Jon Gone to Bhutan

Since I was just entering my first adolescent beginning as a man, I’ve had this phenomenon with love: whenever I really liked a girl I would feel something like a kick in the gut when she walked in the room.   Not painful, mind, but like a sudden, intense rush of butterflies.   This was always the proof that I waited for: no kick in the gut, no love.   You may fear at this point that you’re a paragraph into a sappy blog post about love.   Well, in a way, you are.   But don’t worry; I’d sooner post musings about my bowel movements than start blogging about such emotions. So be patient, that strange opening will make sense soon enough. I’m sitting now at my favorite home-away-from-home in eastern Bhutan.   I have three hours left in this three-day drive from Thimphu back to my posting in Wamrong.   To be clear, I say that as a celebration, not a complaint.   The drive is long and difficult, but any English teacher worthy of the name knows that the road is always a metaphor for

First entry in almost a year, and I confess it's just a slightly edited copy/paste from my journal.  Running is one of the most important aspects of my life here, physical and spiritual, so this seems like a good way to start.  Again. These days I run with a high-vis rain jacket on.   It features this cool modular system where the sleeves attach with magnets, which means I can run in shirtsleeves but also carry rain protection in case of sudden downpour.   Which is of course likely during monsoon season.   I heard two teachers talking today in the staffroom, one telling the other that he’d heard reports of the monsoon having reached the Maldives.   Funny, I thought it was here already.   But isn’t that cool, the rain moving like a living being with a clearly traceable route of progress, his arrival anticipated much the same way an important rimpoche’s would be… Along with the jacket, the other notable pre-run detail is the important items I pack with me: I carry a bag of s