[If you're looking for my current posts from the journey to Bhutan, with updates each day, you will find them below.]
As my altered-ego Harry the Human reported (http://harrythehuman.harrythehumanpoliticalthoughtsfrombeyondthepale.com/), my wife and I are traveling to Bhutan Thanksgiving day. I had not intended to bombard readers with boring descriptions of how beautiful Bhutan is, but Harry's desert companion Robert the Telepathic Gila Monster has intervened -by designating himself our traveling companion - to make this a challenging trip, and I'll need to write and post about it just to maintain internal stability. It seems I'll be expected to smuggle Robert through various airport security systems and flights, then, upon arriving in Bhutan's capital city, Thimphu, transport him through mountain valleys (far north of the pre-set itinerary of our tour) to Gangkhar Puensum, at 24,000 feet Bhutan's highest peak, which is ruled by an ancient pre-Buddhist mountain god named InsertHere (don't ask), to whom Robert will convey greetings from InsertHere's cousin, Tab B (Harry explains the odd nomenclature), who as it happens is the god of our own Funeral Peak in the Black Mountains outside Death Valley. Recently Tab B came to Robert in a dream and told him that he, Robert, must accompany me to Bhutan to give greetings to his estranged cousin and commune about the world situation. There will be a lot to commune about, as it will be the month after America's fateful 2024 Presidential election, and we will know a little more about which way the world is turning. I can't say I understand how I'll be smuggling a live gila monster through multiple airport securities, not to mention two nights of preparatory clubbing in Bangkok, but Robert assures me that anything is possible when a mountain god is on your side. All I know for sure is that I'll be posting updates assiduously on this journey, as it promises to be something beyond the typical Instagram mediated show-off vacation. Stay tuned, readers!
Update, 11/27/24: The election is over and, speaking of which way the world is turning, lately after reading the news I wonder if this is the moment when the sidewalk prophets climb on their crates and shout:
Arrrrmaggedon! For the Seventh Horseman spake, saying 'Lo, the liars and cheats shall flail about, but heed them not, for the mighty hand of the Lord shall be upon them...in fact it shall be upon all of you- tough luck, I guess.
No wonder you walk away from these guys (they're mostly men) not as euphoric as you're supposed to be: they never explain why you're being punished. Not that I can explain it. I did want to mention that my trip to Bhutan seems oddly timed, almost as if, by leaving on Thanksgiving Day (tomorrow!) we will enter a space-time vortex to arrive at the spot where the Bhutanese culture- a band of wise, strong, practical and nature loving people- figured out how to live squeezed between India and China with no fear of either. They did this by planting themselves in the highest reaches of the Himalayas and greeting every visitor who could figure out how to get there with disarming irony and grace. Though 60 Minutes revealed that in the last 30 years modernity has arrived and Bhutan's young people are leaving for the more exciting but less beautiful outer world, Bhutan retains its spirits and gods (they have no interest in leaving). FYI, the plan is still that Robert the Telepathic Gila Monster will accompany me (I don't say "accompany us" because there's no way my wife will accompany this guy), though it remains unclear how I'm getting him through 10 separate airport securities. This promises to be an adventurous trip, but if you're thinking, "This is just right for Doug; he's so adventurous!", I only like adventure in my head; actual adventure I don't care for. Nevertheless, I remain your faithful retired guy/influencer, D.L.
Day 1
It's actually happening: I'm sitting in the terminal at LAX with my wife, Susan; it's almost Thanksgiving dinnertime, of all times [Booking the flight on Thanksgiving was caused by a distracted agent and our not noticing; we had to convince a skeptical family to congregate early], waiting for our flight to Taiwan (a two hour stay), followed by a connecting flight to Bangkok (two days spent, I guess, drinking and getting massages), then on to Thimphu, Bhutan, our final destination, as exotic and remote a city and country as you can find on the planet, for a 10 day tour.
Did I mention that in my carry-on is a live gila monster, a telepathic one, named Robert? Out in the Mojave he goes by the stage name, Robert the Telepathic Gila Monster and is surprisingly well-known in some realms. He stumbled into my acquaintance through our mutual friendship with Harry (who goes by Harry the Human and whose journal you can read at http://harrythehuman.harrythehumanpoliticalthoughtsfrombeyondthepale.com/). Robert twisted my arm to take him on this trip, which was supposed to be an easy-going stroll through fabulous beauty followed by bragging about it on Instagram. Now it's about sneaking away from the pre-paid tour and trekking two hundred miles north, through twisty Himalayan passes, to the world's highest unclimbed mountain, Gangkhar Puensum, on the Tibetan border. How are we going to do that? TBD.
Gangkhar Puensum is unclimbed because mountain climbing is illegal in Bhutan, as it would disturb the deities who reside on and rule each mountain. Notwithstanding, Robert's quest is to disturb Gangkhar Puensum's deity. I'll let Robert explain that to you. I'm busy explaining it to Susan, whose first question was, "How will you get him past airport security?" This question, at least, has been answered: Robert sent out disorienting brain waves in the security lines that made him in effect invisible to both human and X-ray vision. He is now smugly curled up in my carry-on, beaming his own account of our travels to Harry's blog, where you can read them at the link above.
I want to forget about Robert for a moment and concentrate on the timing of this trip. Yesterday President-elect Trump's choice for Special Envoy to Ukraine and Russia, Keith Kellog, said, "The world is on the precipice of World War III." Is this a good time to soar off to a far away place for two weeks? What if the world goes over the precipice while I'm sampling yak cheese that I could have got at Trader Joe's?
Sorry for my cynical mood. Hopefully when we take off I'll feel uplifted. Yuk! Yuk! (or should I say "Yak! Yak!"?).
Day 2?
We just finished the 12 hour flight to Taipei and my sense of time is screwed up. Is it Friday or Saturday? Waiting for the connecting flight to Bangkok, I watch dawn appear out of the terminal window and ponder the long flight over the Pacific. It was filled with strange elements, as you might expect if you stuffed a metal cylinder with random people coerced by modern life to sit huddled within, and shot it through the sky. For instance, studying a lady across the isle who was watching a World War II move about American POW's being tortured by Japanese soldiers, produced a twisted sort of hope. In a true totalitarian state the movie would have been censored because it presents Japan as an enemy, which is not the current narrative. The censor board would replace it with an anti-Chinese movie because in Taiwan we're supposed to fear a Chinese takeover. I'm not sensing anyone in this airport thinking about China- except for me. Dawn lights up downtown Taipei through the terminal window. Maybe someone over there is worried about China. We're still living in the archaic World War II world. If anyone is thinking about existential threats it should no longer be about countries or ethnicities, because these will be re-written. We're all on the same side now, against AI designed Humanity 2.0. By the way, if you're wondering what Robert the Telepathic Gila Monster makes of the trip so far, though he appears to be asleep in my carry-on, for all I know he's recording his thoughts on Harry the Human at this moment. Let's take a look. I think that will do it for me until our hotel in Bangkok, where I will brush my teeth, take a shower and a nap. The booze and massage parlors will have to wait. That's just the kind of guy I am. Over and out. D.L.
Day 3
Forget booze and massage parlors, we spent Sunday doing a "Temple tour" with an engaging Thai guide named Sophia. As we left the airport hotel on the expressway into Bangkok, I was struck by the similarities to Los Angeles: a dry warm climate and urban sprawl. Both cities host about 10 million people. The differences soon became clear. In Bangkok one religion prevails: Buddhism. In Los Angeles all the religions of the world contend for recognition. In Bangkok there is a dominant ethnicity, referred to locally as "the Thai people," while L.A. is a jumble of the world's ethnicities. The Thai format seems more efficient, unless of course you're not Thai. Thai people compensate for their exclusivity with an exaggerated obeisance to visitors, expressed most frequently with the "wai," in which one presses one's palms together as if in prayer and bows toward the other person. The wai is everywhere constantly. It is indiscriminent, though quite pleasant.
The temples are overwhelming in their beauty and meaning. Buddha had a postive message for humanity, involving acceptance of a universal human soul and a cosmic view of things in which human suffering is diminished as one ponders an existence beyond temporal constraints. Most striking to me was the Temple of the Reclining Buddah, a gigantic golden statue, hundreds of feet long, of Buddah lying on his side, his head comfortably supported by his right palm, a slight smile on his face. I was surprised to learn from Sophia that Buddah at this moment is about to die, and is contemplating with joyful anticipation his death. He is joyful because he knows that death is part of a natural cycle in which the soul is reincarnated, rejoining the universe in new forms. As I will be 79 in January, I was struck by the contrast with my view of my own death as an entrance into something completely unknown, perhaps nothingness, or some terrible punishment for my shortcomings, or something else, who knows what? Could this be related to my culture's Judeo/Christian mythology, in which pain is the central element of human awareness and evolution? The cross, the symbol of Christianity, represents a Roman torture device, in which our Buddah, Christ, was slowly killed as he experienced indescribable pain. I am Jewish, but Jewish mythology is no less harsh. I've always been especially horrified by the story of Abraham and Isaac, where God, our supreme source of wisdom and guidance, tells Abraham that he must slay his son in a sacrifice that demonstrates his obedience to divine authority. Abraham assents, after which God tells him it was just a test, which he passed, and the sacrifice is off. What in the world is the message here? I've never heard a reassuring explanation.
