There’s the way of the world, then there’s the Bhutanese way. If you’re travelling here for the first time, it will hit you as soon as you step off the plane. You’ll smell the clean mountain air, feel the sunshine, and make your way to the air terminal that looks an awful lot like a Buddhist temple.
I came here for the first time in 1994. I returned three more times in succeeding years, staying longer and longer, and in 1997 I convinced the government to let me come and teach English. I never left. As a teacher I was a bit of a disaster, but I’d found the centre of the universe.
The Bhutanese people and their innate spirituality, their humility and their raucous sense of humour are what I love most about this remarkable country. First of all, they’re not angry with anyone. If they don’t get it done in this life, then maybe the next. The majority are Buddhist, and most of all they’re kind. I should know because I married one. His name is Phurba Namgay, a fellow teacher and a painter of traditional Buddhist art. There were no detailed maps or paths for us to follow. But there were the Bhutanese, who made me feel more comfortable than I’d felt in my whole life.
The remarkable winding roads, the distinctive architecture that looks as if a Japanese pagoda has collided with a Swiss chalet, and the bright colours that belie the difficulties of living isolated in the mountains are some of the many things I love. Then there’s the sheer beauty of the natural landscape: mountains, clouds and ancient temples dot a landscape that has scarcely changed for centuries. The Himalayas in the north, west and east, and dense jungles in the south make a natural barrier that keep the Bhutanese in and the rest of the world out.