Monthly Archive for March, 2008

Gross National Happiness

For the past few months I’ve read almost nothing except guidebooks, which is really, really boring.  Salvation came in the form of a USPS package, an early birthday present from my friend, Heidi.  She sent me a book called The Geography of Bliss:  One Grump’s Search for the Happiest Places in the World, by Eric Weiner.  The author examines happiness cross-culturally and asks, “How does the concept of happiness vary from place to place?”  He profiles a number of countries who rank high on most happiness scales, one of which is Bhutan.

television.jpgBefore reading this book, I couldn’t have located Bhutan on a map (it neighbors Nepal), nevertheless told you a single thing about it.  It’s not too surprising why:  Bhutan’s sheer geography, perched high in the Himalayas, has kept it segregated from much of the world for centuries.  According to Weiner, it was the last country in the world to receive television (in 1999), and there was nary a road, school, or hospital until 1962.  It is also the world’s first nonsmoking nation, and has the only capital city without a traffic light.  And you must really want to go to get there.  In order to curb the rampant tourism that has affected its neighbor, Nepal, a visit to Bhutan requires a payment of $200 per day to hire a Bhutanese guide. 

Bhutan has been catapulted into the international spotlight through its Gross National Happiness policy, which, according to my friend, Nissane, was highlighted in this month’s National Geographic.  It is an antidote to Gross National Product, which calculates a country’s worth based on what it produces in economic terms.  “In a nutshell, Gross National Happiness seeks to measure a nation’s progress not by its balance sheet but rather by the happiness — or unhappiness — of its people” (Weiner, p. 56).  Eric Weiner, in his drive through Bhutan’s countryside, sees a sign that sums up this philosophy:

When the last tree is cut,
When the last river is emptied,
When the last fish is caught,
Only then will man realize that he cannot eat money.

bhutan.jpgSometimes a place captures your imagination, for no apparent reason, and there was something about Bhutan that grabbed me.  It is a culture characterized by paying attention to others, by compromise and cooperation, and by trust; all things I wish I had more of in my life.  This newfound fascination with Bhutan reflects a hope that a visit there would rub off on me in some way, as if by osmosis.  I wonder if that’s why we travel, to gain the things we can’t at home, be it outstanding crepes or a sought-after perspective.  I have often wondered if this trip is a way for me to explore what makes me happy.  It’s a question I often ask myself, but have a difficult time answering.  They say that home is where the heart is, and that we carry our troubles with us.  But I also believe that happiness can be deeply linked with place, and I wonder if I’m not searching for a place that will help me define and reflect my own idea of happiness.  People often ask me, “How did you choose the places you did to visit on your trip?”  Sometimes, the answer is as simple as, “Because I’ve always wanted to go there.”  And sometimes that’s reason enough. 

Typhoid Mary

dscf1361.jpgI have just been stuck in the arm with yellow fever, Hepatitis A & B, and meningitis vaccines, and I’ve never felt better. 

Getting vaccinated is the first tangible thing that’s signaled to me that this trip is really going to happen.  All of this talk of airplane tickets and accomodations and renting our house is still just that:  talk.  Today, I have the bruise and sore spot on my right arm to prove that we are leaving in four months.  We’ve saved and saved our money, but until yesterday, there has been no financial committment to this trip.  I was warned that the vaccinations alone would run us around $400, so this felt like a big step.  There was no going back now. 

But lo and behold, when we checked in for our appointment, we discovered that the insurance plan through Maikael’s work covers all travel-related vaccines and medications.  We were shocked, which was soon followed by a feeling of intense gratitude.  On behalf of The Thomas Family, we’d like to say to Maikael’s employer, “Thank you.”  So we still have yet to make any financial obligations to this trip — even the plane tickets that will be purchased in the next week are fully refundable — but I’m sure it’s coming soon.

dscf1343.jpgThere is a national shortage of the yellow fever vaccine.  The vial, which provides up to five doses, must be used within an hour, at which time it becomes inactive.  Therefore, the clinic tries to get five people in at the same time to make the most of the vaccine.  We shared the lobby with a young UNM student who is preparing to go to Africa to help a team of opthamologists in rural villages; an older gentleman bound for Kenya who loudly shared his “hilarious” story of videotaping large game in Africa; and a woman preparing for a mission trip to Uganda.  As always, we were the odd ones out.  And it wasn’t your typical doctor’s office conversation.  “So tell me, dear, where are you going that has yellow fever?”

dscf1344.jpgThey like to make the most of your vaccination visit.  The attitude seems to be, “Hey, you’re going to feel like crap whether we give you one vaccine or four, so why not do four today?”  After receiving our yellow fever vaccine, Maikael and I stayed behind for our “pre-travel consultation.”  I imagine this takes your average traveler about 10 minutes.  We emerged two hours later with a ream of paper, a stack of prescriptions, and a gigantic box filled with medicine. 

I loved the consultation office.  The walls were graced with such cheery poster as, “Asia is wonderful.  Japenese encephilitis is not.”  There was also a table piled high with fake food, including rubbery-looking green beans, a plastic pork chop, and a very realistic looking tortilla fashioned from a folded round of felt.  I tried to prod as to why the faux food was there — something to do with nutritional education, I imagine — but never got a clear answer.  Our consultation included not only what vaccines and medicines we would need, but how to handle a wide range of general travel health issues.  I now know that there are jellyfish in Australia that kill within three minutes of a sting; how to remove a stingray’s barb using only a tub of scalding water; that a jellyfish stinger can be removed with a razor and shaving cream; how to use iodine to sanitize my salad greens; and that I should poke a hole in the bottom of my bottles of water to avoid them being re-bottled with local water and given to unsuspecting travelers.  We also debunked some myths, learning, for example, that rabies shots are NOT given in the chest or stomach as we had always suspected (turns out, that only happened on Lassie — it’s how rabies shots were administered in the 1950s after someone had been bitten by a rabid dog). 

In the midst of the consultion, I realized that, depite the amount of preparation for this trip, there’s still so much we don’t know.  At one point, the conversation went something like this:

“How long will you be in India?”
“Uh, three weeks?  But we’re not really sure.”
“And will you be going to Iguassu Falls when you’re in Argentina?”
“Maybe.”
“For how long?”
“Uh, maybe three days?”
“How much time will there be between India and Indonesia?”
“Um, well, it depends on if we end up going to India or not.  We’re just not sure yet.”
Blank stare.
“So how many days between?”
“Fifteen?”

dscf1345.jpgWe also discussed our required and recommended vaccinations, which will be administered in a series of doses over the next four weeks.  By the time this is all over, we will be BFF with the NM Travel Health Clinic.  Our vaccinations will include:  Hepatitis A&B, yellow fever, meningitis, rabies, tetanus, polio, and the flu shot.  We will also receive oral medication for malaria and, my hands down favorite, typhoid.  

dscf1355.jpgThe nurse said, “I’m sending you home with the oral typhoid vaccine.”  ”Okay,” I’m thinking, as I look around the room, ”where is it?”  ”It’s in that box,” she says, pointing to a large shipping box.  “And don’t laugh when you get home and open it.”  I’m not sure what she means:  is a Jack-in-the Box going to pop out or something?  But when we get home, her warning is obvious.  Packed inside this gigantic box, nestled between the styrofoam walls and ice blocks, are two boxes of typhoid vaccine that I can easily hold between my thumb and pointer finger.  dscf1350.jpgWe gingerly place them between the yogurt and spaghetti sauce, happy that this journey has really begun.