John L. Murphy has completed a mammoth review of just about every book written on Bhutan. He understands the value of a book written by locals and residents.

There are many more books about this amazing country than I knew of, and I’m delighted to see he rated some of my favourites highly – see Beyond the Sky and the Earth and Treasures of the Thunder Dragon. I wondered how he missed Bold Bhutan Beckons, but then I realised that, like my publisher, CopyRight Publishing is an independent publisher. I’m even more honoured, then, that Murphy found and took the time to read Dragon Bones. While it’s not mentioned until about halfway through the article, it’s clear that he valued the depth of experience that went into writing it.

‘Like his compatriot Launsell Taudevin’s With a Dzong in My Heart memoir set in 1988, Murray Gunn finds that advising the locals about Western methods clashes with rank-pulling bureaucrats, a more lackadaisical work ethic than he expected, and a series of culture clashes mixed with awe at the kingdom’s beauty, Buddhist traditions, and courtly atmosphere. While Gunn repeats many of the trekking adventures others do in his account, unique to what I’ve read in other versions, he listens to his guide: “This is our life. We have to come up here no matter what the weather’s like and we do the same trails over and over until our feet are sore. And we can never go anywhere else. There’s no holiday for us.”’

I love the line he chose to quote and his reason for doing so. For me, the trek was fascinating because of the attitude and companionship of the locals who helped us on the journey.

I tried very hard to allow the Bhutanese people in Dragon Bones to tell their own stories and to minimise the bias created by my beliefs, my mood and other aspects of my life. I knew it was an impossible task before I began writing, so I provided clues to my own state of mind in the story and made it clear when I was describing my reactions to an event rather than the event itself.

I wanted readers to experience Bhutanese life themselves and to learn about the Bhutanese culture without forming opinions. There is so much that is good in Bhutan and so much that is discomforting to a foreigner, but of course neither is true for the locals – it’s all just life. If readers were to make judgements, I hoped they would be of my decisions and actions rather than of the local people who were acting according to their own culture and local norms. As the outsider, it was my job to learn and to fit in, but I didn’t always succeed.

I hope this guide will be useful to book clubs and to any classes that may read Dragon Bones. As with all my writing, the focus is on cultural understanding and tolerance. If I have given people a taste of the fascinating Bhutanese culture and generated discussion around tolerance, I will be satisfied.

In 2009 I set myself 4 goals as steps towards a future of providing assistance on locally driven aid projects in developing countries. In their original form, those goals were:

1. Publish a book on Bhutanese culture
2. Complete a Masters in anthropology
3. Buy a studio flat in Australia
4. Invest the rest of my savings to create a modest passive income

I imagined a life as I’d had in Bhutan, where I kept myself entertained with a mix of my own projects and helping develop local talent. In this future, I would collect stories of living and working with locals to tell as part of my mission of building cultural tolerance. As often happens in life, both the goals and vision changed along the way.

Studio flats were more expensive than I had expected and my savings didn’t stretch as far as I had planned, so I ended up buying a one bedroom flat to rent out on a weekly basis. I could then reserve it myself for the times that I returned home. All my CDs and precious items would be accessable from local storage.

But the most important feature of my goals was the flexibility they gave me. I could combine IT, anthropology and writing as appropriate to help local projects. I could focus on writing or on personal involvement in tolerance building activities. Or I could simply enjoy travelling.

Sri Lanka was recognition of my achievement of these goals and a chance to reflect on my priorities. Now I’ve finished my 6 weeks of teaching IT to children from poor families, I know that I want to share my time with someone. So, I’m exercising that flexibility by heading back to Australia to build a life with a special woman. This will require me to go back to income-producing work and it will undoubtedly mean an increase in my materialist desires – smart phone, new speakers.

It doesn’t mean that I’ve put aside my dreams of travel or of writing about culture to build tolerance. I still have a number of posts to write about Sri Lanka and programs like Projects Abroad will provide a good opportunity for quickly immersing myself in local cultures while living permanently in Australia. I also hope to become involved with the Aboriginal community in Sydney and to better understand their struggle to maintain their own culture while fitting into modern Australia. I hope you will follow me into this new future.

Robin, my Bhutanese friend who ran the rock climbing group, passed away last week. He didn’t seem the type to have email let alone facebook (in fact he did) so I haven’t exchanged a word directly with him since I left. My decision to leave came suddenly so I don’t recall even saying goodbye. I wrote the following brief tribute to be included in a book some friends are making in his honour.

Robin, I remember you best from Sundays at The Nose. You welcomed me into the climbing group and taught me how to lead climb. I saw you do the same for countless others, including the Fire Fighting team. You understood our fears and our capabilities and you combined your sense of humour with a touch of drill sergeant to encourage the best in all of us. You were generous. You were a friend. You were inspirational. You were the best of the Bhutanese spirit. I’m sad to know that I’ll never be able to fulfil my promise to bring you Tasmanian fishing lures. May you find all the adventure you seek in your next life.

I received a letter from the Australian Himalayan Foundation thanking me for my donation of the royalties from Dragon Bones. It confirms that the money will go entirely to the RENEW project to enable disadvantaged young girls from Bhutan to attend school. As I know some of the people involved in the project, I hope to be able to post some photos of their work in the future.

The first royalty cheque for Dragon Bones was for 502 copies sold over 6 months. That’s about 10% of my big goal of 5000 sales. My main driver for selling so many copies (it is a lot for an unknown writer) was to ensure substantial support for Bhutanese organisations. To put this in perspective, my full target of 150,000 Nu was equivalent to 18 months base salary for a government employee. The recent strength of the Australian dollar makes the royalties worth far more in Ngultrum so I’ve decided to donate the entire first royalty cheque instead of just half.

This first cheque is going to RENEW. I mentioned RENEW a number of times in Dragon Bones for its work in addressing issues relating to the treatment of women. The organisation is currently partnering with two Australians to provide assistance to girls in rural Bhutan. The money will be used to fund school books, uniforms, meals and boarding facilities as required.

I would encourage others to donate to this cause. The Australian Himalayan Foundation will take donations online and, as a registered charity, can provide a tax receipt to Australian residents. Your money will help educate children who live up to two days walk from the nearest road. A$100 will support one girl for a full year. Please help out.

2011 has been a big year for me. In March, my first book Dragon Bones was released in Hong Kong. In May it was released in the US. In June, I moved into my new flat – the first place of my own that I’ve ever lived in. It’s right on the train line, but it’s large and the sound proofing is excellent. A few weeks ago I submitted my thesis on culture in virtual teams that completes my Masters of Applied Anthropology. And I’ve shared the year with a very special woman.

With so much to celebrate, why then did my friends and family insist on celebrating my 40th birthday? For me, it held no importance, but I was bullied into organising two parties (I chose two to keep them as close to a typical dinner out as I could) for the benefit of others. Whenever I mention my dislike of celebrating a lap of the solar system, people make a comparison to Jehovah’s Witnesses, who apparently also oppose making an event out of birthdays. But I believe that the majority of the world’s people have traditionally had no such celebration.

Birthdays are really a celebration of individualism. The more value a culture places on community, the less likely it is to make a big deal out of an event specific to an individual. Even Christians historically celebrated the name day of their patron saint rather than their own birthdays. Ironically, and perhaps counter to my argument, I have to celebrate my birthday in this individualistic culture for collectivist reasons of meeting community expectations. In my own life, I’ve felt more comfortable celebrating birthdays when they signified a life event such as the right to drink and the end of legally requiring parental approval for my actions.

In many cultures, such rites of passage recognise groups rather than individuals. Massai warriors are initiated into manhood as a group. Boys in Vanuatu become men in a communal celebration at an annual harvest ritual. It has been argued that modern males remain immature late into life due to the lack of such rites of passage. Instead, birthday celebrations demand no challenge of manhood and would seem, through an annual shower of gifts, to reinforce a culture of individualism and possibly even greed. I never missed birthdays when I lived in Japan or Bhutan. They’re not particularly noted in Asia or Africa or in any culture outside of the British empire that I can find.

And perhaps I missed the importance of this birthday. Forty years is roughly the mid point of an average life. This may be a wake up call to set my life in a new direction. How do you celebrate your birthday? What does it mean to you?

I didn’t see what befell the old man, but he’s being helped off the highway crossing by two others as I walk around the corner. He doesn’t appear to know his helpers and doesn’t acknowledge either. As soon as he reaches the curb, he grabs hold of a railing and tries to support himself.

I try to work out what has happened before I offer help. Is the man hurt or in shock or just slow? Was one of the men who helped him off the road a friend? Did the two of them have the situation under control and would they resent interference. Two men and a woman in business suit approach from behind me and offer their help. There’s a hospital just across the road – I wonder if that’s where he came from – would he like them to take him there? It seems to me that the old man really wants to be left alone with a chance to redeem his pride, and he has enough assistance so I go on my way, but with a smile.

Too often I write about how life in Australia frustrates me. We’re usually too focused on ourselves and I miss the culture of Bhutan, where people always have time for one another. I might prefer the passersby to be more aware of the situation before stepping in, but I’m glad to see my countrymen looking out for others. And perhaps I should do something myself. Am I wrong not to step in and offer help? Am I wrong not to ask the others to give the old man some space?

After word: While looking for images for this post, I found an article from China saying that people now don’t offer help to others out of fear they’ll be blamed for whatever happened in the first place. With the growing practice of suing in Western society, I wonder how long it will be before we go that way too. I’m even more happy now to see my countrymen are Good Samaritans.

Recently, I’ve been reading a lot about Bhutanese/Nepali refugees settling into new homes. It’s news I’ve waited years to hear, but that’s short compared to the time these people have waited to feel welcome somewhere.

While I’m always sympathetic to the plight of refugees, I generally don’t think that them fleeing, or repatriating them, is the best option. I said this in a recent post and I’ll say it again until someone shows me why I’m wrong. The Southern Bhutanese case is different. These people didn’t flee. They were pushed out by a government that saw them as a threat to its independence.

As with most events in life, everyone tells a different story. The facts, as far as I can piece them together, are that in the latter half of last century India annexed Sikkhim and Assam and China annexed Tibet. Bhutan was worried that it would be next so they began enforcing the Code of Conduct that dictated citizens adhere to traditional ways – speaking Dzongkha, wearing ghos and kiras etc – in order to reinforce its cultural distinction.

Nepali immigrants who lived mostly in the south, where it’s too hot for the traditional dress, wanted to maintain their own traditional religion, festivals and to (at least occasionally) dress in traditional Nepali costumes.

In 1990, the Bhutanese king decided to remove any non-Bhutanese people and pushed them into India to find their own way. I’ve heard many reasons for this including fear of a planned Southern-Bhutanese revolution to create democracy; fear that India would use the Southern Bhutanese as an excuse to claim Bhutan was culturally part of India; the need to get rid of illegal immigrants; and that they chose to leave themselves. Beyond the Sky and the Earth is an outdated book in many ways, but it is excellent reading if you want a view of these events from the point of view of an expat living in Bhutan at the time.

These immigrants and their families headed back to Nepal, but were not welcomed. They’ve been living in refugee camps for the last twenty years, unacknowledged by either government. I can’t validate any of the reasons for these people leaving or being pushed out, but the number of stories I heard of the Bhutanese government’s refusal to even discuss the issue made me sympathise with the refugees.

They became pawns in political battles that were ostensibly meant for their own benefit. Even when I lived in Bhutan, I heard that new home countries had been found for 90% of the 100,000 refugees, but no country wanted to take the first step. They wanted Bhutan to admit some responsibility for these people and to take a small percentage back before they themselves began repatriation. I’m not sure what has changed, but I’m happy to see that these refugees are finally able to get on with their lives. From what I’ve seen, they’re making great efforts to become involved in the society of their new homes.

Only months before I moved to Bhutan I was introduced to the country by an article that gushed about Gross National Happiness, a concept created by the Bhutanese king in 1972 to guide development. Rather than measuring economic growth, Bhutan aimed for happiness through the four pillars — natural environment, good governance, cultural values and sustainable development. The idea made a lot of sense to me and while it wasn’t pivotal to my decision to move there, it gave me something else to investigate.

Gross Domestic Product, the dominant measure of progress in the West counts industry and the cost of cleaning up pollution as a positive. In this time of concern about our impact on the environment, it makes more sense to consider this cost of cleaning up (or not cleaning up) our mess as a negative against progress. The same goes for any waste of non-renewable resources as an asset squandered loses its value as an asset. Just look at Brunei which has almost run out of oil and has to create a new economy.

During my time in Bhutan GNH guided policy in decisions such as banning plastic shopping bags and limiting the cutting down of trees for firewood to one per family per year. It had previously guided the introduction of television and the internet into Bhutan while blocking MTV and other channels that might distract people from the pursuit of true happiness. The government told us that 70% of the country was covered by forest, which was above the target of 60%, but that still didn’t feel like a real measure of happiness.

This morning I stumbled on an article by an American sent to advise the government on, and to study, the link between ecosystem, economics and happiness. It seems that GNH is now approaching a level where it can be called a science of happiness. Rather than just measuring tree cover, Bhutan’s goal is now to remove more carbon from the atmosphere than it emits and to produce only organic food.

Happiness makes for an odd science with a subjective definition and a moving goal, but I’d love to live in a country that accounts for “benefits people derive from nature – clean air, water and soil; a stable climate; recreational and spiritual opportunities to connect with nature”. Will you let me live with you again one day, Bhutan?