Radio Shangri-La_ What I Learned in Bhutan, the Happiest Kingdom on Earth - Lisa Napoli [80]
Like most of the elite citizens of Bhutan, Lyonpo Ugyen had begun his studies with the Jesuits in India and had gone on to attend fine universities in the United States. He enjoyed a long marriage to a formidable Italian beauty, and the magnificent Villa Italia was her creation. It was a testament to Lyonpo Ugyen’s standing in Bhutan, where cultural preservation and ethnic homogeneity are highly regarded, that this “mixed marriage” hadn’t become a political liability.
As would-be politicians go, Lynopo Ugyen was as Teflon as Reagan, as charming as Clinton, and as wise as Carter. To the people of Bhutan, he posessed the quintessential qualities of a modern steward: humility, worldliness, and reverence of the homeland. And because of this, he could very likely be Bhutan’s first elected foreign minister.
The decor of the Tshering family living room was, like the evening’s menu, a museum to the merged cultures of its owners: At its center sat a large, brightly decorated Christmas tree, its colorful lights reflecting in the glass covering the prominently placed portrait of His Majesty the king. The living room also boasted several more personal photographs of the revered monarch at various stages of his life, posed with Lyonpo, his wife, and their children. As a young man, His Majesty had been educated in the United States, which had coincided with Lyonpo’s service as UN ambassador in New York City.
Guests crunched on Bumthang-made potato chips, and the Bhutan Broadcasting Service played in the background. The BBS was doing its best impersonation of CNN, even if it had neither the budget nor the worldly reach.
“This is a historic evening for Bhutan,” declared the anchorman, Tshewang Dendhup. “You are watching history being made.” Such a declaration was very un-Bhutanese, but if ever there was a time for drama, this was it. And Tshewang was the perfect person to utter it. He was perhaps Bhutan’s best-known export, having appeared as the star of the film Travellers and Magicians, and as the real-life love interest in a book by the young Canadian teacher who had, for a time, become his wife.
The coanchor, Dawa Sonam, was Bhutan’s answer to Anderson Cooper, his demeanor the perfect broadcast blend of serious and convivial. He chatted with reporters stationed at various polling places across the country, as slides with their pictures and the names of the districts they were calling from appeared on the screen. Only one live video shot was possible, since the BBS owned only a single microwave truck—a donation from Japan. That was parked at national election headquarters, just about a mile up the street from the BBS studio. Even if there had been more trucks available, the ability to beam live pictures across the rocky Bhutanese terrain would have posed a challenge for the most experienced engineers, for mountains would have obstructed the signal.
Although the simple phoned-in reports didn’t exactly make for lively imagery, viewers were ably regaled with tales of their fellow citizens who had dutifully made their way to the polls. Despite educational initiatives in advance of election day, not everyone understood how the voting machines worked. A seventy-eight-year-old woman confessed, “I pressed the first. Did I vote for the right candidate?”
A forty-four-year-old yak herder trekked four hours from his village to his local polling station, and declared that he’d cast his vote for the eldest candidate in his district. “The old are always wise,