On the mountain road to Thimphu, distant prayer flags fluttering in the valley below, I looked up to see a black face peering down from the rocky roadside ahead. It was a steely-grey primate about the size of a 12-year-old boy, but infinitely more agile and powerful. As our Jeep turned a corner, the animal bounded across the road and disappeared. "Silver baboon," said our driver. "Usually don't see them this low down, they live much higher up, that's why they're that colour. Maybe he's looking for water or food." The jungle variety found down near Phuentsholing in the south, he told us, are called golden baboons.
Bhutan is full of surprises, not all quite so delightful. Overindulgence in the home-brewed spirit called arra left me bed-ridden for 24 hours. Beetlenut - the local variation on chewing tobacco - made me vomit. The Bhutanese eat green chili for breakfast, but westerners who emulate them will soon become familiar with the clean, but rudimentary, local toilet facilities.
Visiting this closed and predominantly rural Himalayan kingdom is like a trip back in time: no railway system, no motorways, no public phone booths outside the two main cities. With cars limited by government quota and 80% of Bhutanese an hour or more by foot from the nearest road, travel is difficult and laborious. Outside the capital, Thimphu, workers sing in the fields and farmers plough with a pair of oxen.
This is a place where people still make houses communally, from timber and mud - and then paint them white and decorate them with enormous pink phalluses to ward off evil spirits; a place where you wake up to birdsong, and go to bed with every dog in Asia barking its head off. Be warned: if you want to sleep in Bhutan, you need earplugs.
Dzongka, a minority dialect imposed by government decree, is Bhutan's official language, but English is the lingua franca. School classes are taught in English, menus list omelettes alongside momos, shop signs and street names are printed in Roman capitals. Most teens can give directions to an internet cafe or the market; adults are polite and helpful. Sometimes it seems everybody knows everybody else: perhaps not unusual in a country one-third the size of England with a population of 600,000, similar to Glasgow's.
With communication so straightforward, it is easy to find yourself climbing a homemade wooden ladder and entering a Bhutanese home as a guest. Be prepared to drink several cups of sweet milky tea while flicking through voluminous photo albums, which may well include a shot of your host posing beside Demi Moore, Joanna Lumley or another recent celebrity tourist.
Otherwise, Bhutan is decidedly non-western. Both sexes keep their hair short and neat, behave modestly and are required by law to wear traditional costume in public. Men sport the belted, knee-length coat called a gho, worn with shorts and long socks; women, the ankle-length skirt called a kira, and a short jacket. However, trainers seem to be optional for both sexes.
Few cars and no heavy industry make for pristine mountain air. The food, at least the rice and vegetables, is mostly grown locally and chemical-free. But the lack of visual pollution appeals most: there is no advertising of any kind in Bhutan. Mobile phones have arrived, but are blissfully rare - the mountainous terrain renders them generally useless.
Tourism is a low-volume, high-cost affair which profits the nation yet prevents environmental degradation: tourists pay a flat-rate US$200 per day (which includes all accommodation, internal transport and food) whatever their itinerary. This keeps annual tourist numbers down to around 6,000, while tour operators pay 35% of this fee in "tourist tax" to the treasury, which funds the free health care and education that all Bhutanese now enjoy.
Most tourists come for trekking in unspoilt mountain ranges, like the 23-day Snowman Trek, much of it above 4,000m, with yaks bearing the equipment along the peaks. Despite paying around $5,000, few complete the course, said to be the world's most arduous.
My trip was spent in and around the Paro valley, visiting the ancient spiritual sites, hidden monasteries and opulent temples of Vajrayana buddhism. The most famous of these is Taktsang, the Tiger's Nest. Appearing to have sprouted from a mountainside above a 1,500m sheer drop, it looks dangerous, and is: a few years ago a Scandinavian tourist fell to her death from the ridge while taking a photograph.
Though badly damaged by fire in 1998 and still under reconstruction, Taktsang rewards the three-hour uphill hike, and not just for the sweeping views: its shrine rooms are lavishly decorated, adorned with gold plate, and full of antique icons and statuary of exceptional beauty. Though normally reserved for Bhutanese nationals only, foreigners can visit if they request a permit well in advance.
The Tiger's Nest hotel, about 10km north of Paro, opposite Taktsang, is a good base for exploring the valley, with a commanding view of the monastery and a tranquil, traditional atmosphere. Conversely, the recently completed Kyichu Resort, halfway between Taktsang and Paro, is a modern hotel complex complete with its own discotheque, and the area's big Saturday night location. The food in both hotels is geared to western tastes. Given my itinerary, my meals were more traditional Bhutanese fare, such as ema datse (cheese and chillies), or strips of dried cow's skin, boiled for several hours, then fried and cut into thin strips, eaten with green chillies and the local red rice. On bitterly cold mornings, a mug of steaming butter tea provided insulation.
The other end of the valley is dominated by Paro Dzong, an enormous white fortress-monastery, overlooking Paro town and the country's sole international airport. In March, the dzong hosts the Paro Tsechu, an annual five-day festival in honour of Guru Rinpoche, the Indian tantric wizard-saint who introduced Buddhism to both Bhutan and Tibet. On the second day, several thousand locals in national costume and a few dozen tourists in fleeces and hiking boots crowded into the dzong's ancient stone courtyard to witness the zhana cham, or black hat dance, performed by a dozen male dancers in extravagant brocade dresses with skull motifs, whirling like dervishes. An invocation of local protector deities, the dance purifies the ground for the year ahead and dispels malevolent spirits.
The final day of Tsechu begins before dawn and ends shortly afterward, with many thousands climbing the steep path to the dzong in darkness, to witness the brief unveiling of the thondrol - a monumental silk tapestry some 20m square, depicting Guru Rinpoche in various manifestations, the very sight of which is considered a blessing. This huge icon is draped over an internal wall of the dzong, and after ritual dances to invoke Guru Rinpoche's presence, pilgrims clutching handfuls of burning incense queue to press their foreheads against it - an even greater blessing.
Normally, Bhutanese are exceptionally polite and deferential, especially with foreigners. But when it comes to public blessings, it's every man for himself and devil take the hindmost. Somehow, though, it's difficult to be irritated with people who are friendly and gracious even when jostling you aside.
Way to go
Getting there: Qatar Airways (020-7896 3636) flies Heathrow-Kathmandu from £447.50. Druk Air (see bootan.com for agents) flies from Kathmandu-Paro twice weekly from £260pp.
Where to stay: Tigers Nest Resort, Satsam Chorten, Paro (+ 223912), has 15 double rooms.
When to go: Monsoon season, to be avoided, is June-September. High season is autumn, but the best time to visit is early March, as the ground thaws and the first green buds appear; the Paro Tsechu also takes place around this time.
Further information: tourism.gov.bt, kingdomofbhutan.com, bhutansociety.org, bootan.com.
Country code: 00 975.
Flight time: Heathrow-Kathmandu 14hrs, Kathmandu-Paro 1hr.
Time difference: GMT +6hrs.
£1 = 73.71 ngultrum.
