Guest: International Relations

Hi there! Lundy decided to break up your regular programming and bring in... a guest-blogger! Ta-dah! My name is Natalie and I live in Bhutan. If you want to know anymore, then all you've gotta do is keep reading.

I am not an attractive woman.

At least, that's what the producers behind shows like Gossip Girl or 90210 would have you believe. I am also not a stupid woman, and I know (now) that there's absolutely nothing wrong with my appearance. But the fact remains that in mainstream Western society a woman who is 6' tall, pale as a ghost, more than a little chubby, and isn't terribly invested in dressing or acting like a girl from either of the aforementioned shows is not going to be fighting off guys at the local bar on Saturday night. I'm not lonely, and I'm not telling you this to get your pity; I don't need it. I'm really not interested in 96% of the men that usually hang around in bars so this works out for me. I'm not terribly excited by guys who listen to Top 40 and shop at Abercrombie & Fitch. The point I'm trying to drive home to you is that I have never really been hit on by normal, everyday men. At least, not like other women seem to be. My girlfriends consistently tell stories of men using cheesy pickup lines on them, or a cute guy they met at karaoke, et cetera, et cetera. I got used to this being something that just happened to other women, not me, and was fine with it. In truth dealing with constantly/semi-constantly getting hit on often seemed as much a nuisance as anything else. Fighting off strange men was just not a part of my life.

That is, until I moved to Bhutan.

For those of you not in the know, Bhutan is a small country on the eastern end of the Himalayan mountains, sandwiched between Tibet and northern India. Until recent years, Bhutan has remained relatively untouched by "modern" influences, though of course that is slowly changing, and is more evident in certain places in the country than others. Bhutan is considered a remote country in general, and I live in a remote part of Bhutan.

The town where I live is a three-day drive from the capital, and it's considered a pretty big deal that we have a bank AND a hospital. When I say I'm the only white person in town, I'm not exaggerating. I'm literally the only white person in town. Not only that, but I'm actually the first white person that a lot of people here have ever seen in their LIVES, let alone gotten to know. The only other foreigners here are Indians, and they're not exciting to the locals, since we're actually only a few hours away from the Indian border. For the first time in my life, I'm exotic. I tend to generate a fair amount of interest, even after having been here for eight months. I guess I'm a mystery, especially to people who don't speak English and therefore can't really chat with me. Small children stare at me and giggle nervously, old grandmothers smile and nod, and people who are confident with their English will often come strike up a conversation with me. All of these things I don't mind. It would have been pretty silly to move to the other side of the planet if I didn't want to talk to people who were curious about me.

So whether it's the fact that I fit some sort of beauty ideal here (pale skin is considered very attractive), or because of my novelty, or some combination of the two, I seem to have gotten the attention of the local men. Because I live in a small town in a culture that doesn't place a lot of importance on privacy, not only does everyone know there's a Canadian in town, they also know she's not married. At the best of times this makes it easier to make friends, and I have actually met some nice guys. I should say that Bhutan is pretty conservative in a lot of ways, especially when it comes to dating and relationships. So, while dating happens, it doesn't happen in public. You don't see men and women holding hands. You hardly see them talk to each other at all, unless they're already married, related, or one of them is working in a shop.

So, what I get are phone calls, and they usually go something like this: "Hi, you don't know me, but I saw you in the market and I like foreigners, let's be friends." I've gotten almost this exact line from about five different men. The first time someone said this to me I was pretty agreeable; why not? New friends are nice. I've since learned, the hard way, that this is more or less the Bhutanese equivalent of "Those pants look great on you but they'd look even better on my floor."

One notable example of this was Tenzin (not his real name). One night before dinner I get a phone call. Unknown number. I answer. I've never met this guy, but apparently he saw me when I visited his school two weeks previous and, surprise, he wants to be friends. I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt and we continue to have small talk. Yes, I like it here in Bhutan, yes I like the food, so on and so forth. Eventually Tenzin reveals that as a sign of our friendship we should meet. Alright, sure, when I have time. He lives a few hours away so it would have to be a weekend. Then he says we can get a hotel room together. Uh-oh. I quickly realize this is not going in the direction I thought it was. I try and backpedal without being rude. He says, "I think you are much taller than me." "I am pretty tall," I say. "How tall are you?" "Six feet. How tall are you?" "Oh, I am much shorter than you," he says, "I am five foot three." "Oh, yeah, I guess I'm a lot taller than you." "It's okay," he says, "I will bring a ladder and I will climb you." "......"

At this point, I didn't know whether to laugh or scream or some combination of the two so I just kind of sputtered and came up with something like "Uh...myfriendiscallingmefordinnerIhavetogonowbye" and never answered any of his calls again.

Dating in a foreign country is definitely an experience, and can be tricky at times when you don't have anyone to explain to you what certain expectations or norms are. Everything I've learned about Bhutanese men has been by trial and error, and boy has there been a fair bit of error. But that is a story (stories) for another time.