Elite Traveler Summer 2024

elite traveler SUMMER 2024 159

River House at andBeyond Punakha River Lodge

Inside the River House

The pitch-perfect notes piercing the crisp morning air outside are so loud and crystal clear that it sounds like the fl ute sequence from a Puccini opera. Now joined by an equally unrestrained oboe player, my befuddled brain rewinds back to Bhutan’s Paro airport, where I stood in line behind a man whose cap read ‘Oriental Bird Club.’ With the typical duty-free shops and fast-food outlets supplanted by a Buddhist bookshop and photos of beautiful birds, tiny tranquil Paro is more redolent of a museum than an airport. I have, it seems, unwittingly fl own straight into Birdwatch Central, but with wonderful wake-up calls like this, that’s not ru ffl ing any feathers. I eventually arrive at Amankora in Bumthang in central Bhutan, a nine-hour drive along a quiet yak-ruled road with endless loops around massive misty walls of green (70% of Bhutan is covered in forest) as it scythes its way through one of nature’s last remaining unmolested ecological outposts. It’s 50 years since Bhutan, sandwiched precariously between India and China, opened to the world after centuries of isolation, and 20 years since the fi rst international brand appeared. That was Aman Resorts, after its mythical founder, Adrian Zecha, arrived on the inaugural Bangkok-Paro fl ight in 1989 with Drukair, Bhutan’s national airline. International carriers still aren’t permitted and, while private jets can land, all pilots must be licensed for Paro’s famously challenging approach. Amankora Bumthang, exuding an understated sophistication long synonymous with Aman, is gently nestled next to an ancient royal palace, the last of fi veAman lodges to be constructed, all collectively called Amankora — a model since replicated by other luxury brands. With its high-value, low-volume approach to tourism, the Land of the Thunder Dragon transmits a seductive siren call to an increasingly over-touristed world. Nearly the size of Switzerland, with less than a tenth of its population, it is rightly terri fi edof its cultural heritage being irreparably damaged by a rapacious tourist industry. Numbers are kept low by a daily $100 charge, the Sustainable Development Fee, which also helps preserve Bhutan’s unique culture and pristine landscape, as well as supporting free healthcare and education. Beguiling Bhutan

In otherworldly Bumthang, inside the 7th-century Jampa Lhankhang temple, the air hangs heavy with centuries of mysticism. Amid the multicolored, timeworn, dimly lit rooms where monks quietly replenish fl owers beneath the enigmatic golden gaze of the Buddha, time doesn’t simply stand still; one wonders if it’s ever moved. My guide, Mohan, and I are the only visitors, and while it isn’t quite Seven Years in Tibet , it’s still light-years away from the packed buses and tourist junk plaguing the religious sites of more accessible Buddhist countries. A hundred bucks a day? That’s a bargain. Mohan reels o ff a colorful litany of folk tales involving battles between good and evil, crusading heroic lamas, demonesses and consorts capable of assuming other forms, before pointing to a large hole in the stone fl oor where an evil force once resided. Apparently, evil forces came to feature here regularly. Confused? I know I was, as I stepped circumspectly around the hole, but these rich layered histories interweaving tantric Tibetan Buddhism with long held beliefs in local deities are deeply ingrained and probably best absorbed at one of Bhutan’s many festivals. Mountaineering was prohibited in 2003 precisely because local people deemed it o ff ensive to the spirits who reside there. A short hike (hiking is as popular as birding) through the forest brings us to the isolated Pema Choling nunnery, where I’m immediately confronted by rows of red-robed young nuns. I expect to be shooed away, but we’re quietly motioned up the corner and served tea, then presented with a large drum full of cookies. Can I take a photo? After a hurried consultation, yes, I can. Then, without warning, they lurch into their incantations and one of my more memorable impromptu travel moments. They all look so trusting, I want to warn them about

Photos Marcus Westberg