A DIVINE TIME IN THE KINGDOM

Isolated among the peaks of the Himalayas, Bhutan is careful to keep
centuries-old Buddhist traditions thriving as it lets the modern world in

Mary Altier, Los Angeles Times, March 13, 2005

Early in my trip to this tiny eastern Himalayan kingdom, I asked a
crimson-robed monk at the ancient Kyichu Lhakhang Monastery in Paro
whether I could roll his dice. I drew a lucky number, 12.

The monk assured me that my wish -- to have a meaningful trip -- would be
granted.

He was right.

My husband, John, and I had come to Bhutan to attend the annual Paro
Tsechu, a five-day festival honoring Guru Rinpoche, who brought Buddhism
to Bhutan, and to get an in-depth look at this culture. We were among the
lucky 9,000 or so tourists annually allowed into the landlocked country
between India and Tibet. The way most tourists visit Bhutan is with a tour
group, as we did in April. Once in, visitors are required to spend $200 to
$240 per person, per day. Controlled tourism is just one way Bhutan
protects its ancient culture and natural beauty.

Only five decades ago, the "Land of the Thunder Dragon" was isolated from
the rest of the world, and its population depended on subsistence farming.
The kingdom -- at 18,150 square miles, about half the size of Indiana --
had few schools and no telephones, national currency, hospital or postal
service. Then, in the 1960s, Bhutan's third hereditary ruler, King Jigme
Dorji Wangchuck, took the first steps toward modernization, among them
abolishing the caste system and slavery, and beginning a secular education
system.

In 1972, his son, Jigme Singye Wangchuck, became king at age 16 and
continued his father's work, opening Bhutan's borders to tourism -- but
with strict limits -- to bring in much-needed revenue. His move paid off,
improving the standard of living for the kingdom's 2 million people while
preserving its traditions.

Today, the Bhutanese enjoy a national healthcare system. Local TV
programming began in the late 1990s, but it wasn't until a few years
later, when satellite TV arrived, that the world of the Bhutanese began to
change rapidly.

"The Bhutanese have the best of both worlds, the traditional and the
modern, although things are changing since the arrival of MTV," said
Chencho Dorji, a psychiatrist I met at one of the pre-festival
celebrations in Paro.

Today, Bhutan may have many of the amenities of the 21st century, but its
centuries-old customs and traditions still thrive.

Farmhouses like Alpine chalets

Our trip started in Paro, as our plane safely made the sharp, fast drop
onto the runway. The pilots of Druk Air, the only airline with service to
Bhutan, are experienced in clearing the high Himalayan peaks that surround
the town and the country's only international airport.

Inside the terminal, decorated with intricate woodcarvings and bold
primitive paintings, we met our guide, Tshering, then dropped our gear at
the Hotel Olathang, a rustic place with an expansive view. After a lunch
of locally grown red rice with emadatsi (cheese and hot chiles), Tshering
took us on a tour of Paro.

The Paro Valley is chockablock with farms and farmhouses. They resemble
Alpine chalets and are made of whitewashed stone and timber, topped with
broad, sloping roofs. But Bhutan's standout structures are the dzongs,
ancient fortresses that serve as monasteries and administrative centers.
Paro's Rinpung Dzong, where we were headed, was the center of festival
activities.

The dzong loomed above us as we crossed a small wooden bridge over the
Paro River and walked uphill, feeling the 6,500-foot altitude.

Construction on Paro's dominant landmark began in 1644, and not only is it
one of the finest examples of Bhutanese architecture, it also is strong,
having withstood many Tibetan invasions in its centuries of existence.

Locals streamed by us on their way to the first day of the tsechu, and I
could feel their excitement as they passed. Tshering paused to wrap his
10-foot-long unbleached raw-silk scarf around his gho, the men's
traditional dress. Gho are long robes that men hitch up to knee length and
belt tightly. The kira, which women wear, is a floor-length, rectangular
piece of cotton or silk that is wrapped around the body, then affixed at
the shoulders, tunic-like, over a silk blouse. All Bhutanese citizens are
required to wear the national dress in public during daylight hours.

There are many festivals in Bhutan, and Paro's is one of the biggest
social gatherings of the year. Colorful stalls sell food, religious
objects and hand-woven fabrics; others tout carnival games.

Each year, Paro's monks and residents perform a 12-episode dance drama
that commemorates the life of the country's spiritual father. Guru
Rinpoche, regarded as the second Buddha, spread Tibetan-style Tantric
Buddhism throughout the Himalayas 1,200 years ago. Watching the tsechu's
ritual dances is believed to protect onlookers, to instruct them in the
teachings of the Buddha and to exorcise evil influences.

Through it all, clowns, wearing long-nosed red masks, weaved in and out of
the scene, acting as masters of ceremonies, performing between the dances,
chasing dogs and children off the staging area, and teasing tourists and
locals.

On the festival's final day, we arrived in the predawn hours at the dzong
for the annual unfurling of the giant thondrol, an embroidered tapestry of
depicting Guru Rinpoche, which cannot see the light of day. The Bhutanese
believe that looking at the icon washes away their sins.

One of the festival attractions was an archery concession -- archery is
close to an obsession here -- and John paid a few coins to try hitting a
Bhutanese bulls'-eye. He hit the target a couple of times, to the
amazement of watching locals.

Later, John asked our driver to stop for a while at an archery field on
the outskirts of Thimphu, Bhutan's capital. Competitors in the friendly
Sunday match had set their wooden targets 500 feet away. When an archer
hit the mark, his teammates lined up and danced with joy.

Thimphu, a winding two-hour drive from Paro, is the country's only real
urban settlement. A few years ago, a stoplight was installed at the city's
downtown traffic circle. When residents complained that they preferred a
traffic cop, the local administration complied.

As we headed east from Thimphu, Tshering warned us that the snow-capped
Himalayas are seldom visible from the 10,000-foot mountain pass at Dochu
La on our way to Bumthang. Thunderstorms and torrential rains are common
here, and the average rainfall is more than 200 inches in the south. But
that day our luck held, and we were greeted with the sight of mountains
gleaming in the sunlight.

Bumthang is the base for visiting the pastoral Tang, Choekhar, Chumey and
Ura valleys. Guru Rinpoche converted the region to Buddhism in the 8th
century and it remains the country's most religious. At Choekhar Valley's
500-year-old Tamshing Goemba Monastery, we saw 6- to 8-year-old monks
enthusiastically reciting prayers in unison.

As we left the Ura Valley, Tshering spotted a convoy of official vehicles
carrying the country's head abbot, Je Khenpo. In a wild ride, our driver
sped past them as the abbot stopped to bestow blessings on some residents
standing beside the road.

When the convoy caught up to us, the lead policeman turned on his car's
siren and lights, signaling us to pull over so that he could pass. Our
driver instead stopped in front of a simple farmhouse, where a mother was
holding a child. We jumped out, lined up next to her, and bowed our heads
so that the abbot could pray over each of us.

"You are now blessed," the policeman said emphatically.

After having visited Bhutan, I know he was right.