Travel: Bhutan

It was his images of Bhutan which inspired me to come to this hidden Himalayan kingdom. Quite by chance my visit coincides with his return, leading a photographic tour through the country.

But there is no time to say hello as a flash of yellow just inside the monastery and the beating of drums herald the arrival of the famous masked dancers. Around 20 black and white "birds" run excitedly into the courtyard, their costumes dazzling in the bright winter sun as they leap, a blur of swirling skirts as they spin barefoot, so fast they appear to be almost flying.

Ripples of laughter pass through the crowd as the schoolchildren mimic the antics of the black-necked crane, bobbing their heads and flapping their 'wings' with glee.

They are the star attractions of the black-necked crane festival held in front of the historic Gangte monastery in the remote Phobjikha Valley each November, when the cranes return from Tibet for the winter. Deemed heavenly by Buddhists, these birds have inspired numerous songs and dances in this deeply religious nation.

Like so much in this faraway, closed-off land, the festival is a fascinating mix of old and new. While traditional celebrations date back centuries and are deeply rooted in religion, the black-necked crane event was only started just over a decade ago.

The festival is helping protect the region's endangered black-necked cranes by giving farmers an alternative income through tourism, discouraging them from cutting costs by using cheaper chemical fertilisers which would damage the birds' habitat.

Instead of a hotel I opt for a homestay where I am warmly welcomed by the family. Sitting cross-legged by the kitchen fire, I attempt their custom of eating with the right hand with mixed and occasionally messy results. At night I sleep on a mattress under a thick, snug blanket, near the Buddhist altar found in every home. A single butterlamp burns softly, illuminating brightly coloured offerings.

Bhutan's religious heritage is among the most fascinating in the world, with numerous sites open to tourists. One, the fantastically named Temple Of The Divine Madman, was built in the 15th century and has been restored, dazzling with brilliant golds, blues and reds. As we walk up a dirt path towards it, my guide, Jigme Dorji, explains that the Divine Madman was so called because of his preference for conducting his teachings via womanising, drinking and generally "acting crazy". Dorji explains the standard approach of this popular Buddhist saint. "So the Divine Madman appears in town and he says, 'Hey, what are you doing? Is there lots of alcohol and beautiful women here?'"

The temple is believed to have been built to mark the saint's success in defeating a trio of devils who had been eating local people. Meanwhile the Madman's legendary sex life gained him a lasting reputation for fertility which encourages childless couples from Bhutan and beyond to make pilgrimages here. Once inside they pray and receive blessings. Many choose a card from a special pack offered by the temple's chief monk who then shows them the name – and therefore the sex – of their future child written on the back.

Images of phalluses inspired by this outrageous yogi abound, with unmissable paintings adorning many house walls. Within temples, intricate paintings illustrate the complex stories of a multitude of buddhas and deities.

The most famous of Bhutan's monasteries is Tigers Nest, perched improbably on a sheer cliff high above the city of Paro. From a distance it looks as though you'd have to rockclimb to reach it, but steep steps lead right to the top. The atmosphere within is one of hushed reverence. Monks murmur endless mantras beside altars while the bells of the prayer wheels chime continuously as a stream of tourists and believers flows in and out.

But suddenly the peace is shattered by abject wailing coming from one of the temples. Walking cautiously towards the noise we find a Chinese tourist, apparently overcome with hysteria. Her guide looks uncomfortable, though soon afterwards we see her again and she appears fine.

A red-robed monk talks quietly on his mobile phone outside one of the other temples here, a now common sight as living standards rise. Later on our tour at the Punakha monastery, or dzong, brash ringtones jar against the chimes of the prayer wheel.

As we wander through the courtyard we notice a group of tourists and guides peering intently out of a window to the road below. Apparently the king has just turned up to meet one of Bhutan's key religious leaders, and everyone is hoping to catch sight of him.

At only 30-something, King Jigme Khesar Namgyal Wangchuck is one of the world's youngest monarchs. His role is increasingly that of a figurehead, following the establishment of a democratically elected government in 2008. It was his father, the former King Jigme Singye Wangchuck, who first thought up what became known as gross national happiness. Its aim is to take a holistic approach to development rather than the standard financial measurement of gross domestic product by assessing the nation's success through its people's wellbeing too.

The secretary of gross national happiness – surely the best political job title going – admits it is impossible to make everyone happy but he believes the government is creating conditions conducive to happiness. These include compulsory daily meditation in schools, focused more on encouraging children to enjoy some quiet, peaceful thought rather than on religious faith.

Buddhist monks are of course masters of meditation, though the road to enlightenment appears long and arduous. At Wangdue Dzong a group of slightly bored-looking teenage monks sits cross-legged on the floor being lectured by a stern-looking master as we wander around. Dorji whispers: "He is telling them, 'If you don't study until blood comes out of your eyes you will never achieve enlightenment.'" Spying me, the master breaks off and asks, through Dorji, if I have any questions. He answers my questions at length, explaining in his own words what his lesson is about (no mention of blood coming out of anyone's eyes though he still looks pretty strict). Then he inquires about my own faith.

As an atheist, I feel slightly uncomfortable even though Buddhists claim to be tolerant of other beliefs. His parting words, however, unexpectedly delivered direct to me in English with a sudden smile, are a brilliant pitch: "Every day happy!"

Bhutan's second religion is archery, the national sport, with riotous competitions held throughout the land. It too has been changed by the influence of the outside world, with players now favouring expensive fibreglass bows over traditional bamboo models.

Taking aim with an old-school version in the grounds of the luxury Uma Paro hotel, I am surprised by how difficult it is to pull the arrow back and hold it steady before firing. The target looks miles away, although at 70 metres it's less than half the competition distance.

Although my instructor from Uma Paro is friendly and encouraging, I don't hit it once. But I don't hit any bystanders either.

By law Bhutanese people have to wear traditional dress in schools, government offices and on formal occasions. Women are elegant in the kira, a beautiful floor-length dress wrapped around the body over a Tibetan-style silk blouse.

The men wear a knee-length robe called a gho, fastened with a belt which creates a pouch above for holding money and other possessions. Younger men tend to team it with trainers now instead of the traditional pointy shoes. Traffic police here are also well-dressed, sporting white gloves as they direct vehicles through Thimpu, the only capital in the world with no traffic lights because people decided they were too impersonal.

Visiting Bhutan is an expensive business thanks to the government's tourism policy, which stipulates that every trip must cost the equivalent of £126 per person per day (covering all food, accommodation and travel) in low season (January and February, June to August and December) and £157 in high season (March to May and September to November).

While the rising price still deters many, Bhutan is increasingly popular, so if you can go, go now.

Jet Airways has daily return flights to Kathmandu (via London and Delhi or Mumbai) from Edinburgh from about £450 (jetairways.com). Return flights with Druk Air to Paro from Kathmandu start at £285 (drukair.com.bt).

Trips with Bhutan travel specialist Druk Asia cost from £126 per day including transport, food, accommodation and guide (drukasia.com).

A double room at the Uma Paro costs an extra £185 per room (comohotels.com/umaparo).

You know you are in one of the world's most picturesque locations when Colin Prior suddenly appears with his cameras. Scotland's best-known landscape photographer has been taking great pictures at stunning locations home and abroad for years.

It was his images of Bhutan which inspired me to come to this hidden Himalayan kingdom. Quite by chance my visit coincides with his return, leading a photographic tour through the country.

But there is no time to say hello as a flash of yellow just inside the monastery and the beating of drums herald the arrival of the famous masked dancers. Around 20 black and white "birds" run excitedly into the courtyard, their costumes dazzling in the bright winter sun as they leap, a blur of swirling skirts as they spin barefoot, so fast they appear to be almost flying.

Ripples of laughter pass through the crowd as the schoolchildren mimic the antics of the black-necked crane, bobbing their heads and flapping their 'wings' with glee.

They are the star attractions of the black-necked crane festival held in front of the historic Gangte monastery in the remote Phobjikha Valley each November, when the cranes return from Tibet for the winter. Deemed heavenly by Buddhists, these birds have inspired numerous songs and dances in this deeply religious nation.

Like so much in this faraway, closed-off land, the festival is a fascinating mix of old and new. While traditional celebrations date back centuries and are deeply rooted in religion, the black-necked crane event was only started just over a decade ago.

The festival is helping protect the region's endangered black-necked cranes by giving farmers an alternative income through tourism, discouraging them from cutting costs by using cheaper chemical fertilisers which would damage the birds' habitat.

Instead of a hotel I opt for a homestay where I am warmly welcomed by the family. Sitting cross-legged by the kitchen fire, I attempt their custom of eating with the right hand with mixed and occasionally messy results. At night I sleep on a mattress under a thick, snug blanket, near the Buddhist altar found in every home. A single butterlamp burns softly, illuminating brightly coloured offerings.

Bhutan's religious heritage is among the most fascinating in the world, with numerous sites open to tourists. One, the fantastically named Temple Of The Divine Madman, was built in the 15th century and has been restored, dazzling with brilliant golds, blues and reds. As we walk up a dirt path towards it, my guide, Jigme Dorji, explains that the Divine Madman was so called because of his preference for conducting his teachings via womanising, drinking and generally "acting crazy". Dorji explains the standard approach of this popular Buddhist saint. "So the Divine Madman appears in town and he says, 'Hey, what are you doing? Is there lots of alcohol and beautiful women here?'"

The temple is believed to have been built to mark the saint's success in defeating a trio of devils who had been eating local people. Meanwhile the Madman's legendary sex life gained him a lasting reputation for fertility which encourages childless couples from Bhutan and beyond to make pilgrimages here. Once inside they pray and receive blessings. Many choose a card from a special pack offered by the temple's chief monk who then shows them the name – and therefore the sex – of their future child written on the back.

Images of phalluses inspired by this outrageous yogi abound, with unmissable paintings adorning many house walls. Within temples, intricate paintings illustrate the complex stories of a multitude of buddhas and deities.

The most famous of Bhutan's monasteries is Tigers Nest, perched improbably on a sheer cliff high above the city of Paro. From a distance it looks as though you'd have to rockclimb to reach it, but steep steps lead right to the top. The atmosphere within is one of hushed reverence. Monks murmur endless mantras beside altars while the bells of the prayer wheels chime continuously as a stream of tourists and believers flows in and out.

But suddenly the peace is shattered by abject wailing coming from one of the temples. Walking cautiously towards the noise we find a Chinese tourist, apparently overcome with hysteria. Her guide looks uncomfortable, though soon afterwards we see her again and she appears fine.

A red-robed monk talks quietly on his mobile phone outside one of the other temples here, a now common sight as living standards rise. Later on our tour at the Punakha monastery, or dzong, brash ringtones jar against the chimes of the prayer wheel.

As we wander through the courtyard we notice a group of tourists and guides peering intently out of a window to the road below. Apparently the king has just turned up to meet one of Bhutan's key religious leaders, and everyone is hoping to catch sight of him.

At only 30-something, King Jigme Khesar Namgyal Wangchuck is one of the world's youngest monarchs. His role is increasingly that of a figurehead, following the establishment of a democratically elected government in 2008. It was his father, the former King Jigme Singye Wangchuck, who first thought up what became known as gross national happiness. Its aim is to take a holistic approach to development rather than the standard financial measurement of gross domestic product by assessing the nation's success through its people's wellbeing too.

The secretary of gross national happiness – surely the best political job title going – admits it is impossible to make everyone happy but he believes the government is creating conditions conducive to happiness. These include compulsory daily meditation in schools, focused more on encouraging children to enjoy some quiet, peaceful thought rather than on religious faith.

Buddhist monks are of course masters of meditation, though the road to enlightenment appears long and arduous. At Wangdue Dzong a group of slightly bored-looking teenage monks sits cross-legged on the floor being lectured by a stern-looking master as we wander around. Dorji whispers: "He is telling them, 'If you don't study until blood comes out of your eyes you will never achieve enlightenment.'" Spying me, the master breaks off and asks, through Dorji, if I have any questions. He answers my questions at length, explaining in his own words what his lesson is about (no mention of blood coming out of anyone's eyes though he still looks pretty strict). Then he inquires about my own faith.

As an atheist, I feel slightly uncomfortable even though Buddhists claim to be tolerant of other beliefs. His parting words, however, unexpectedly delivered direct to me in English with a sudden smile, are a brilliant pitch: "Every day happy!"

Bhutan's second religion is archery, the national sport, with riotous competitions held throughout the land. It too has been changed by the influence of the outside world, with players now favouring expensive fibreglass bows over traditional bamboo models.

Taking aim with an old-school version in the grounds of the luxury Uma Paro hotel, I am surprised by how difficult it is to pull the arrow back and hold it steady before firing. The target looks miles away, although at 70 metres it's less than half the competition distance.

Although my instructor from Uma Paro is friendly and encouraging, I don't hit it once. But I don't hit any bystanders either.

By law Bhutanese people have to wear traditional dress in schools, government offices and on formal occasions. Women are elegant in the kira, a beautiful floor-length dress wrapped around the body over a Tibetan-style silk blouse.

The men wear a knee-length robe called a gho, fastened with a belt which creates a pouch above for holding money and other possessions. Younger men tend to team it with trainers now instead of the traditional pointy shoes. Traffic police here are also well-dressed, sporting white gloves as they direct vehicles through Thimpu, the only capital in the world with no traffic lights because people decided they were too impersonal.

Visiting Bhutan is an expensive business thanks to the government's tourism policy, which stipulates that every trip must cost the equivalent of £126 per person per day (covering all food, accommodation and travel) in low season (January and February, June to August and December) and £157 in high season (March to May and September to November).

While the rising price still deters many, Bhutan is increasingly popular, so if you can go, go now.

TRAVEL NOTES

Jet Airways has daily return flights to Kathmandu (via London and Delhi or Mumbai) from Edinburgh from about £450 (jetairways.com). Return flights with Druk Air to Paro from Kathmandu start at £285 (drukair.com.bt).

Trips with Bhutan travel specialist Druk Asia cost from £126 per day including transport, food, accommodation and guide (drukasia.com).

A double room at the Uma Paro costs an extra £185 per room (comohotels.com/umaparo).