get thee to a nunnery

“I don’t want to go, I don’t want to go, I do not want to go." I had decided that morning that I didn’t want to go. I wanted to stay with John and Diane, I wanted to travel, I did not want to be left alone. A couple days ago, it seemed like such a great idea. I can go to a nunnery for a week, meditate, learn about Buddhism, and spend some time with the nuns. No. It didn't sound like a fun idea anymore. I would have very few people to talk to, only two or three people spoke English in the entire nunnery. I told Diane that I did not want to go. She told me that I could talk to her anytime I didn’t feel comfortable with the idea of going. "You have to go, she told me, it is too late to back out now." They were leaving for Punahka and they did not have extra space in the car. My vision started the blur and I looked at my hands in my lap. They couldn’t see that I was on the verge of tears. I am in Bhutan, I am supposed to be having a great time, I am supposed to be happy and appreciative. But I didn’t want to be happy, I didn’t want to go to the nunnery. But I will go. I started to smile and I realized that I could have a great time, or a horrible time, it was all up to me. So I put a smile on my face, I looked into Diane’s eyes and I told her that I was ready. The llama from Wales was staring at me intently. Was he judging me? Was he looking at me and laughing inside about this silly American girl who couldn’t just suck it up and go to a nunnery for a week? I started into his eyes and silently told him that I was going to do this, I had the strength to endure.

I shifted uncomfortably and repositioned my right foot. I straitened my back and I few cracks erupted from the middle of my spine. I would have to get use to the discomfort of having nothing to lean against. I was sitting in front of the Rinpoche of the nunnery that I was staying at. Diane was next to me, and across from me was John and Sange, our driver. A Rinpoche is a reincarnate and a very important person in the Buddhist culture. He was 19-year-old guy, Bhutanese, a Rinpoche, a Buddhist, and all I could see was a teenager. After Diane and John left I went for a walk with him. We talked about Buddhism, America, American movies and music. I found out that he is a fan of ACDC and Eminem, he has facebook, and he is an incredible pool player. Who would have thought? Now, we’ve listened and discussed American music, we’ve become facebook friends, and we’ve paired up together for a game of pool. And I don’t even know if we won or not. With their game of pool, there are a bunch of red balls, and then some colored balls, and no numbers. You win by points, and where the points come from is still a mystery.

Ziluhka nunnery, Stupa in the building on the left and building with candles for offerings on the right


After the walk we went back into his room and watched TV for a while. I didn’t think I’d see any TV’s at the nunnery, let alone be able to watch one. An hour later I was sitting by myself in a room near the kitchen, waiting. This would soon become a routine. I would be in this room alone, sitting cross-legged on the carpet with a small, rectangular table in front of me, and wait for my food. Then I would eat in solitude and leave. Halfway through every meal, a nun would ask me, “second shares?” At first I didn’t want more food so I would say no. Then, looking hurt and offended, she would ask, “you don’t like?” Shocked that I had offended her, I accepted ‘second shares’ every time since then. I think I gained 10 pounds while at the nunnery.

Nawang Pal, the nun that I had talked to in the states, showed me to my room. It was probably about 7 feet by 8 feet by 7 feet, and would be my sanctuary while at the nunnery. I was given a key to a pad lock that would keep my door locked during the day. I was confused as to why I would lock my door at a nunnery, assuming that it was probably a very safe place. I doubted that a nun would steal my belongings, but I locked by door none the less.

I went to my room after dinner. I could barely eat the food in fear of receiving third degree burns throughout my entire mouth. I sat on my mattress, with no blankets yet, and waited. Nawang said that she had to do puja at a house nearby and would be back soon. She returned an hour or two later and gave me some blankets. Now, I’m not really one for pink; apparently nuns are. The sheet separating me from the mattress had a dark pink background. The print was a lighter pink with flowers and had the world “Love” written everywhere. Then, the thick blanket on top was a light pink with pink flowers and pink trim. I could only force a smile and thank her for the beautiful comforters. I gagged after she left the room, but could only be thankful for the incredible hospitality. During my stay, I grew to like the color a little more, damn nuns.

My room, not much is missing


That first night was memorable. I lied on my bed, which ended up being a thin mattress lying on the floor, in a fetal position and stared above. There were a few pictures of Buddha, the Rinpoche, His Holiness, and some mandalas. To my left I could hear other nuns getting ready for bed. It wasn’t hard to hear them through the thin piece of plywood separating our rooms. I was feeling alone and disconnected. But the feelings were forgotten while I drifted off to a peaceful sleep.

I opened my eyes to the darkened room. I was confused because I didn’t know why I was awake. Then I heard it again, a soft ‘gong’ resonating throughout the nunnery. It was morning prayer (puja) and it was 4 a.m. The nuns started their days at about 4:30 with a three-hour prayer. I drifted back asleep and probably awoke around 7 or so. At nine they resumed their puja and kept at it until noon. Then they finished it off with puja from about 3:30 to 7. I would come and sit down on the floor and watch them. They would chant for hours in the incredibly foreign language, bang on drums, throw rice, and blow horns; the whole shebang. I found the entire event very soothing. I would sit there for hours, breathing and listening.

No one expected me to shave my head. I was thankful that I didn’t have to. Coming to Bhutan, I half expected to shave my head. I asked Nawang about this and she started to laugh. She said that is isn’t about your hair or your clothes that makes you a Buddhist. It is about your heart and your mind.

Ziluhka nunnery, on the left above the wall is the kitchen and where I ate all meals. The building on the right is where all puja’s where held. Above the prayer room in Rinpoche's room


The days past, and I was uncomfortable. I had time to sit and be still, but I wanted to learn, or do something. Nawang took me to the market in town over the weekend. Everything imaginable was sold at the market; fruit, meat, chilies, doma, rice, wheat, shoes, bags, clothes, asparagus, everything. I talked with the Rinpoche and Nawang Pal. The third or fourth day, I met with the Rinpoche. We watched some more TV and just talked. We talked about some more movies, Thich Naht Hanh (he was currently reading a book of his), and the English language. There are some ridiculous words in the English language like colonel, knife, lieutenant, etc. After talking with the Rinpoche I went down to evening puja. While there, I created my own meditation. I started at my first shakra, the base of the spine, and worked my way to the seventh shakra. For each shakra, I would inhale and exhale once. Then after one round, I would start again but take two inhalations and two exhalations. I slowly worked my way to ten, then I would go back down to one. If I became distracted, I would inhale once for each shakra, and pick up where I left off. I rarely make it to ten, and then back down. It takes a bit of time.

One of the greatest things about being at the nunnery was not worrying about looking crazy, and their food and tea. The second morning I was served Corn Flakes with warm milk. From then on I was served only one meal after the second day. They found out that I loved their potato dish with rice, and it was incredible. They sliced up potatoes into thin slices and made some sort of curry with it. I could live off the potatoes and rice for years. Then, they usually served tea with it. They made a milk tea with sugar. They would boil the tea with the powdered milk for a few minutes, and it was amazing. I have tried to re-create it or ask for it in restaurants. The tea doesn’t even come close.

I didn’t’ feel crazy at the nunnery at all, which is rare. I could sit for hours and stare off into the distance, or sit for hours with my eyes closed, and no one took a second glance. It was alright, it was normal. I didn't feel awkward, no one interrupted me, no one started waving their hands in front of my face. It was peaceful. I could also walk around in circles muttering to myself all day. That would be a daily occurrence for almost everyone. What an incredible place! We have places like that back in the states, but they usually come with strait jackets. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not calling the Bhutanese crazy, I’m calling them sane. I think that we have to take a second look at our sanity as a society.