Finding a happy place in Bhutan

Fifty years after Bhutan opened up to travellers, we pay a visit to a nation attempting to still keep tradition, sustainability and, above all else, happiness at the centre of everything

Words & photographs George Kipouros

A procession of monks at the opening of Gangtey’s tshechu

Atmospheric Rinchengang village

Thimphu’s Great Buddha Dordenma is one of the world’s largest Buddha statues

"You will live until you are 65, and then in your next life, you will come back as a pigeon,” announced Mr Pema rather icily. As I took in my Buddhist astrological future, the low humming from the monks’ prayers in the hall next door, coupled with the loud fluttering of hundreds of prayer flags in the impending storm, only seemed to add to the grim inevitability of it all. This was certainly not the start I was expecting when visiting the self-proclaimed land of happiness, the Himalayan Kingdom of Bhutan.

I was on a quest to understand and experience this nation’s unique aura. This is a land known for its celebrated Gross National Happiness philosophy and its unconditional commitment to preserving cultural and spiritual traditions. It also often seems from the outside as if it exists in another era entirely, and I wanted to learn its secret.

My journey had started by being granted an audience with a senior monk, Mr Pema, at the 16th-century Pangri Zampa Monastery, home to Bhutan’s Royal College of Astrology, in capital Thimphu. As Mr Pema took in my vanishing smile, he tried to hit a more upbeat note.

“If your karma is good, then you will be happier and you’ll be adding many more years to your life,” he proclaimed. It was at this point that my guide, Sonam, chimed in: “By karma, he is referring to all your actions as a human,” he intoned, deep in concentration. Even though it was my life that we were unpicking, this was a deeply spiritual experience for him too, because for believers in the Mahayana form of Buddhism, which is widely practised in Bhutan, astrological readings tend to guide all major decisions and life events.

Mr Pema doesn’t sugarcoat his astrological predictions

Mr Pema doesn’t sugarcoat his astrological predictions

After a somewhat gloomy overview of my past lives – my highpoint was being a naga (half human, half cobra) – I was elated that Mr Pema was eager to wrap up our visit. The hundred or so monks of the college, together with those of all the monasteries in the valley, were busy preparing for the city’s biggest annual religious festival, the Thimphu Tshechu.
“You are blessed that you get to experience a tshechu, so make sure you use your time in Bhutan to be happy,” ordered Mr Pema as he sent me away for my first taste of Bhutan’s miniature of a capital.

There is no denying the grandeur of Thimphu’s setting, but change is afoot in the kingdom’s largest city. While the first thing that caught my eye was a skyline dominated by the imposing peaks of the Himalaya mountains – some over 4,000m high – I saw just as many construction cranes.

“Thimphu has grown dramatically over the last few years, and every time I come back there are new buildings that have popped up,” affirmed Sonam. Indeed, almost one-eighth of Bhutan’s tiny total population of 800,000 now call Thimphu’s narrow valley home. “And to think this was all rice fields just ten years ago,” he added quietly.

One thing yet to arrive in the kingdom is traffic lights. These are deemed “too impersonal,” explained Sonam, but the personal touch was certainly not helping with the current gridlock. Traffic jams are the norm here now, I discovered, as Bhutan gets ever wealthier and more and more people own cars. “Our roads just haven’t caught up yet,” Sonam told me as we sat patiently waiting.

Lush fields of rice surround the Tashichho Dzong

Lush fields of rice surround the Tashichho Dzong

The Tshechu Festival had made traffic unusually heavy. It felt like the whole country was headed to Tashichho Dzong, the city’s fort-like administrative and religious centre, for the celebrations early in the morning.

“It’s our biggest event every year; this is a major family and social occasion,” affirmed Sonam, who was dressed accordingly in his finest traditional Bhutanese clothing.

A tshechu (meaning ‘day ten’) is held in every dzongkhag (region) of Bhutan on the tenth day of a chosen month in the lunar calendar, with the particular month depending on where it takes place. Different locations choose different seasons, although spring and autumn are busiest. It is a celebration that can be traced back to the 8th and 9th centuries AD and the early days of the spread of Buddhism across the land. Most are held in honour of Guru Rinpoche, who is credited with introducing the religion to Bhutan.

The highlight of every tshechu is the highly stylised mask dance, known as cham, a performative version of oral tradition where visual storytelling is used to convey ancient values, mythology and religious teachings. This is a deeply spiritual experience for the Bhutanese and I saw many locals welcoming the performers with prayers and song.

The cham dancers, with their colourful costumes and ornamental masks, blended in with the vibrant traditional dress of the attendees. A vast tapestry of colour lay ahead of me, and it turned out to be a much grander affair than I had expected, helped by the architectural magnificence of the Tashichho Dzong serving as a backdrop.

Between the traditional clothes and the rituals, I noticed an unusual pattern among the male festival attendees. While all were wearing Bhutanese dress, a significant number wore knee-length socks with the Ralph Lauren Polo logo clearly on display.

“Here is the Western influence for you, plus a bit of status seeking,” explained Sonam.

I was among several hundred Western travellers in attendance, all keen to take in the carnival-like atmosphere. This is the busiest time of year for international visitors in Thimphu and most accommodation sells out months in advance, but this wasn’t always the case. The enigmatic kingdom only opened up to travellers in 1974; now tourism is the second-biggest earner for the economy, behind hydro-electricity exports to India. Yet Bhutan still retains a uniquely distinctive approach to welcoming the world, as I was slowly beginning to discover.

Hundreds of villagers join travellers in the courtyard of the Gangtey monastery to watch dancers perform a cham (masked dance) at the tshechu festival (George Kipouros)

Low impact, high value

Eager to understand more about Bhutan’s take on development and tourism, I met with renowned Bhutanese history scholar and former monk Karma Phuntsho for a traditional local dinner.
“The main goal in life for Bhutanese people is happiness,” began Mr Karma, explaining that “Bhutan is the only Buddhist kingdom in the world, so the principles of Buddhism guide our way of life.” He told me how economic development, the aim for much of humanity, is only a means to achieving this ultimate goal.

“But happiness,” he continued, “can be found in simple things – in anything and everywhere.”

While explaining the story of how the Gross National Happiness strategy was first coined by the fourth King of Bhutan in 1972, Mr Karma went to great length to underline that this is not just a gimmicky motto but a lived-in experience for all. “Nature and non-economic aspects of wellbeing should sit at the heart of any discussion of development,” he concluded.

I enquired about tourism, which was growing at a significant pace pre-pandemic. “Our approach to development means that we’ll never be a mass-tourism destination,” he told me. “Low impact, high value is the simple practice that we want to follow.”

The country made headlines during its post-pandemic reopening to visitors when it raised the daily ‘Sustainable Development Fee’, which it charges international tourists, to US$200 (£165). This has since fallen, but it positioned Bhutan among the most expensive destinations worldwide, and I was curious whether the aim of this was to attract only wealthy visitors.

“Sustainability and the protection of the environment are pivotal – we are still the only country on the planet that is carbon negative”

“This is about attracting visitors who really do care about a meaningful experience; visitors who will actually understand and respect our environment and way of life,” he countered. “Bhutan is a special place, and a visit here is a unique experience, not least because of our relationship with nature.”

“Sustainability and the protection of the environment are pivotal for our future – we are still the only country on the planet that is carbon negative,” continued Mr Karma. “But the real test is now. As Bhutan opens up more to the world, with its new technologies and urban lifestyles, we will see how our society and traditions evolve.”

I asked whether he felt positive about this? “Of course I am. I am Bhutanese!” he smiled.

Before leaving the urban growth of Thimphu behind, I met with Ugen Denzen, director of the Royal Textile Academy and Museum. This institution has been credited with helping invigorate the centuries-old Bhutanese expertise in weaving, a predominately female-led craft. Bhutanese textiles are some of the most treasured in the world and the museum showcases some exceptionally intricate pieces. He was eager to highlight the work of the academy and its training programmes, which range from beginner to expert levels.

“For Bhutanese, our weaving tradition is part of our national heritage; it is intrinsically linked to our identity,” he explained. He is currently working with international partners to establish the first faculty dedicated to the subject in Bhutan.

Just outside the academy building, a couple of dozen staff had gathered for a team social event, playing rounds of khuru (outdoor darts), one of the most popular sports in Bhutan. There was music, dancing and singing involved, building to a joyous scene of outdoor celebration and games. I was invited to try a round of khuru, but given the proximity of Mr Denzen’s team to the target, I thought I’d decline, sparing him the need for an additional round of personnel recruitment.

Thimphu’s Tashichho Dzong is today the seat of the Druk Desi, the head of Bhutan’s civil government, but it was not the original dzong here – that was located higher up the valley and was destroyed by fire in 1771 (George Kipouros)

Thimphu’s tshechu is one of the biggest festivals in Bhutan, with many locals travelling from nearby regions just to attend its celebrations

A weaver at the Gagyel Lhundrup Weaving Centre in Thimphu

The Mo Chhu (Female River) winds through the valley beneath the town of Punakha

Female singers at the Gangtey tshechu

This wounded crane was being cared for at the Black-Necked Crane Information Centre in Phobjikha valley

Sangay Dema never stops smiling

Countryside of Wonders

My next stop was a good four-hour drive from Thimphu, with the road trip proving an unexpected highlight. Despite travelling just 130km, the country’s unique topography of Himalayan peaks jostling for space results in a network of impossibly winding roads and a maximum speed of 40kph. Still, I could have enjoyed it at even half the speed, as the mountainous wilderness had me constantly glued to the windows.

The scenery was greener and lusher than anything I’d seen in North America’s Rockies or the European Alps, and vastly different to the arid plateau of Himalayan Tibet. In Bhutan, the tree line reaches up to 4,500m, and over 72% of the country is covered in protected forests. As we drove on, the evergreen flora felt like a competition between the giant fir trees and the towering Himalayan blue pines.

When making a short leg-stretching stop at Dochula Pass, we were lucky to glimpse the peak of the highest mountain in Bhutan, Gangkhar Puensum (7,570m). It also claims the title of the highest unclimbed summit in the world, as no one ever managed to successfully reach the top before mountaineering was banned in Bhutan in 2003.

“Our towering mountains are sacred; they are home to gods, spirits and demons, so they can only be enjoyed from a distance,” explained Sonam.

At the end of our drive lay Gangtey, a small yet picturesque village atop a lone hill at an elevation of 3,200m, with vistas stretching across the wide Phobjikha valley. Its namesake monastery dates back to the 16th century and it is a frequent stop on itineraries because it is adorned with the finest woodcarvings in Bhutan. I was lucky to be visiting during the town’s annual tshechu, joining hundreds of villagers from across the valley.

I managed to catch the first dance sequence of the celebration, Peling Gingsum, a striking tantric spectacle with a strong tempo. The four phases of the dance narrated a tumultuous story of fighting and the subduing of menacing demons, completed by a victorious ending where virtue and kindness prevailed. This was no less spectacular a performance than any I had caught in Thimphu, yet it felt much more
intimate and spiritual.

There was also singing from local women. “Every home in the valley contributes a female volunteer to take part in the festivities,” Sonam told me. They were all wearing incredibly colourful, ornate dresses, which was strikingly evident when they stood in a row for their performance. Seen from a distance, I thought the group resembled a carpet of Himalayan butterflies about to spread their wings.

Mentally recharged, we set off on the 4km Gangtey Phobji nature trail, taking in the namesake Ramsar site, temporary home to the endangered black-necked crane. Multiple viewpoints revealed striking panoramas across the valley, and I could see why the cranes had chosen this location as a key stop on their annual migratory journey.

I was too early to catch a sighting – the cranes usually arrive from Tibet by mid-October and leave by the end of February. Sonam explained that their coming is considered a good omen by locals, and the characteristic echo of their calls is a source of spiritual happiness. Unsurprisingly, I learnt that Bhutan is a birdwatcher’s paradise, with over 745 bird species sighted across its valleys, many found only here.

Our hike concluded with a visit to a local farmhouse, where we were welcomed by 70-year-old Sangay Dema. She explained that the building had been in her family for over 240 years and had changed little since it was built. She now welcomes guests from across the world, all of them eager to get a glimpse of Bhutanese village life.

She never stopped smiling as we talked, and I asked her for the secret of her big smile. “Life is too short, and you don’t know when you will die, so you have to be happy all the time,” she declared. “Be satisfied with what you have; this means you will always be happy.” After a rich serving of Bhutanese butter tea, we were sent away with some of her homemade cheese strings. Our happiness was guaranteed.

“In Bhutan, the tree line reaches up to 4,500m, and over 72% of the country is covered in protected forests”

Leaving Phobjikha valley behind, we paid a visit to one of the country’s shiniest new attractions, the Wangdue Phodrang Dzong. The original dzong (fortified monastery) was built here in 1638 but had burned down during restoration work in 2012. Thankfully, most of its historical relics had been moved off-site but the building was largely destroyed by the fire. It only fully reopened in 2022.

I had a hard time believing this was a reconstruction; the craftsmanship and restoration work was outstanding.

“In Bhutan, we deeply care for and respect our cultural heritage,” Sonam told me as we walked around its fortified walls. “Even if something burns down or an earthquake tries to take it away, we will do everything we can to bring it back, no matter what the cost.”

Just across the river from Wangdue Phodrang, we reached Rinchengang, a characterful village dating back to the 17th century. Local legend has it that the original settlers here were builders from India, who had arrived to erect the dzong opposite. This felt like a true time capsule and a return to a simpler way of life. Although electricity and plumbing had recently made their way to the village, there were no tourist shops, cafés or restaurants. Despite its beauty, this was not a tourist attraction but a living, working village of farmers, weavers and craftsmen.

Yet signs of rapid urbanisation are never far away in modern-day Bhutan. Just a few kilometres down the road, we passed by the new town of Bajo, where I spied blocks of flats built so densely next to each other that they almost resembled a single unit. There was no attempt to recreate the wide-open spaces and beautifully crafted stonework family homes that I had seen earlier at Rinchengang village.

The palace of great happiness

My next stop marked a return to the wide-open vistas that had now become familiar to me, as we headed to Punakha, the first capital of Bhutan. It was pleasantly warm, thanks to the low elevation of 1,300m, and it had an almost subtropical feel due to the mighty Pho Chhu (Male River) and Mo Chhu (Female River) waterways running across the valley.

Due to its position at the convergence of these two rivers, Punakha’s old town has been largely destroyed by multiple floods – the last major one in 1998 – but its dzong managed to miraculously survive. The Bhutanese were grateful for this twist of fate, as this is not only the most majestic complex in all of Bhutan, but also the most important spiritually.

The dzong’s full name is Pungthang Dewa chhenbi Phodrang, loosely translated as ‘The Palace of Great Happiness’, and it was first established in 1637 by Ngawang Namgyal. Its design has strong influences from Tibetan architecture, yet it feels distinctively Bhutanese. Multiple courtyards are enveloped by formidable buildings ranging between four and seven storeys, all supported by immense walls. Throughout the visit my attention was drawn to its towering windows with ornate and colourful wooden decorations.

As with every dzong, the country’s former ‘dual system’ of government (religion and state) is reflected in the design: the spiritual leader and the administrative leader both have their own dedicated quarters. This was the seat of the Bhutanese government until 1955, after which it moved to Thimphu; however, like all dzongs, its primary purpose was to act as protection against Tibetan invasion, a function it successfully fulfilled on multiple occasions.

It is the 17th-century monk’s assembly hall, known as the kunrey, that stands out as the complex’s most impressive feature. I would dare say that its interior is one of the most captivating of any Buddhist temple on Earth. At five storeys high, it is supported by 68 gilded pillars and decorated with magnificent murals and exquisite woodwork. A giant Present Buddha, made of clay and gold, watches over the kunrey and his story is narrated in the hundreds of scenes painted across the hall.

Such is the importance of the kunrey that it has served as the coronation and wedding venues for all Bhutanese royalty, including the current Dragon King of Bhutan, Jigme Khesar Namgyel Wangchuck.

“It is called the happy fortress because it is associated with many happy outcomes for the country,” explained Sonam with a smile of conviction.

Despite the dzong’s world-class artistic features and its overall importance for the Bhutanese people and the broader region’s history, I was astonished to learn that this is still not a UNESCO World Heritage site. Disappointingly, the UN agency has yet to inscribe any of Bhutan’s treasures in its evidently highly politicised list.

The Punakha Dzong was only the second dzong to be built in Bhutan

Games of the Future

The last stop on my itinerary was a return to where I first began, Paro, the valley that hosts the country’s only international airport. Arriving early on a Sunday morning, we stopped by a traditional archery game, which was taking place by the side of the highway. Archery is the national sport of Bhutan, and much like my experience with khuru in Thimphu, I learnt that games are festive events, accompanied by singing, dancing and copious amounts of local beer.

In that context, I was shocked to see teams standing next to the targets. “Don’t you get accidents?” I asked Kinley, one of the local men enjoying the game with a Druk lager in hand.
“Don’t worry; we’re very good. We mostly hit the target,” he laughed, his voice betraying a distinct Australian twang that I duly enquired about.

Archery (or da) is the national sport of Bhutan – targets are placed between 100m and 145m from the archer, and matches take place between two teams

Archery (or da) is the national sport of Bhutan – targets are placed between 100m and 145m from the archer, and matches take place between two teams

“I moved to Australia for my studies and spent time working there,” he told me. Bhutan has seen plenty of its young move abroad, heading mainly to Australia and Canada. “You could say we have our own version of a brain drain happening in the country,” remarked Kinley stoically. I pressed further, asking how you can have a Kingdom of Happiness when its young people want to leave?

“With globalisation, people seek opportunities everywhere, and the same thing happens here. Beyond tourism, there are not that many great jobs for us young people. But the King and our government are actively trying to change that, and that’s why I am back here too!” Kinley concluded with an upbeat tone before rushing back to take his shot.

A breathtaking spectacle

Most first-timers in Bhutan finish with a climb up to the country’s most famous sight, the Taktshang monastery (or Tiger’s Nest), and my experience was no different. Perched perilously on a cliff 800m above the Paro valley, it is undoubtedly the most photogenic attraction in the country, not to mention a marvel of human ingenuity that dates back to the 17th century. It seemed to me a glorious Buddhist version of Greece’s suspended monasteries in Meteora.

Yet, unlike its Greek equivalent, where a modern road takes you right up to the buildings, visitors need to embark on an arduous two-hour (or longer, depending on one’s fitness level) hike from the bottom of Paro valley, eventually reaching an elevation of about 3,000m. The overall experience leaves one breathless, literally and metaphorically.

Paro’s Taktshang (Tiger’s Nest) monastery perches on a cliffside 800m above the valley floor

This was perhaps the only site in Bhutan – Thimphu’s tshechu aside – where I witnessed a significant number of visitors. “It is very busy here, always,” remarked Sonam, yet to me it felt quiet when compared with some of the world’s equally iconic sites. Bhutan is expected to receive just under 90,000 visitors this year – less than Antarctica – and yet for some in the country, even this number is far too many.

Sonam had not travelled outside of Bhutan before, so I told him of my experiences visiting some of the most famous attractions in Europe and Asia, and having to share them with thousands, sometimes tens of thousands, of visitors. He gave a thoughtful pause before replying.

“As you should know by now, Bhutan likes doing things in a different way. We like telling our story – the story of the Land of the Thunder Dragon – in our own terms. So, it’s not that we don’t want that many visitors; it’s that we want those who arrive to appreciate our country in the right way. We want them to be happy when visiting us, and we want our people to be happy with them visiting,” he concluded.

As we departed the monastery, a young monk stopped to give me his blessing, declaring: “May you live a full and happy life, sir.” I replied with the feedback from my first encounter with a monk in Thimphu, recounting my Buddhist astrological destiny that ordained I would only make it to 65 before being reborn as a pigeon. “For us Bhutanese, it doesn’t matter how long you live as long as you are happy for the time you’re living,” he smiled back, then waved me off down the valley. As I began the long walk, I couldn’t help but grin at the thought of how useful my pigeon wings would have been right now. Maybe Mr Karma was right: it is the little things that bring happiness.

About the trip

The author’s ground travel was organised by specialist tour operator Transindus, which offers a 12-day ‘Highlights of Bhutan’ trip, including international flights from the UK and the necessary additional overnights in India. Support was also provided by the Department of Tourism, Bhutan.

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