From Bangkok to Shangri-la by Roger Beaumont*
27th Dec., 2009: I have wanted to visit Bhutan since I was 10 years old after being enchanted by a feature in a National Geographic magazine. So when destiny called on the phone to my studio in Bangkok last May, asking if I would be interested in helping The Centre for Bhutan Studies (CBS) and the United Nations Development Programme with an upcoming Democracy Conference in Paro, I shouted so loud in delight the house cat kamikazed through a glass screen and landed startled in shards of glass on top of a car in the soi below. I haven’t seen it since.
But between that phone call, the missing cat, and seeing Mt Everest and the mighty Jomolhari out of the Druk Air window three months later, it was all a true lesson in Buddhist patience.
At one point, I was asked to send a scan of my passport. I was in England at the time, away from my own computer and gadgets, so a friend of my mother’s offered to help. He is 86, and had just bought a scanner. He had been practising.
“I think we’ve got it,” he said, placing his third glass of wine on the desk. He then pressed send. Three days later, we received an email from the CBS, saying: “Thank you very much for the delightful picture of a tin of Heinz Baked Beans.”
When I arrived in Bhutan, the CBS was unable to find a place for me immediately, so I made base camp in the Thimphu Hotel for the first few days. It was cheap, loud and cheerful; a mix of Tibetan plumbing (no water, an alarming clanging of pipes, then a sudden, scalding torrent), slow service, and big smiles. I bought a small side-lamp; the connection started smoking. Then the toilet flushed on its own volition. I didn’t dare turn the TV on.