Back when I was growing up in Bhutan, there was an old monk who would walk past my school in Thimphu on his way to the Dechen Monastery. Guy was a complete schizo, screaming over our lessons “aaahhhahh fuck” but people loved it bc they thought his visions were legit. (Below: Me!) 
He would scream “I have seen a vision of the Buddha, of Padmasambhāva and Yama - fuck fuck ballc*nt” - and all these other deities, whilst his cross-eyes darted all over the place. Gets the boomers on board unfortunately this crap! Why do I bring up this monk with mental illness?
Well one day he came and took a shit outside our house during an eclipse. This turd ‘suddenly’ (astroturfed) gained a reputation as auspicious and women would regularly come and start chanting mantras next to it most nights a week. And ofc, you can’t tell old women to fuck off...
It got too much bc my family were too polite and when they drew up plans for a stupa there eventually we had to move. We were of the opinion that Bhutanese society at the time was parochial and superstitious (amongst other things) - so it was really the catalyst for emmigrating.
I was like in my early 20s when stupagate happened so I’d already had my time as a bit of a playboy in the Thimphu social scene (Yeshey, Sangay, Bidhya - all total babes I got with) and whilst it was sad I wasn’t too fazed about moving on. I get nostalgic for this stuff now ofc!
That’s the short version of the story of why I left Bhutan. No other reason (that I’d tell you yet). Wandering ever since in various capacities. First place we moved to was the UK bc Tony Blair had just changed the immigration rules. That’s really when my life got interesting...
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