The King's birthday was celebrated in the National Stadium with Bhutanese people returning from all over the world to be a part of it. (In fact, when I couldn't tell which gate my plane would be leaving from in Nepal I just followed a woman in Tibetan-Bhutanese dress.) But due to the crowds and excitement, we had to wake up before dawn to guarantee seats. We had been promised traditional Bhutanese dress to wear but when that fell through Nara wore her traditional Korean dress and Papa Lee and I wore traditional American dress. We couldn't have cell phones or cameras on us and the lines to enter the stadium were separated by gender. We quickly learned the Bhutanese word for "keep moving" as the ladies' line sprinted up the street. Nara and I quickly flagged down a policeman to clarify that our guide and her father were in the other line and were told to wait at the gate. Hearkening back to the pre-cell phone days, we just crossed our fingers that we would meet up.
Bhutan is very big on civil service organizations and keeping order. The army, police, national guard, friends of the police, and scouts were all out in force directing traffic and controlling crowds. Fireworks had been prohibited and the nightly concerts and dance demonstrations ended promptly at ten o'clock each night. I did not see a single drunk and disorderly Bhutanese person in my time there.
So we did meet up and being good travelers we had a cushion, blanket, and plenty of snacks for a day of celebration. We began with a good two hours of people watching where each sector of civil society (the veterans, the ministers, the judges, the parliament, the armed forces, etc color-coded by role) were seated in separate sections. Eventually the Kings and their entourages arrived. First each sector of society had an opportunity to present themselves to Papa King and then Baby King made a speech, the highlight of which, judging by the gasps and cheers from the crowd, was that the Queen was pregnant with a boy due in February. (Way to keep a secret!) The other highlight was when Papa King's horse spooked every time the crowd clapped loudly -- setting off a vicious cycle of events.
After the speeches, conducted entirely in Dzongha (Bhutanese), each state (or ethnic group, I'm not entirely sure) presented a traditional dance as the Kings walked around the stadium greeting people. At one point, Phuntsho pointed out that Papa King had given his watch to someone. No joke. He seems a very generous ruler: the crowds were provided with free water and Coke and packaged cupcakes. Then the warriors danced a slow motion type of dervish and there was a brief interlude where in honor of Papa King's favorite sport, there was a short boxing match in the style of American Gladiator. The boxers were balancing on high platforms and hitting each other with pillows. I just want you to know that I tried very hard to find a good video of this sport and it seems to have been a figment of my imagination. It could have been sunstroke as we were prohibited from wearing hats in the Kings' presence. But the warrior dance was real (video from a different event):
After a few dances Papa Lee decided to go back to the hotel to take a nap. Phuntsho was worried that Papa Lee wouldn't be able to find his way back but Nara convinced him that as a world traveler (40 countries!) he'd be fine. So we watched him walk off in the wrong direction.
After a few more dances, we picked up Papa Lee and went out for burgers. I wanted to split a yak burger with Nara because when will we ever get to eat yak burger. I noticed that Nara was pronouncing yak a little funny (y'know she's Korean) but was still surprised when we were served an egg sandwich. Post once-in-a-lifetime egg sandwich, we wandered around town buying postcards.
Phuntsho has a great sense of timing. He not only took us to monuments of cultural importance or to viewing spots for sweeping landscapes but he also timed it so that the lighting was ideal for atmosphere. (Shameless plug: Travel Bhutan with Kuentshok Tours!) So after the King's shindig, he drove us to the royal palace and government buildings in the hopes that we would see it as it lit up for the night. Unfortunately we were a little too early so had to make do with taking photos of the rose garden in the dusk and trying to convince the guards to turn the lights on a smidge earlier then planned. They demurred but did pose in a photo with us.
I was enchanted by the kissing fish.
Technically, the fish are part of Buddhist ideology and represent the auspiciousness of all living beings in a state of fearlessness, without danger of drowning in the ocean of sufferings, and migrating from place to place freely and spontaneously, just as fish swim freely without fear through water. But I'm still gonna go with kissing fish.
Technically, the fish are part of Buddhist ideology and represent the auspiciousness of all living beings in a state of fearlessness, without danger of drowning in the ocean of sufferings, and migrating from place to place freely and spontaneously, just as fish swim freely without fear through water. But I'm still gonna go with kissing fish.
Not content to leave well enough alone, we went to the handicrafts market to kill some time before returning to the palace to see it all lit up. Despite the quality of this particular photo, it was an enchanting view.
To conclude the day we went out with Kunzang one last time and over Ema Datsi and red rice shared stories about how we met Nara. Evidently, one day when Kunzang was at grad school she worried aloud what to do with her wet umbrella in the student lounge. Nara, leaping to conclusions, snapped "No one's going to steal your stupid umbrella." Kunzang turned to our mutual friend Sumana and said that she thought Nara was rude. Specifically she said "I don't like your friend." Sumana, in her calm Nepali goodness said that Nara only insulted people she really liked. At this point in Kunzang's recounting of the story Nara piped up "Tell her how we met, Ellen." You see, I met Nara in my first week of orientation at grad school when I was puzzling over how to calculate a standard deviation by hand. Nara turned to me and said, "Y'know you'd be smart if you weren't so distractable." While this is true, I harbored uncharitable thoughts toward her until Sumana, ever the rescuer, reintroduced us a few weeks later.
Now Nara and I insult each other (and takins) with glee.
To conclude the day we went out with Kunzang one last time and over Ema Datsi and red rice shared stories about how we met Nara. Evidently, one day when Kunzang was at grad school she worried aloud what to do with her wet umbrella in the student lounge. Nara, leaping to conclusions, snapped "No one's going to steal your stupid umbrella." Kunzang turned to our mutual friend Sumana and said that she thought Nara was rude. Specifically she said "I don't like your friend." Sumana, in her calm Nepali goodness said that Nara only insulted people she really liked. At this point in Kunzang's recounting of the story Nara piped up "Tell her how we met, Ellen." You see, I met Nara in my first week of orientation at grad school when I was puzzling over how to calculate a standard deviation by hand. Nara turned to me and said, "Y'know you'd be smart if you weren't so distractable." While this is true, I harbored uncharitable thoughts toward her until Sumana, ever the rescuer, reintroduced us a few weeks later.
Now Nara and I insult each other (and takins) with glee.
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