who relay a message of disbelief to the brain. Some of the leaves celebrate the change of season with jubilant displays or yellows and reds. This is my first fall in the jungle.
 

Charamellas do Bhutan

It is no easy journey to Bhutan. When I arrived I was out of breathe and jet lagged for a week. Globetrotters Nancy and Bob, however, were champs and hardly seemed not to notice they were suddenly 8,000 ft above sea level and half a day ahead of their bodies. They arrived cheery and bearing gifts of jerky, coffee, protein powder, crafting supplies, hand knitted scarves and cuddle duds. 

We spent the first week exploring the Thimphu craft markets, paper factory, textile museum, observing the weavers, and hiking to several of the nearby monasteries. 

Settled In

I've come to one of the few coffee shops in town in search of a decent wifi signal. Upon choosing a table outside I am immediately joined by a very small little girl dressed in patterned fleece leggings, jean jacket with sequined strawberries, fuzzy red boots and a high pony tail atop her head. (Of course I didn't bring my camera.) Her tiny teeth are rotting in her mouth and neither her Ama or her Auntie are anywhere to be found. Her brown hands are wrinkly and dry, like those of an old dwarf farm worker. I've managed to gather that her name is Nisha. We're playing a hilarious game of ducking under the table and squealing as we pop up. After she spilled my cappuccino I taught her to say "coffee is good." I tried to entertain her with markers and paper to draw on but she is much more enthusiastic about stirring my coffee, licking the spoon and trying to stick it back in my cup. She did finally managed to dunk the contaminated spoon with only a sip left. I drank it anyway and she tried the last few drops making a face that expressed serious doubt in my beverage tastes. Two ladies at the table next to us just ordered her a brownie (after I offered her a handful of cashews and she threw them at me) and with no further ado she ran away. Later, I spotted her running hand in hand through the parked cars with the parking attendant.

49 days- a Buddhist Funeral

They started mowing the lawn at 10 p.m. The Dasho is dead.

Our little Rabten family had lost their Apa (father). The funeral preparation began immediately. The King sent a truckload of army men to help construct the alter and set up the funeral tents. Family members worked alongside the camouflaged men until 3 a.m. We woke to a small tented village in the center of our tranquil compound. Aunts and cousins were rushing back and forth trying to organize breakfast for the troops, monks wandered around in crimson cloaks, hanging yellow and orange ribbons from the roof of the new alter, mounting rainbow checked flags and banners. Once the grounds were duly prepared and the alter finished, the body was brought in.

Thimphu - week two

Life here is relaxed. Very, very relaxed. No one is in a hurry. Ever. To do anything. This may frustrate some people, especially those who are here to get a job done. Or those who like to walk at  pace that will actually get them somewhere before the sun sets. Fortunately, I am quite adaptable.  Turns out I may be part Bhutanese. Week two was spent exploring. And trying to walk slower...