It has been said that a trip to Bhutan can give you a bad case of “Shangri-La”, an affliction you never quite shake. In a world where you can virtually count the last truly untouched places on one hand, that eternal yearning for a mystical, earthly paradise isolated from the outside world (as immortalised in James Hilton’s novel Lost Horizon) pretty much describes the other-worldly mountain kingdom of Bhutan.
Nestled between China and India at the eastern end of the Himalayas, this independent country has managed to remain remote and virtually unscathed by modernity and political turmoil well into the millennium.
But then foreigners have only been allowed to visit in the last 30 years or so, with TV and the internet arriving in 1999, followed by cellphones in 2003 and luxury tourism in 2004.
It was the visionary fourth king of Bhutan, Jigme Singye Wang-chuck, who implemented the country’s controlled and sustainable tourism model that allows a limited number of annual visitors to visit the mountain kingdom. Today only the very committed (and largely affluent) get to visit, due in no small part to the fact that you cannot simply buy a flight and arrive in Bhutan sans accommodation or a tour guide – the entire trip has to be arranged with an ABTA operator.
Guests pay $200 (R1 445) a day for accommodation in standard (not luxury) hotels, including meals, transportation, guides and monastery permits. There’s also only one airline that flies into Bhutan, the national carrier Druk Air, which operates a limited number of flights into one town, Paro. The result is a “high value, low impact” brand of tourism that is sustainable and ensures the protection of Bhutan’s environment and culture.
As the last remaining Buddhist state in the region, Bhutan is something of an anomaly – the neighbouring Buddhist kingdoms of Sikkim and Tibet have long been incorporated into India and China respectively. It is to Bhutan’s credit that it has managed to turn its vulnerable landlocked position on its head, forging good relationships with India and China. And if all this sounds too good to be true, it gets better… Bhutan is also the only place in the world where “gross national happiness” (GNH) is measured over gross national product. So the onus is on government to create a “happy” environment by way of sustainable development, preservation of culture, conservation of the environment and good governance. And they’re getting it right. What’s less obvious but much more strategic is that by making GNH rather than military or economic power a national objective, they’ve averted becoming a pawn between the two Asian powers.
The moment we drive through the arched gateway of Phuntsoling, the border town between India and Bhutan, there’s a tangible difference. Not only is Phuntsoling less frenetic than the Indian towns we’ve been passing through on our six-hour drive, but it’s infinitely cleaner too. And almost everyone seems to be wearing a dress! From the local Bhutanese men in their traditional tartan ghos (best described as a cross between a kilt and a kimono) worn with Dickensian long socks and brogues to the colourful floor-length women’s kira (a kimono-like dress) to the Buddhist monks in their saffron robes.
After a restful night at the comfy and superclean Hotel Lakhi – where we sample the hotel’s restaurant and spa – we leave Phuntsoling to begin our long-awaited but whirlwind four-night adventure into Druk Yul, the Land of the Thunder Dragon, a trip I have plotted, planned and dreamt of for years.
But not before an immigration official drily warns us: “Now is a good time to witness nature’s fury” With recent global evidence of nature’s fury in mind, we surrender ourselves to our driver and Bhutan’s single highway, a narrow serpentine road that appears to have been hacked haphazardly into the side of the mountain. With an average of 20 twists and turns a kilometre and a constant delay caused by roadworks, travel here is slow but never boring, thanks to a landscape that delivers one dramatic spectacle after another.
Bhutan’s ecological landscape is a vast gene pool of biodiversity and plant life, with different species of flowers, plants and medicinal herbs found in every altitudinal zone. Giant ferns cascade down the slopes, while wild orchids and vines shelter under dense canopies of tropical jungle. As we climb higher, sometimes as much as 4 000 metres above sea level, temperatures drop and we are trapped in billowing clouds of mist that place us somewhere between earth and sky. We navigate yet another corner and catch sight of a wooded hill laced with ribbons of colourful prayer flags before descending into a valley dotted with cherry and apple blossom, magnolia, wild roses and countless rhododendrons.
Although the town of Paro is home to the country’s only airport, there’s nothing urban about it. At an altitude of 2 200 metres, it’s in a bucolic setting with local farmhouses in the traditional Bhutanese architectural style of white-plastered walls and timbered beams set picturesquely into the landscape.
As a group of boys herds pigs into a nearby field, we learn that the marijuana that grows wild here is used not for recreational purposes but to fatten up pigs because it gives them the ferocious munchies. And presumably makes them terribly happy. Yet another victory for GNH.
We check into Uma Paro (from R2 400; www.umaparo.com), a magnificent hillside retreat owned by the Como hotel group. Built in traditional style with trademark Bhutanese arched windows and a pitched slate roof held down by giant stones, the boutique hotel is incredible. All rooms are kitted out with DVD players, minibars and in-room yoga mats, while some suites have larger bathrooms and separate lounge, dining and study areas.
The superb food references Bhutanese, Indian and Western dishes; we try fresh ginger juice followed by salt and pepper crusted tofu served with stir-fried vegetables and Bhutanese red rice. And to follow, just because we can, buckwheat pancakes with Bumthang honey, lime and maple syrup.
Then we’re off to visit the majestic Paro Dzong, an imposing fortress and monastery dominating a pine-forested hillside in the town. The dzongs are traditionally the centres of government and religion in each district of the kingdom and are home to centuries-old priceless treasures and works of art.
Buddhism permeates every aspect of society in Bhutan. Red-robed monks preside over religious ceremonies here, and in every monastery you’ll be humbled by the sight of old and young bent over prayer wheels or circumnavigating a chorten (a stone structure that contains a Buddhist relic) and chanting the Buddhist mantra Om mani padme hum (Hail to the jewel in the lotus). The devout repetition of this prayer is believed to bring one closer to a desired outcome. And it is believed that with each turn of the prayer wheel, merit is accumulated. Each time the mantra is repeated, it is added to the many prayers out there, thereby increasing the likelihood of enlightenment of all beings.
I spend ages at the Paro museum, where a showcase of Bhutan’s world-renowned philatelic history is on display. Bhutan has elevated postage stamps to an art form since the issue of its first stamp in 1962. Here you’ll see stamps engraved on steel, screen-printed on silk with references to everything from Bhutan’s bird life, the royal family, popular culture and even cartoon characters. Some reportedly even play back the national anthem on a turntable.
We return to Uma Paro late in the afternoon and decide to take advantage of the hotel’s complimentary yoga class in a beautiful wooden studio, followed by a massage in the Ayurvedic spa. Again, we could spend days alternating between yoga classes and the steam room, indoor pool, and Bhutanese hot stone bathhouse set into the forest, offering bath therapies, facials and massages. Alas, we’re on a tight schedule and are only good for dinner and bed if we’re to make our 5am call the next day to climb to Taktshang Goemba.
Fortified by an early-morning rosewater lassi, we begin our ascent up the steep cliff face that leads to the country’s most famous monastery, the Tiger’s Nest. Legend has it that the Buddha Rinpoche fled Tibet on the back of a tigress in the 8th century and came to Paro to meditate in a cave. After three months he assumed the form of Dorje Drolo, the Terrifying Thunderbolt, and was able to overcome the Eight Evil Spirits who had hindered the spread of Buddhism in Bhutan. In a feat of engineering, the monastery buildings were built some 3 120 metres above sea level on a precipitous cliff face, virtually into a vertical rock face. As part of their dedication to their religion, monks must spend three years, three months and three weeks meditating here.
It might have taken as long for us to ascend were it not for the sight of what lay ahead and the sound of the monks chanting their daily prayers, willing us on (aching calves and all) to arrive in just under three hours.
To climb to such lofty heights surrounded by the snow-capped Himalayas in every direction is one of the most deeply meditative and fulfilling experiences I have yet undertaken. The atmosphere of calm |introspection and more beauty than the eye can possibly bear that greets us makes Taktshang Goemba one of the most spiritual places I’ve visited.
As the morning sun casts a flush of pink light on the foothills of the Himalayas, my world of materialism and fashionable stress seems both shameful and hilariously trivial. When we descend to make our way onwards to Thimpu, we comment on how the beauty of such a pristine environment coupled with the innate calmness of Bhutan’s “naturally shy and peace-loving” people makes you want to be a better person.
Until 2008, the only luxury hotels allowed in Bhutan were exclusive retreats in the countryside. But the capital city of Thimpu that sits at an altitude of 2 300 metres is now home to the five-star Taj Tashi (from R3 400; www.tajhotels.com), our|hotel for the night. This imposing building dominates the skyline in a low-rise city where development has resulted in a slightly unimaginative urban spread.
Designed to echo the mighty structure of Bhutan’s dzongs, the Taj Tashi has 66 bedrooms beautifully furnished in a mix of traditional and contemporary decor. There’s also a restaurant serving Bhutanese cuisine, a tea lounge and bar, and an indoor pool and spa.
My only criticism is that, despite the intricate murals that draw on traditional emblems in all the public areas and the traveller’s welcome we receive from a monk, it feels like any other Western hotel I’ve ever stayed in and lacks the cultural gravitas and authenticity of the country retreats we’ve just left. But it is a great base for exploring the town and the walks and sights that exist just beyond it. There are coffee shops and internet cafés within walking distance, along with a|superb craft centre and a weekend market that runs from Friday night until Sunday.
Thimpu is also home to Tashichho Dzong, the seat of the country’s progressive government and chambers for the Chief Abbot of Bhutan. It is here, in the midst of the country’s most developed town, that I’m reminded once more how the preservation of Bhutan’s medieval culture coupled with the far-sighted vision of its contemporary leaders has resulted in a show of good governance that is unique in the modern world.
The transition from an absolute monarchy to a democracy was set in motion when the fourth king voluntarily abdicated in 2006 in favour of his Oxford-educated son, Jigme Khesar Namgyel Wangchuck. This paved the way for elections in 2008 and a constitutional monarchy in which the fifth king is accountable for his vision of “sustainable global development” with “mindful consumption”. Beloved by his people, the 31-year-old king reportedly travels widely throughout the country on foot or bicycle to commune with his 700 000 subjects.
As luck would have it, our visit coincides with the Lord Buddha’s birthday and a national public holiday, so we join thousands of locals as they make their way to Tashichho Dzong to say prayers and light butter lamps. It’s a visual feast, with the colourful traditional clothing of|locals set against the backdrop of this beautiful monastery. Dignitaries and lamas gaze down from the dzong’s high verandas while an orchestra of monks armed with gongs, cymbals and horns sits to one side. But we’re on the move again, this time to our last stop, the capital of Punakha.
This warm fertile valley at the junction of the two main rivers of Bhutan, Mo Chu (female) and Pho Chu (male), is just 1 250 metres above sea level with a subtropical climate and fame as a rice-growing village. It’s also home to the country’s oldest dzong, where the first and second kings were inaugurated. We’re staying at the impressive Amankora Punakha (from R9 300; www.amanresorts.com), a traditional Bhutanese farmhouse built by a former Chief Abbot of Bhutan. Here your main access is over the Mo Chu via a suspension bridge adorned with prayer flags.
We’re seduced from the start by the charm of the old farmhouse and our pomegranate-and-mint arrival drinks. That is until we’re shown to our spacious, wood-panelled suites located in modern rammed-earth dwellings behind the old farmhouse. There’s also a first-floor library and living room with a great selection of books and a traditional altar room for meditation and prayer plus a|spa that offers reiki and other|Asian-inspired treatments.
As the first foreign hotel group allowed to build in Bhutan, Aman Resorts has developed an excellent circuit of five nature-linked lodges across the country that allows guests to trek and camp between them. There are a number of treks to choose from, and you’ll carry nothing more than your daypack as horses and yaks carry all provisions and guests belongings. With a host of day treks from the lodge, there is a lot more to do here, such as inner-tubing, white-water rafting, mountain biking and archery lessons. And the food is excellent.
As we slope off happily to our luxurious beds, we’re escorted by two of the most massive bullfrogs I’ve ever laid eyes on and I can’t help but wonder whether this holds some significance. It’s only later that I learn that in Buddhism, frogs are living reminders of rain and fertility, and represent transformation and rebirth.
This tiny Himalayan kingdom has in a few short days taught us more than we’d ever thought possible. Most notably that with a commitment to that most basic of principles, integrity, you’re guaranteed your quotient of happiness.. - National Geographic Traveller