Vagabond

The constant peering during the flight from Kathmandu to Bhutan is futile; there is no sign of Everest, just clouds everywhere. As we descend, the plane verges around the surrounding mountains at such proximity that I fear its wings will scratch the slopes.

Upon exiting the plane, I lose my breath – perhaps from the lower oxygen density, but I think it’s more to do with the view. Surrounded by sloping hills, enveloped by clouds at eye level, I feel as if I have entered another, fairy-tale world and my breath stops from the serenity.

In its attempts to modernise while simultaneously keeping its traditions and culture, Bhutan has become a land of contradictions. Television and the Internet were kept away until the not-so-distant 1999; foreigners were only allowed in in the 1970s. While other countries measure their progress by gross national product (GNP), Bhutan also aims to increase its so-called ‘gross national happiness’ (GNH).

In contrast to Kathmandu’s hectic atmosphere, Bhutan’s capital Thimpu is a quiet and picturesque little town, and the only capital in the world without a single traffic light. Narrow roads wind up and down the hills, with houses scattered about them, their façades painted with plants and dragons.

In addition to the uniform architectural style, in its attempt to preserve Bhutanese tradition, the government requires that local people wear national dress at all times. But underneath the rustling, colourful, hand-woven fabrics of the women’s kira and the men’s gho, completely unexotic trainers and sandals poke out.

All over town, along the roads and in people’s backyards, hang brightly coloured prayer flags imprinted with Buddhist prayers that are supposedly carried up to the sky by the wind.

Such flags also grace the road east to Bumthang – the district considered to be Bhutan’s spiritual centre. It takes us about 12 hours to cover the 250-kilometre distance, our van screeching to a halt every time another car comes from the opposite direction on the narrow winding road, bordered by sharp rising cliffs on one side and an endless abyss on the other.

In Bumthang, during a rare Buddhist ceremony, I get blessed by Thuksay Rinpoche, a lama thought to be the reincarnation of Guru Rinpoche, who brought Buddhism to Bhutan in the 1600s. Having bowed my head and averted my gaze as a sign of respect, I have no visual recollection of the blessing, only the tactile memory of different objects touching my head.

Apart from the ceremonies and symbols, Buddhism is also apparent in people’s daily demeanour. One evening, a mot lands on our host’s sleeve but - instead of the instant swat that usually befalls insects in the West, it is carefully removed and released.

Several days later, I board the flight back to Kathmandu with a sunken heart. It leaps when, suddenly, I see Everest – glorious and sunny, peaking above the clouds. In that moment, I feel a sharp surge of happiness, surely going well beyond the GNH levels set in the Bhutanese authorities’ development plans.