November 2024

We – Mom and I – arrived into Bhutan after 48 hours of travel. We flew from the US to Delhi, India where we had a 24-hour layer. In Delhi, we met a driver at the airport who drove us for three hours to the Taj Mahal. We spent the afternoon in Agra visiting the Taj Mahal and learning about its history. And then another three hour drive back to our hotel in Delhi. It was Diwali, the celebration of lights, in India, and I woke up around 1 am to the sounds of fireworks. I peered out our hotel window, incredibly groggy, and saw a sky full of fireworks. Around 10 am, we were back at the airport for our flight to Bhutan.

Bhutan sits in the Himalaya mountains, surrounded by Nepal, India, and China. They have a population of roughly 750,000 – in the entire country! The population is currently declining and the government is paying families to reproduce. It’s a predominantly Buddhist country, and until 1984, they didn’t have an airport. The only way to connect with the people in Bhutan, prior to 1984, was to walk….over the mountains. So, as you can imagine, there was little connection to the outside world.

Things like TV and the Internet and phone lines didn’t exist in Bhutan until around 1990. It was a very isolated country, tucked away into the mountains where no one else really cared to explore and the people in Bhutan knew no different.

The airport in Paro, Bhutan is one of the most dangerous in the world. High in the Himalayas, our pilots circled a number of mountains until suddenly a runway appeared below us. In Bhutan, there isn’t a radar system to help pilots land, so the pilots are completely on their own. In fact, there are only 50 pilots – in the entire world – trained to fly in and out of Bhutan. Roughly two to three flights go in out of Bhutan a day, and it’s an event that the population often watches for entertainment.

When we landed in Bhutan, I climbed down the flight of stairs from the aircraft to my wheelchair which sat on the runway. There are no jetways in Bhutan. And there wasn’t an ambulatory lift. I didn’t mind though, as our flight attendant was super understanding and attentive. He made up for any inconvenience and I quietly hoped everyone in Bhutan was as nice as he was.

As we navigated towards the airport, a small building, I noticed that this was unlike any airport I’d ever seen. It wasn’t bland and official looking, instead it was full of colors, and architecture, and character. It was a beautifully decorated building that looked like it could be some sort of religious building or museum.

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A young man was escorting us, as they often do when they see my wheelchair, and helped us through immigration. We found our way outside and located a taxi.

“How much to Thimphu?” I asked. Thimphu is the capital of Bhutan and about an hour drive from the airport.

“$50,” he said, with a smile.

“Ok,” I told him, knowing that his price was comparable to what I had read online.

We got into his very small car, crammed our two bags between us, put the wheelchair in the trunk, and rode mostly in silence for the next hour.

It was a stunning drive. Winding roads, a cool breeze blowing through the open windows, green covered mountainsides, and tranquility. We passed a few cars but never heard an engine roar or a car beep. It was just calm. Bhutan is one of the only carbon positive countries in the world, meaning they use less carbon than what they are putting back into the atmosphere. And it felt that way too.

I had messaged the hotel we were staying at a few days before we arrived and asked if their building was wheelchair friendly. They assured me that there was a lift to the room and that there were only a few stairs going in and out of the building, but not to worry, they would help me up and down.

As we pulled into the parking lot, three men came outside to greet us. From this moment on, we didn’t so much as lift a bag, struggle with a step, carry a coffee cup to our room, or call a taxi. Every detail and task we had to do in Bhutan, for our entire 4-day stay, was taken care of by the people in Bhutan. We weren’t just catered to, we were treated like royalty.

The hotel wasn’t full, so the owner gave us a free upgraded room. Two of the walls were made of glass panels, with doors that opened to a balcony overlooking the city. In the morning, we would sit in bed and drink coffee, looking out the panes of glass at the world’s largest sitting Buddha on the mountain in front of us. This room, by the way, was only $54 a night.

Our guide and driver picked us up the next morning, but on that first night, Mom and I explored Thimphu on our own. We asked our hotel owner for suggestions on restaurants, and without even questioning it, he arranged for a taxi to bring us to one of the few restaurants that didn’t have steps.

“Thank you,” we would say, to him and so many others.

And the Bhutanese people would nod their head to the side, putting their ear towards their shoulder, signaling to us in their own body language ‘you’re welcome,’ and often in response to a question, ‘yes.’

In Bhutan, there are no stop lights. There is a traffic guard who directs traffic if there are a few too many cars, but even then, there’s hardly ever too much traffic. The people never use their horns. “We would feel guilty if we did that. The other driver would feel like we are angry, and that is not what we want,” our guide would tell us. “Only in an emergency would we ever use our horn.” Instead, drivers flash their lights to alert other drivers, and then only if they need to.

The next morning, our driver and guide picked us up at our hotel. We drove to the top of the mountain to see the Buddha we had been admiring from our beds. As we drove up and through the mountains, we noticed colorful flags with writing on them hanging on the sides of the streets. We learned that they were prayer flags, strategically placed during specific times and in specific places, so the spiritual energy would read them and the wind would carry the messages on the flags to the gods. There are flags for love, and happiness, and peace. There are big flags and small flags. Faded flags and brand new, brightly colored flags. They are considered holy and sacred, an important part of the Tibetan culture.

At each stop in our tour, our driver or guide would alternate between pushing me. I love my independence and being able to move my body, but Bhutan is not an accessible place, so I appreciated the help (most of the time). Since we wouldn’t be able to climb the mountains to some of the most famous monasteries in Bhutan, our guide got creative.

“You like beer, yes?” he asked.

“Of course,” we both smiled.

“Ok, so today, since we had six hours planned for hiking and visiting the monastery, instead, we are going to bring you to a Bhutanese brewery.”

We both smiled big!

“And, it’s overlooking the airport, so you can watch the next two flights land!”

It was perfect. And we had the opportunity to chat with our driver and guide, and learn more about them and their culture – my favorite part of traveling!

We learned that students attend school for eight hours a day, all year round. Math, English, and the local language are the only compulsory subjects. (My brother-in-law’s Dad actually created the Bhutanese math curriculum back in the 1970s, which is a fun fact for me!)

We talked extensively about what it is like in Bhutan now that they have access to the outside world. Being only 20-something, they admitted that they didn’t know what it was like before the airport, and thus technology, entered the country. But, our guide told me, his parents tell him frequently, “Life is better now that we aren’t isolated.”

I am fascinated by his comments and reflection. In the 1970’s, the king of Bhutan announced that they were going to measure Gross National Happiness instead of Gross Domestic Product. He wanted to measure overall well-being and happiness in the country, instead of focusing on financial well-being. Having come from a culture where consumerism overpowers ideas around well-being, mental health, and general satisfaction with life, I’ve been curious about Bhutan’s mindset for a long, long time, and our conversation gave me some perspective on it. There was a definite focus on one’s happiness in Bhutan, and it was sensed with every encounter we had.

The next stop was the oldest monastery in Bhutan. While we couldn’t get to the monasteries high in the mountains, our driver and guide insisted that they at least bring me to the oldest monastery. “You have to visit at least one monastery while you are here!” they demanded.

The path leading to the monastery was an old stone path. They picked up the front and back of my wheelchair and carried me like a chariot for about ten minutes. I could tell they were getting worn out and I was aware that I was using all of my ‘pushing capital’ for this monastery. It was unlikely they would have much energy left after this visit for another site that was inaccessible, so I tried to take in as much as I could.

As we approached the steps to the monastery, a monk came out and the three of them chatted for some time in their own language. To enter a monastery, everyone takes their shoes off, so as not to dirty the floor, and I quietly wondered if the monk didn’t want me to enter because my wheels might have dirt on them. I’ll never know, and I suppose that’s better. In the end, he helped to bring me up the stairs, sans shoes but with some wheels.

We have lunch at an old farmhouse, where we eat on the floor. “All of the locals eat on the floor in their homes,” we’re told.

Because it’s cold in Bhutan, especially in winter months, the locals have creatively found ways to keep warm. One of the traditions in Bhutan is called a ‘hot stone bath.’ Large stones from the main river are collected, warmed on a fire for three or more hours, and then placed in a wooden tub filled with water. The stones heat the water, releasing minerals, and individuals soak in the tubs for hours on end. The minerals are said to heal most aches and pains, and it’s ‘good for the body.’ We experienced this first hand, two wooden tubs next to each other, a small opening to the outside where hot stones could be added to our tubs to heat our water.

And on the same day, after a brewery, monastery, lunch, and a hot stone bath, we drive back to Paro. There’s not much in Paro, but our guides want to be sure we see the city. They insist on pushing me around – again – from shop to shop, and while I’m grateful, I’m also beginning to feel trapped. I am finally in a part of the country that I am able to move on my own but they won’t allow me to. Their culture raises them to be hospitable, and to them, that means that I mustn’t do anything on my own that would cause overexertion. I quietly mumble under my breath, frustrated that I feel so controlled, angry that if it wasn’t for this wheelchair, I wouldn’t have someone insisting on taking care of me, and disappointed that I can’t accept their overwhelming kindness. “Please let me go. I just want my freedom,” I whisper so quietly that no one can hear me.

Once at the airport, Mom and I chat about the overabundance of kindness. In just a few days, we became exasperated with how kind and welcoming everyone was. It felt so natural for them…and so unnatural for us. I could hardly handle it, and before we boarded our flight, I told Mom, with a little bit of an eyeroll, “I just want someone to be mean to me, like I’m used to.”

On our flight, I sat next to a local man. We chatted for a bit before he told me that he worked for the Ministry of Health in Bhutan. He had seen me in the airport and wanted to stress that they – his country – were making big improvements towards disability access in Bhutan. “Ten or 15 years ago, there was nothing. Now hospitals have ramps!” he commented, excitedly. “We’re working on making schools accessible and putting in strips for the visually impaired. Come back in five years and everything will be better.”

I had a hard understanding how such rapid change could happen but hoped he was right. And like so many places around the world, I knew that even without ramps and tactile strips and regulation, the people would always be there to help. Soon enough, someone would be mean to me again, and I’d wish I was back in Bhutan, being uncomfortably overwhelmed with kindness.

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