Out of this world

The red carpet was rolled out as soon as the plane came to a halt - you certainly get a warm welcome in Bhutan, or so we thought. The greeting, as it turned out, was not for us, but for one of the offspring of His Majesty Jigme Singye Wangchuck, Bhutan's fourth king.

The red carpet was rolled out as soon as the plane came to a halt - you certainly get a warm welcome in Bhutan, or so we thought. The greeting, as it turned out, was not for us, but for one of the offspring of His Majesty Jigme Singye Wangchuck, Bhutan's fourth king.

It didn't matter. The flight from Calcutta had been spectacular. No sooner had we stolen a photograph of Everest looming off to our left than the plane had lurched into a steep descent for the tricky approach into Paro airport. Only a handful of pilots are qualified to make the landing, and as our aircraft threaded through the narrow valley its wings almost seemed to scrape the slopes.

Roughly the size of Switzerland (to which, on first impressions, it bears more than a passing resemblance), the Kingdom of Bhutan is a minnow lodged between the superpowers of India and China. The name Bhutan is thought to derive from either the Sanskrit bhotant, meaning "end of Tibet", or bhu-uttan, which means "high land". The latter is perhaps the most apt: the country ascends from 300m like a steep flight of stairs, topping out at 7,000m in the high Himalaya to the north. The Bhutanese refer to their country in their native Dhongka as Druk Yul, or "Land of the Thunder Dragon".

Bhutan is one of the last remote corners of the Himalaya: an untainted wilderness of soaring mountains, clear glacial rivers and high plateaux filled with wild flowers and thick forests. It is mercifully free of the litter-lined trails that scar its neighbours - for centuries, Bhutan has remained largely untouched by the modern world.

This is thanks to the Bhutanese government, which takes a cautious approach to tourism, and a central body of monks who are keen to protect the traditional values of the world's only remaining Buddhist kingdom. In 2004 just under 10,000 people visited Bhutan, all of whom paid $200 a day in tourist tax to breathe the fresh mountain air. Independent travel is not permitted and all visitors are required to arrive as part of an organised tour, or to have pre-arranged accommodation.

But last year saw the dawn of a new era of tourism in Bhutan with the opening of two luxury retreats. The government sanctioned the hotels in an attempt to attract the "right" kind of high-end tourist without compromising its belief that gross national happiness is more important than gross national product - a mantra that is written into the constitution.

Both hotels are in the majestic Paro valley, considered to be one of the most beautiful in the country. The first, Amankora, is an Amanresort that opened last May. The second, Uma Paro, opened in November and is a joint venture between a local businessman and Singaporean hotelier Christina Ong. Predictably enough, both have already welcomed a steady stream of well-heeled patrons, from Cameron Diaz to Hong Kong millionaire David Tang, who jetted in to celebrate his birthday. At Uma Paro and Amankora, guests spend their days hiking, mountain-biking and exploring temples and monasteries in the company of a dedicated local guide - a sort of cultural activity holiday, albeit in the lap of luxury.

Uma Paro was the location for our stay. Formerly the Druk Hotel, it is set on a ridge above the town and occupies the former home of a local nobleman. The Bhutanese architecture and character of the building have been retained throughout, complete with sleek black marble floors and a shingle roof held down by large rocks. Our bedroom had a balcony offering great views over the dun-coloured paddy fields of the Paro valley. It became a daily ritual for me to gaze out the window as the sun sank and the Himalayas turned an ever-darker shade of purple.

The hotel's Como Shambala spa has daily yoga classes, an indoor swimming-pool, treatment rooms offering holistic therapies, and an outdoor bath-house. In the latter, guests can take soothing, traditional Bhutanese hot-stone baths, where the water is heated by rocks from the fire.

Our first experience at Uma Paro was a little more energetic. On arrival we were introduced to Lakpa, who was to be our guide for the next eight days. He immediately took us for a short walk up the "hill" behind the hotel to help us acclimatise to the altitude, which left us gasping for breath and in desperate need of a lie down.

Lakpa explained that almost all Bhutan's 700,000 residents adhere to the Drukpa Kagyu school of tantric Buddhism. Guru Rinpoche (also referred to as the Precious Master) was the father of this sect and is credited with introducing Buddhism to Bhutan in the 7th century. Spirituality permeates everybody's lives here, and no journey can be made without passing a prayer wall, prayer wheel or stupa (religious monument). There are prayer flags everywhere: strips of cloth on tall poles that flutter on mountain tops and are draped across rushing slate-coloured rivers, where prayers are believed to be best dispersed.

Bhutan is made up of 20 dzongkhags, or districts, that were established by Shabdrung Ngawang Namgyal, a charismatic Tibetan lama who arrived in Bhutan around 1616. He established a dual system of religious and secular government that still exists today (albeit in slightly altered form), and he is also attributed with unifying many of the Buddhist sects that existed in the country at the time. At the centre of each of these districts is the dzong, the basis of administrative and spiritual life.

Rinpung Dzong, which roughly translates as "fortress on the heap of jewels", stands on high ground above Paro. Constructed in the 15th or 16th century to guard against invasions from Tibet, the dzong was rebuilt by Shabdrung Ngawang Namgyal in about 1645. Its thick tapered walls are painted white and have a wide terracotta stripe denoting its status as a temple.

The temple was destroyed by fire in the early 1900s and the only treasure to survive the blaze was the enormous Tongdrol Tangkha, a banner depicting Guru Padmasambhava that is unfurled each March at the Paro Tsechu Festival. In accordance with tradition, the dzong was rebuilt around two courtyards, one surrounded by administrative buildings and a courthouse, the other home to a colony of monks. In the second courtyard a young monk, who couldn't have been more than eight years old (boys commonly enter monasteries as young as six), sat in front of a line of pink, orange and yellow ribbons, believed to bring good luck. Throughout the dzong all available space is covered with multi-coloured paintings of classical myths.

After our visit, we picnicked in brilliant winter sunshine, sitting in an orchard of apple trees on the banks of the sparkling Paro Chuu river. That afternoon Lakpa took us on a brief tour of Paro, its main street flanked by a single line of buildings and its handful of shops apparently selling the same things: vegetables, chillies and canned goods. We visited the weekly market, held every Sunday, where vendors sat cross-legged in front of huge piles of potatoes and onions. There were mounds of translucent dried chillies, strings of cubed, dried yak's cheese and, somewhat bizarrely, mountains of cooked popcorn. The faint smell of the ubiquitous betel nut pervaded the air.

Bhutan is full of anachronisms. National dress has been compulsory since 1989, average income hovers at around $700 and 90 per cent of the population is engaged in subsistence farming, yet many people own mobile phones and have cable television. English has been taught as the first language since the 1960s - Lakpa admitted he read it better than Dzongka when I asked him to translate a sign. He, like most of his compatriots, has complete reverence for the royal family, particularly His Majesty King Jigme Singye Wangchuck, who came to the throne in 1972 and has also acted as the head of government since 1998.

Rather than live in regal splendour, the king has a small house which, if the local population is to believed, he built himself. Every citizen in Bhutan is invited to voice their concerns to him in person once a year. Despite his heroic reputation, even the Bhutanese can see the irony of the slogan he dreamt up to control the birth rate - "a happy family is a small family". The king is married to four sisters and has 13 children (although the number varies from 10 to 21, depending on who you ask).

In Bhutan, fact is often tangled in myth. You hear stories of temples built on mounds of jewels and * supine ogresses, and there are at least three conflicting locations for an orange tree that bears fruit throughout the year. One of these is the grounds of Kyichu Temple, just outside Paro. When we arrived, the approach was lined with red, yellow and green flags and it soon became apparent that a festival was in progress. It was an annual nine-day event dedicated to the Guru Rinpoche and attended by around 800 monks, nuns and devotees.

Inside the temple we were confronted by a sea of claret-robed monks, who sat surrounded by flickering butter lamps as the sun streamed in through the windows. Beside the altar there were offerings of biscuits, crisps and fruit that would be distributed to the people at the end of the festival. Smoke from incense hung thickly in the air and the only sound was the hypnotic chant of prayers.

Further down the valley the shell of Drukgyel Dzong, all that remains after a butter-lamp fire in 1951, stands high above the Paro Chuu river. The neighbouring hamlet had an outpost air: mules and ponies used for treks and to transport goods up the mountain stood tethered and grazing. It was here that we got our first sighting of houses adorned with paintings of phalluses. Such decoration is used all over Bhutan as a sign of good luck, and is attributed to the Bhutanese saint Drukpa Kinley, also known as the "Divine Madman".

The following day, I felt a slight twinge of sympathy for the model from American Vogue who apparently almost froze to death during a recent photo-shoot on top of the Chele La Pass. At 3,810m Chele La is one of the highest passable roads in Bhutan, and links Paro with the remote Ha valley. From the top of the pass, stunning views unfolded of the surrounding valleys and of Mount Jhomolhari, Bhutan's highest peak.

We had come to the pass for a 25km mountain bike descent into the valley. We set off down a series of switchbacks through pine and rhododendron forests, our freezing hands straining to apply the brakes. On the 40 or so minutes it took to descend 1,500m, the only sounds were of the wind rushing through the trees and a chorus of yak bells chiming through the valley.

The Ha valley is remote. At an altitude of 2,700m, cultivating crops is impossible and icy winds blow down from the jagged peaks that surround it. From the end of the scattering of houses that count as a village, the road peters out and from there it's an eight-hour hike to the Chinese border. It felt like the end of the world. On the 60km drive back to Paro we encountered one taxi, a tractor and a small group of people carrying baskets of pine needles, which are used for animal bedding.

The fresh air had given us a healthy appetite, although Bhutanese cuisine is not a big attraction. Emadatse, the ubiquitous national dish, is an incendiary combination of chillies and cheese. Chillies are used not so much as a seasoning but more as a vegetable and, as Lakpa reliably informed us, the Bhutanese consider any food not containing vast amounts bland to the point of inedible. If you feel so inclined, there is plenty of opportunity to sample emadatse, as it is eaten at virtually every meal, accompanied by rice. I am slightly ashamed to admit that I was grateful for Uma Paro's restaurant, and I still get cravings for its Bumthang cheese ravioli.

There was more activity on offer the next day. No visit to Bhutan is complete without an ascent to one of the country's most revered pilgrimage sites, Taktsang Lhakang (the "tiger's nest"), which seems to be suspended in thin air 3,000m up a sheer cliff face. Legend has it that the Guru Rinpoche rode on the back of a tigress from Tibet and ended up at Taktsang, where he meditated for three years and subsequently converted the Paro valley to Buddhism. Almost two-thirds of the monastery was destroyed by fire in 1998 - another casualty of a butter lamp - but the building has been faithfully reconstructed using bricks pullied up from the valley floor below.

We walked for about an hour to reach a large wheel festooned with prayer flags fluttering in the wind. From there we got our first unhindered views of the monastery. At regular intervals along the path, worn by centuries of pilgrims, we encountered little beehive-like structures made from pine cones and rocks, which, Lakpa explained, were put there by passers-by to appease the mountain gods and ensure a safe journey.

After another 40 minutes we arrived at a rocky outcrop. From here the only obstacle between us and our destination was a deep chasm, which made the very existence of the monastery even more impressive. We gingerly descended the 800 steps leading down and back up the side of the rock face while Lakpa assured us that the only fatality he had ever heard of was an unfortunate Japanese tourist who fell off the ridge while trying to take a photograph. At the bottom of the gorge we looked up at a waterfall plunging down the cliff face, pieces of frozen ice spraying in every direction. Crossing the bridge over the river, we spied a tiny stone hut built into a thin crevice, where a local woman on retreat was meditating for the customary three years, three months and three days.

There are 13 holy places in the monastery - a series of temples lit with butter lamps and blanketed with paintings. Despite a warm welcome from the young monk who showed us around, we felt that this was a world in which we didn't belong. In one of the temples, the monk blessed a set of prayer flags that Lakpa had thoughtfully brought with him as a souvenir for us to take home. Having performed the blessing, he showered the flags in rice and holy water from an ornate golden vessel adorned with peacock feathers. At the end of our tour, we craned our necks for views through a small opening into the most sacred temple of the monastery, where there stands a 3m statue of Guru Rinpoche. Then we sat surveying the Paro valley from one of the monastery walls. It felt as if we were floating somewhere between heaven and earth.

TRAVELLER'S GUIDE

GETTING THERE

Druk Air (www.drukair.com) is the only airline that offers flights to Bhutan. It flies from Delhi, Calcutta, Kathmandu, Bangkok and Dhaka with return fares starting from $380 (£200). The most convenient way to visit Bhutan is through a tour firm that can sort out a visa and pre-pay your tourist taxes. Steppes East (01285 651 010; www.steppeseast.co.uk) offers five nights at Uma Paro from £2,095 per person, based on two sharing. The price includes flights, transfers and full-board accommodation. A Bhutanese visa can be pre-arranged, but the $20 (£11) fee is payable on arrival in the country.

FURTHER INFORMATION

Uma Paro (00 975 8 271597; www.uma.como.bz); www.kingdomofbhutan.com

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