Bhutan Is

So close to heaven, between the earth and the sky, Bhutan is a Himalayan country of one million people seen as the only remaining pure Buddhist monarchy. Reigned by a youthful and progressive King who espouses environment and education as the two tenets of his tenure, the country straddles its traditional roots and its hopeful future. Bhutan is about the size of Switzerland but its mountains are higher, its valleys more beautiful, its ecosystem more pristine. But as a destination, it has been overlooked. Partly to blame is its restrictive entry requirements, but that cannot explain its almost total obscurity. Just how many educated and worldly people have I met who had no idea where Bhutan is, let alone that it is a country in its own right? Its size, religion, location, climate, history, resources and wonders are virtually unknown to all; in that may lie its greatest appeal. Whilst activists sound off on the Free Tibet movement, whilst yoga classes gain in popularity in post-modern hippie/yuppie enclaves, whilst the Dalai Lama gives commencement speeches at Oxford and Yale, whilst Jon Krakauer reminisces in Kathmandu about his Everest ascent, Bhutan just goes on, unnoticed, like the faintingly beautiful little sister who’s not quite yet of the marrying age.

Its cultural identity is not far off from Tibet, Nepal, and the Indian Himalaya. Central to all is Tantric Buddhism and in particular, Guru Rimpoche, the Second Buddha, who is revered as the bringer of the enlightened way of life to all these parts. Other apparent similarities flow from Buddhism. Prayer flags are everywhere. Dzongs or fortresses seem to float within the clouds over verdant hilltops. In the North, the Himalayan giants preside in Bhutan just as majestically as they do in Tibet or Sikkim. Nonetheless, differences do exist between Bhutan and its neighbours. Marvellous nuances such as the unique shape of all the windows in the country. The characteristic national dress differs significantly from an Indian saree or a Kazakh wrap. The gho and kera lend an aristocratic air to everyone who wears it, whether it be a farmer, a schoolgirl, or a red-bearded visitor. The festivals are called tsechus, the largest being in Paro in March, when I visited, and in Thimphu in September. Women wear their hair short and while bashful, they are not segregated or unequal in social stature. The most difficult trek on the planet is said to be the Snowman Trek, lasting thirty-one days along ridges and through virgin snowfields. There is only one airport and one approved land-border crossing. Make sure you get your visa approved in advance because there’s virtually no way to travel in Bhutan without a predetermined tour-operated itinerary which will cost you the set price of $200 a day, all-inclusive. Bring a little extra cash in Indian rupees to which the Ngultrum, my favourite currency name, is pegged. And try to learn how to say ‘guzu zambo la’, and other simple phrases in Dzongka. This is what makes Bhutan special; but to reduce the subtle differences to things that can be catalogued in a travel brochure or variations in hairstyles and architecture would be missing the point. Simply put, Bhutan’s culture is fundamentally undiluted.

For the wildlife watcher and adventure traveller, the splendours of this country are well worth the sometimes painfully long journey. To see a barking deer, does one need to travel through L.A., Hong Kong, Bangkok, Kathmandu, and Paro for four days, to get to a hill in Wangde where the deer bark? Obviously not. But when you take the time to appreciate how remote the particular hill you are sitting on really is, it makes you tremble. Sure, hundreds of intrepid Bhutanese have crisscrossed these mountains for centuries but has anyone from the outside ever seen this particular combination of natural wonders? How many horticulturists have seen a blue poppy, their coelacanth? Why is this trek not in any guidebook? Is this the first time that this slope has ever been imprinted by snowshoes? And maybe I’ll be the first to see the elusive yeti, with his red face and white fur and feet turned backwards. Who knows? Challenges abound. The world's largest unscaled mountain is in Bhutan. Jomolhari, sits sacredly amidst the greatest snowcaps of the region as one of the most beautiful and revered. The great Bengal tiger graces its southern jungles. The lyrically-named elderflowers colour its alpine landscapes. The great snow leopard hunts its snow-covered slopes. If you embark on travel expecting to see a particular animal or scene, then go on safari where radio-controlled four-by-fours will whisk you towards a den of lions sleeping under a tree, courtesy of Disney. If you can let go of your expectations and just let the unpredictable force of nature stochastically imprint moments on your memory engrammes, then you will be rewarded with a never-to-be-repeated series of experiences that cannot be photocopied, summarized, or shared digitally over the Internet.

The great secret of the natural beauty of Bhutan is that it is almost totally untouched. But how much longer can it remain this way with Internet cafes popping up around Thimphu? In a small shop in a tiny town, I stepped in for a warming cup of coffee and turned to see a row of six monks in their bright orange robes looking up towards me. Rather than being fascinated with the sight of a North Face-clad Westerner, I realized their eyes were fixed on the television beside me, enthralled were they by the lamenting Macy Gray video playing on MTV Asia.

The people are gracious Asian hosts and since visitors are so infrequent (6000 per year), they are treated like guests, greeted with warm welcomes, mirth, and pleasant curiosity. Influenced by neighbours India and Tibet, the cultural balance of Bhutan's individual identity is as precarious as its environment. Archery, the ancestral sport of the people, is being transplanted by basketball, not surprising since it is the King’s favourite sport. The everyday village life is simple and glorious. When you delete the incessant need that we create for ourselves in the West, you are reduced to the essential, essentially happy life of the people of Bhutan. Living in unheated houses, tending fields, ambling in townsquares, walking over mountains, these are the simple pleasures of a society in harmony, if you can forgive this trite but apt metaphor. In the many days that our group took to cross the country and return, we were accompanied by guides from Etho Metho to whom we all are forever in debt. Insight into one’s home country is one thing, but genuine friendship and subtly-given life advice was what made these guides special. In telling stories of coming of age, family life, unexpected hospitality, night-hunting, ancestral history, trekking, and love, our guides showed us how a life rooted in benevolence and selflessness was actually the most rewarding. Effortlessly, they had achieved a perfect balance. While some label it as a Shangri-La, or a living Buddhist Himalayan national park, it is simply Bhutan, an idyllic place where life can be enjoyed surrounded by earthly beauty.

What did I learn from its people and their philosophy? Their laid-back approach to life is disarming. Keep your face to the sunshine and you cannot see the shadows. They live for the moment, in the here and now. They have no goals to become slave to. Even enlightenment, nirvana, is a Path. It is so much greater than anything you can buy, see, touch, read, own, rent, love, or dream. Finding one's true path while striking a balance. Thinking about my life, I am brought back to what I left behind. San Francisco. Sun. The leather chair. The rollerblades. The tangerine couch. The things. Do I need them? Do I want them anymore? Does my new sense of losing myself in everything I do give new or no meaning to these old wants? Perhaps my old life has no purpose if not to find real moments like those in Bhutan. It's like a muscle, traveling. Without the fresh perspective of a new place, a new voice, the imagination atrophies, one's sense for life crumples.

Lessons brought home are like sand or like air in your luggage. If you’re not careful, when you open up your bag, the magic of being away can float away like air, being diluted so that its infinitesimal traces have no lasting effect on your life. But if you can bring yourself back into the moments, the experiences are so-called sand; no matter how hard you try, you’ll never get it all out of your bag. These reminders of life’s larger purpose are easily applied to everyday Western life. Stop and be conscious of the simple things that you do without thinking. Breathe in deeply feeling the depth and full capacity of your lungs. Close your eyes and focus on the sound of one man singing amidst a crowded church choir. Be awake. Be selfless in your career, giving of yourself, your time, and your experience when it is the least expected. Make giving effortless. Witness beauty and love effortlessly and selflessly. Take the everyday adversities of life in stride, whether it is traffic or financial worry, because the Buddha inside all of us can remain unperturbed. A famous Buddhist was asked what is the meaning of life. Deceptively simplistically, he said “to be happy and to make others happy.” I can certainly try.

When I left Bhutan, I wanted to put it all in my pocket and save it for later. The wondrous smiles seen at the festival. The schoolgirls in their keras walking through green terraced fields. The chulpa (obelisk) sitting quietly on the hill. The intricate detail of the woodwork of the Dzong. The empty tsechu courtyard transformed back to its patient state like the grounds at Wimbledon, waiting for next year. The old man with his walking stick and a bushel-full of kindling, peering at me through my window. The streams gurgling, fresh from their slumber atop Himalayan snowpeaks. A picture of the King listening to a small boy. A yak careening through thick brush.   A mask of a manifestation of Guru Rimpoche. A thongrel (60-foot silk tapestry) being hoisted by eight ropes and forty-two monks, at three a.m. A river snaking through a majestic valley. A collection of shoes and sandals outside a temple. An auto repair shop just outside town. A three-day hike to a remote monastery at 13,000 feet. A clandestine disco called Club 2000 teeming with young Bhutanese, hopping to Hindi dance music. A view of Everest from the plane.

Fifteen days in Bhutan won't bring you to nirvana, but maybe they'll put you on the right path.

Zia Zaman