In search of happiness in the land of the thunder dragon

I made a promise to my daughter that we would go trekking in India or somewhere remote since she was 15 years. She was charmed with India after having served twice in her school’s CIP programme.

Now that she completed university, it is opportune time. Then, Tiger mum (aka The Wife) appeared and asked: “Don’t you folks want to learn how to live happy?” So our 7 day trek in Nepal was torpedoed. We compromised, settled for several treks in search of happiness in the land of the thunder dragon.

As many of you may know, Bhutan takes pride in this Gross Happiness Index formula to measure happiness of its people. According to this index, they are supposedly the happiest people on earth.

Here in Singapore, every other person seems to be testy, ever ready with an opinion on just about anything. The latest include whether to cull or caress our wild boars. I remembered years ago, Priscilla, a tamed sow boar, resides at Chew Jawa, Pulau Ubin. She simply enjoys being tickled on its belly! But these are WILD. NParks have gone that extra mile to explain the rationale to cull. We need to act before someone gets seriously hurt.

Bhutan physical size is 350 km by 150km. It’s 70% forest with 8% arable land. The terrain is hilly and mountainous with some peaks over 7,500 metres. The population is 700,000 and literacy is under 60%. Hydropower contributes about 60% revenue (sold to India), 25% tourism and a mixed bag of small inconsequential sectors. Life expectancy is below 66 years. In tourism, their emphasis is low volume, high value. The local currency is in Bhutanese Ngultrum and is interchangeable at par with the Indian Rupee. English is widely spoken and our guide Dorji speaks perfect English; thanks to many overseas teachers from India and Canada during his schooling years.

There is no direct flight to Bhutan from Singapore (akan datang, September 2012). As such, we overnighted in Bangkok, crawled out of bed at 3:00am, chauffeured to the airport and arrived 3 hrs ahead of flight time. Talk about kiasuism on the part of the agent.

There is only 1 international airport located at Paro and Bhutan’s capital, Thimphu, is 50 km away. The only operating airline is Druk Air, state owned with a few A319 Airbus, powered by A320 engines. In the words of my guide, Druk Air pilots are well trained to sneak in and out without radar assist; all things visual.

Our flight was delayed 2 hours because of massive clouds. We circled twice before landing. We took pictures of the plane, runway and, of course, with the lovely poster of the 5^th King and Queen. Her Highness is stunningly pretty with mesmerizing eyes, 10 years his junior. My spirit was momentarily uplifted, good start to have a pretty Queen and an educated, happy King. (they were wedded last Oct11).

Immigration was a breeze. We took over an hour of meandering about to get to Thimphu followed by some sightseeing. By the time I turned in bed past 10pm; I was totally concussed for the day. Just before blissful sleep set in, Tiger mum shook me vigorously and said: “honey, the lights went off”. Can you blah, blah, blah... Whilst my spirit was willing, my flesh was dead and I mumbled that she should just go sleep.

Apparently, she had not showered and the ensuing ruckus must have awakened all the dogs in the neighbourhood. Mercifully, the lights came back 40 minutes later. Otherwise, I would have been eaten in comatose state. Thank God, the day ended on a happy note.    

On the second day, I notice vehicular traffic was sparse. Apparently, private vehicles are taken “off road” every Tuesday leaving all to depend on public transport of buses and taxis. Taxis also have to take a day off once a week based on even or odd number plate.

Smoking is not allowed anywhere except in private homes. There is no “over the counter” tobacco sales and the natural substitute is “doma”; beetle nut chewed with a piece of leaf and mixture of gooey lime. Bhutanese loves to chew this all day long. Not so long ago, we too chewed “doma”, especially with the elderly. Marijuana (considered wild weed) is everywhere. I collected some, crushed it, but there is no aroma of any sort. I was told by Dorji it has to be roasted for efficacy.

Without tobacco, we would have 16% of more unhappy 18-29 years in Singapore. Without private vehicles for a day, we would be screaming murder! So, why are they happier than us when more affairs are regulated?

Theirs is probably a state of “resilient poor”. Most of them have roofs over their heads, plant vegetables for sustenance living. Some better off own fowls and animals. But life is very hard. Getting to school may require walking 1.5 hrs from one ridge to another and then another 1.5 hrs to get home. Planting rice is back breaking and climate dependent; at best, two crops a year. Produce, commodities are barely enough for domestic consumption.   

In urban Singapore, our very poor are likely “unhappy poor”. All our edible items are imported. Without money as exchange tokens, one simply cannot bring food to the table. We don’t have the land to rear chickens or tend to cows. At best, we grow some vegetables along the corridor or balcony. While therapeutic, the yield is never enough to feed the family (I experimented). So our poor generally have to depend on state hand outs and from well-wishers.  Over time, our very poor may be conditioned as “handout happy”, trapped in a vicious cycle.

From Thimphu, we travelled to Punakha, our second stop. On the way, we visited Chimi Lhakhang – The Temple of Fertility, dedicated to Lama Drukpa Kuenley, the Divine Madman. Getting there was quite an adventure as we criss-crossed over paddy fields. Couples who visit the temple are blessed by a replication of the iron bow and arrows of Drukpa Kuenley, his scriptures and the phallus, which is the symbolic representation of fertility. It’s rather an unusual place with phallic symbols all over. Wife and I were tickled pink, happy to redirect all good intended blessings to our daughter.

Besides the temple of fertility, we visited the Queen’s Village at Talo. It’s was a winding, uphill climb of over an hour. The village is essentially a monastery of sort for boys entering monkhood. There must have been more than a hundred of them of various ages; each holding a piece of paper (a few lines of script) and scribbling repeatedly in a huge garden in the sun. Some of them were blowing their “long horns”, similar to those in Switzerland.  Some gawked as we obviously looked alien. I cannot say they looked happy or otherwise. Most looked beyond their age, exposed to the harsh elements. What would become of them as they grow up? What would they do for a living? There are no easy answers.

We walked down the village, came across a farmer no more than 5 feet, hunched, carrying a huge basket on his back and holding an old fashion ‘changkol’ in one hand. We bowed, and my guide exchanged a few words. As he proceeded downhill, my guide turned to us and asked if we mind giving the old man a lift down to Punakha. Of course not, we said.

In our exchange in the van, we learn the farmer’s home is next to the Queen’s village. He grows some vegetables and fruits. He owns another small plot of land near valley of Punakha for growing rice. He was on his way to the market in Punakha to sell his basket of peaches. For him, it would have been a 3 hr walk downhill. On the van, it took 45 mins.

Upon arrival at our hotel, we bought some peaches from him. He was insistent in not charging us. We flatly refused and paid him fully. After pushing to and fro, he reluctantly accepted our payment. Recently, I read Michael Lewis Princeton University's 2012 Baccalaureate Remarks and the issue of “luck” popped up. Extract reads:
"But you must sense its arbitrary aspect: you are the lucky few. Lucky in your parents, lucky in your country, lucky that a place like Princeton exists that can take in lucky people, introduce them to other lucky people, and increase their chances of becoming even luckier.”

It begs the question? Are we the lucky people in Singapore or are they the lucky ShangriLa, the size of Switzerland?

On the penultimate day, we made our way to Tiger’s Nest (a prominent Himalayan Buddhist sacred site and temple complex, located in the cliff side of the upper Paro valley, Bhutan. A temple complex was first built in 1692, around the Taktsang Senge Samdup cave where Guru Padmasambhava is said to have meditated for three months in the 8th century. Padmasambhava is credited with introducing Buddhism to Bhutan), a must visit place.

A return journey to the peak at 3,120 m takes 5 hrs. It sure makes Pengkang Hill, SAFTI a walk in the park. Tiger mum, smiling ear to ear, outsourced a horse to take her to the top (one way only). We minions, including Dorji, soldiered on stoically on foot. She was initially terrified with the horse but soon got into rhythm as the animal trotted uphill. Half way through, another party with a few horses overtook us. One disgruntled horse, overtook us, kicked Tiger mum in the shin as if telling her to get off the horse. We could only snigger as we were so out of breath!

I left Bhutan 1.5 kilo lighter after all the hard trekking, feeling satisfied to tick off another item in my bucket list. When the wife consolidated all travel bills, I felt only half happy. And she is less happy too, having to nurse a bruise.       

Side note

I replayed backwards to reflect on my formative years. Poor as I was, somehow I remembered more “happy than unhappy days” and asked why? I suspect my surroundings played a major part in keeping me upbeat. I had nature’s 3Ss on my side…the sun, sea and sand. Then again, maybe mum’s reminder that in the school of hard knocks, the harder you work, the luckier you get. Supposedly good luck makes for a happier person.

My fantastic guide Dorji is likely to visit SG in Sep/Oct. He is superb and understands good service after having worked in high-end Aman for over 10 years. I intend to get him to give a presentation.