How to Travel Better is a new monthly column with Condé Nast Traveller’s sustainability editor Juliet Kinsman. In this series, Juliet introduces us to the sustainability heroes she meets, signposts the experiences that are enhancing our world, and shares the little and big ways we can all travel better.
My heart skipped several beats as our plane navigated the cloud-haloed sharp peaks of the Himalayas before easing itself onto the landing strip in Paro. Few pilots are even qualified to negotiate the strip, which is only the size of a couple of football pitches and is surrounded by low-rise, green-roofed whitewash-and-timber buildings. The only passengers on the tarmac, we padded, wide-eyed, slack-jawed, into the tiny arrivals lounge where we were greeted by bucolic scenes hand-painted on the wattle-and-daub walls. An independent bookshop and art displays stood where one would expect Duty Free to be.
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The passport control officer I was assigned opened my stamp-filled passport and smiled, saying: “Oh wow, you travel a lot”. This contrasted sharply with my transit through Bangkok, where I was scolded: “Passport full. Get new one.” At 2,200m above sea level, Bhutan’s only international airport had already been a breath of fresh air. We breezed through to be welcomed by Pencho, our guide, and Kencho, our driver. As we settled into the car, I asked how many visitors the country might have right at that moment, feeling very lucky to see so few around me. “Maybe 200 or 300,” Pencho replied. “It’s high season.”
In terms of world history, but a blink of an eye ago, Bhutan was still largely hidden from the rest of the world. Bhutan has only been a nation in its own right since 1907, but the hydro-powered, carbon-neutral country always indexes high among the most sustainable. It’s the reason why I arrived with expectations as high as the Himalayas: I wanted to understand better their low-traffic, high-spend tourism strategy—the sustainable development fee they charge travellers is a well-known example of this—that is so celebrated, alongside their Gross National Happiness metric. I especially wanted to see how this reconciles with ambitious developments like the Mindfulness City in Gelephu in the south, which aims to be a modern Buddhist lifestyle destination and economic mega hub.
I’m an independent traveller, but relinquishing all planning to our MyBhutan hosts was incredibly pleasant. They were to arrange an itinerary that would have us experiencing Bhutan in a way that felt honest and genuine, during which we’d leave money in the hands of those who care about local communities and nature. In Paro for instance, our first night was spent at Bhutanese-owned Zhiwa Ling Heritage, which proudly displays the design and craftsmanship of regional artisans and prioritises hiring locals.
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The hotel industry in Bhutan has always been sensitively regulated by the authorities. Aman and COMO Hotels and Resorts were among the first five-star international hotel brands to entice discerning visitors in the early noughties, and their luxury circuits that followed, connecting Paro, Thiumpu, Punakha, Gangtey, and Bumthang, set the bar. More recently, sustainability-and-wellness leader Six Senses has created its own daisy chain of sleek, eco-conscious retreats. And with Africa’s andBeyond importing their safari approach to Bhutan, wildlife, too, is in the spotlight. But more recently, there has also been an emphasis on homegrown hospitality, and homestays that offer a taste of everyday Bhutanese living are on the rise. One such homestay, the Mendrelgang Heritage Home in Punakha, is an ancestral home that presents an authentic setting, inviting its guests to step into a family’s real-life history.
Our itinerary planned by MyBhutan took us to a different stay every night from Paro in the west to Gangtey, about 100 miles west. The most challenging planned activity was a three-hour hike up a steep wooded cliff to Tiger’s Nest, a 17th-century monastery. I couldn’t help noticing that despite being a major tourist attraction, the majestic temple (as well as the dzongs we visited later) never felt busy. Another day we crossed a prayer-flag-festooned suspension bridge to Happiness Farm in Paro, for a fascinating first-hand tutorial on the centuries-old technique of natural dyeing and weaving with Aum Karma, its nangi-aum (lady of the house). There’s a remarkable national pride in both Bhutan’s handmade textiles and traditional clothing: Most men dress in a gho, the elegant knee-high wide-sleeved robes, while women dress in a hand-woven, ankle-length kira.
