Radio Shangri-La_ What I Learned in Bhutan, the Happiest Kingdom on Earth - Lisa Napoli [9]
Soon, our trip consultations graduated to the telephone. We were talking practically every day. He’d call with a quick thought or reminder. Like the importance of bringing long black socks as gifts for the men I’d meet; Sebastian said this leg covering was essential not just for warmth in winter but for style.
“Buy half a dozen pairs, or more. They prefer the Gold Toe brand, because they stay up better and last longer. Get them in solid black. Bring lip gloss or boxes of tea for women.” Not fancy Asian loose tea, he added. Plain old tea bags from America would impress. I trekked to Target and loaded up on a dozen pairs of Gold Toes, boxes of Celestial Seasonings, and various lipsticks.
Finally, the most important detail of the trip had been arranged: I had in my hands a faxed copy of my visa from the Royal Government of Bhutan permitting me to enter the country. Now it was official. That’s when I marched into my boss’s office to propose an unpaid leave of absence of no more than six weeks. I was surprised at how easily he said yes. “Isn’t that the place where there’s a two-hundred-dollar-a-day tourist tax? And you don’t have to pay? Go for it. What an amazing opportunity.” Then he muttered something about an old acquaintance who’d visited the place a decade before, and how while I was there I should try to file some stories for our shows, before he swung back around to his mound of paperwork.
The only not-so-smooth part of the plan came from my father, who couldn’t quite grok the adventure I was about to have:
YOUR GOING TO A THIRD WORLD COUNTRY TO DO WHAT FOR FREE? he wrote in an email, which, given the block letters and misspelling, conveyed the concern he felt about his dear and only daughter going off to a foreign land he’d initially thought was in Africa. (As did many people, although most were too timid to even venture a geographic guess.) What had happened to me as a young woman years ago weighed heavy on his heart. The fact that he’d read online that the United States didn’t have a diplomatic presence in Bhutan made this already faraway place seem even riskier. I assured him I wouldn’t be going if I didn’t feel safe.
But my safety wasn’t what I was thinking about. I had absolutely no idea what I would find on the other end—and that was the point.
A FEW WEEKS before my departure, I did a routine online check of the government-owned Bhutanese newspaper Kuensel. It published in hard copy twice a week, but new stories were added online every day. In anticipation of my trip, I’d taken to looking at the Web site every morning while my editors decided the fate of us reporters for the day. I hadn’t read the news in my own country so closely or with such interest in years.
Even for a newbie to “Bhutanalia,” the enormity of the newly published lead item was evident.
“His Majesty Jigme Khesar Namgyel Wangchuck becomes the fifth Druk Gyalpo,” read the headline. Druk Gyalpo meant “Dragon King.” The tone was so subtle, it read like a whisper. No New York Post–style fanfare trumpeting this news. The matter-of-fact report detailed how the fourth king had announced his abdication during a speech to a group of yak herders in a remote village. By handing over the throne now, he would allow his eldest son to reign for a few years before democratic elections would be held.
A constitutional monarchy, the king rationalized, was a more modern form of government, one he wanted to gift to his people during a peaceful time. He’d been slowly giving up power over the last two decades, establishing councils of advisors for various matters. Now, he said, was the time for his son to lead, and he was confident that under his guidance, “the Bhutanese people would enjoy a greater level