Word: bhutan
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...they were good friends. In the beginning, I think of him as just a friend of my brother’s. The day I arrive, Dasho stops by to welcome me. Eight bodyguards wait outside while we drink milk tea and chat about Dan, Boston, my work here in Bhutan for the Royal Society for the Protection of Nature. Later, Dasho meets me for dinner at “Druk Hotel.” We eat ema datsi, the national dish—an incendiary bowl of hot chilli peppers and cheese—as he tries to hide behind...
When I walk through town the next day in my jeans and t-shirt, I may as well be wearing a string bikini; guys leer, girls giggle as I walk by. Bhutan has laws requiring citizens to wear national dress: a gho for men and kira for women. So on my second day, I go kira shopping. This turns out to be quite difficult. Unlike American retailers, eager to sell even the most hideous products, the woman in the textile shop immediately contradicts all my selections, simply saying “No” to each fabric I point...
...board my flight home, I am left with one lingering question: Is life in the US really better than life in Bhutan? Sure, we have washing machines and department stores, flushing toilets and pizza delivery and real showers. But do we appreciate any of those things? And if the answer is no, then are we no better off? Are our lives happier, or just easier? In Bhutan, life is shorter but it is infused with meaning and filled with familial love—due in particular to the Buddhist beliefs that permeate every black and white farmhouse...
...same time, I remind myself not to romanticize Bhutan. For all its natural beauty and fairy tale-like aspects, there is poverty and lack of education and even racism. One night, my friend Tshering, in a rare break from the usual unwavering Bhutanese patriotism, confides that she would love to travel to the US. “For good?” I ask, “Or just a visit...
...will be good,” she tells me. “But I’ll always come back to Bhutan.” And in the restless black of the Bhutan night, I pledge the same...