Bhutan - Where I found a new family

Bhutan: Where I Found a New Family

After ten full‑on days travelling through India, the moment we touched down in Paro I knew this part of the journey was going to feel different.

The approach through the mountains is close and careful, and Paro airport is small, calm and characterful. After the colour, noise and intensity of India, Bhutan seemed to have its own rhythm from the moment we arrived.

And then we met Subash and Dawa.

As soon as we boarded our coach, Subash welcomed us by singing the Bhutanese welcome song “Namkha Phudosa.” It was such a joyful introduction to the country and unexpectedly became a bit of a hit when I shared it on Instagram.

It was also our first glimpse of Subash’s larger‑than‑life personality.

Every morning after that, he would greet us with a cheerful “Good morning, family”, often followed by a song and a short Buddhist thought for the day, perhaps about compassion, kindness or karma.

It became our morning ritual.

Subash delivered it all with warmth, humour and a twinkle in his eye.

Dawa was knowledgeable and attentive, with a lovely gentleness about her. Every now and then, particularly when the attention turned towards her, she would become shy, putting her palms to her face, which was very endearing to watch.

Subash and Dawa have known each other since college, and that long friendship showed in the easy way they moved around each other: finishing each other’s stories, sharing quiet smiles and little in‑jokes, always in sync.

Together, they would become a huge part of our Bhutan story.

Thimphu

My first morning at Six Senses Thimphu began with an early swim.

After days on the road in India, the pool was just the tonic my tired body needed, soothing the aches while setting me up for the full‑on day ahead.

We visited the Bhutan Postal Museum, where we created personalised postage stamps, the huge Buddha Dordenma overlooking the valley and the National Memorial Chorten, watching people carrying out their daily prayers and rituals.

From there we visited Trashichhoedzong and wandered through Ka Ja Throm, getting another glimpse of everyday Bhutan alongside its temples and monuments.

Then, over lunch at Le Méridien, something happened that definitely was not on our itinerary.

We heard that the King of Bhutan was visiting the hotel.

Given how deeply loved and respected the King is in Bhutan, this was a big moment. Subash could not quite believe our luck and his excitement was infectious.

I abandoned my tiramisu and went in search of a glimpse.

And there he was.

My immediate thought was how striking he looked, graceful and charismatic, and I could not help thinking of a young Elvis in his prime. It felt fitting: one king mirroring another, both commanding a room in their own way.

After lunch, Sarah and I headed to Choki Traditional Art School. We lit butter lamps, met some of the students and learnt about the traditional crafts the school helps preserve while supporting young people from disadvantaged backgrounds.

Sarah took supporting the community to another level.

Single‑handedly she bought up most of the arts and crafts shop. Every time I turned around, she seemed to be cradling another painting, textile or carving, her face lit up with delight.

So much so that we subsequently had to head back into Thimphu to buy her another suitcase to get everything home.

That shopping spree became a running joke for the rest of the trip.

Each time we stopped somewhere new, there would be another light‑hearted comment about Sarah’s shopping and the ever‑expanding luggage, with everyone keen to see what she had found this time.

Behind the laughter, though, was something rather lovely: every purchase was helping to support the school and its community, turning her “addiction” into a very tangible kind of generosity.

It had been quite a first day.

Into the mountains

From Thimphu we travelled towards Gangtey, stopping at Dochula Pass and its 108 Druk Wangyal Chortens. We hoisted prayer flags against the mountain backdrop and then promptly lowered the tone by recreating the Beatles’ Abbey Road photograph on a nearby zebra crossing.

Bhutan, we were discovering, could be spiritual without ever feeling solemn.

In the Phobjikha Valley, we attended a prayer ceremony at Gangtey Shedra, visited Gangtey Goenpa and walked through the valley, home in winter to Bhutan’s black‑necked cranes.

There was yoga, laughter and even an impromptu game of football with young monks.

Often it is the moments that never appear on an itinerary that stay with you.

Punakha and the Divine Madman

Descending into the warmer Punakha Valley brought another change of landscape, and another side of Bhutanese culture.

We visited magnificent Punakha Dzong, sitting at the confluence of two rivers, before experiencing a more rural side of the valley at Gatshothang Farmhouse, where we enjoyed a delicious local meal.

Then came Chimi Lhakhang and the story of Lama Drukpa Kunley, the Divine Madman.

And the phalluses.

They seemed to be everywhere: painted on buildings, hanging from houses and appearing in various shapes and sizes.

Needless to say, they provided plenty of laughter on the coach.

Bhutan certainly has a sense of humour.

Paro and Tiger’s Nest – Paro Taktsang

Tiger’s Nest is the hike almost everyone does in Bhutan. The trail is well trodden, the photos iconic.

What I had not anticipated was how personally the mountain would meet me, or how clearly it would remind me that spirituality arrives in many guises if you trust the universe.

We set off through the forest towards Taktshang Monastery, clinging impossibly to the cliffside high above the Paro Valley. The path wound upwards in a series of switchbacks, the air cooler and thinner with every step, prayer flags fluttering in the trees.

Somewhere along the way, just before I realised I had gone off piste, I slipped.

It happened quickly: a misjudged step, the rough scrape of rock, then a sharp sting and the sight of blood pouring from a deep cut in my left elbow.

For a moment everything went quiet. It was not just the physical pain that shook me, it was the jolt to my core. My body suddenly felt vulnerable, my footing uncertain, and the mountain that had felt challenging now felt slightly menacing.

I cleaned myself up as best I could and carried on, but something inside me felt off balance.

Not long after that, I realised I had lost the trail.

And not by a little.

On the path to one of Bhutan’s most sacred places, by the time I realised what had happened, I had gone some 4,000 steps off piste.

The combination of the fall, the blood, and now being so far from where I was meant to be left me feeling shaken. I was no longer just a hiker tackling a famous trail, I was a little girl again on a mountain that suddenly felt very big.

At precisely the moment I needed help, a complete stranger appeared: another trekker, not part of our group, who had also strayed from the main trail.

For me, there was something deeply spiritual about that.

I did not see it as a lucky coincidence, but as someone who was meant to be lost too so that he could bring me down safely.

We had spent days hearing Buddhist teachings about kindness, compassion and karma, and in that moment they felt very real and very present. My bruised elbow, my shaken confidence and this unexpected guide all became part of the same lesson.

When I finally reached Tiger’s Nest – Paro Taktsang – the emotion of it all caught up with me. I burst into tears, simply overwhelmed and deeply moved.

Inside the inner temples, the mood shifted again.

We stepped into cool, dim spaces scented with butter lamps, the walls alive with ancient paintings and gold. As the monks were chanting, their sound wrapped itself around the room: low, rhythmic and hypnotic, like a heartbeat that belonged to the mountain itself.

The disorientation I had felt on the trail, the wobble in my confidence, the sense of being off‑kilter all morning, began to settle. The chanting felt like a gentle rebalancing, as if everything that had come loose inside me on the climb was being quietly put back into place.

Tiger’s Nest became about much more than reaching an iconic monastery.

It echoed what my mum had always taught me: that spirituality comes in different guises when you need it most - you just need to have faith.

One last celebration

Our final evening brought music, dancing and a traditional Bhutanese gala dinner. We dressed in Bhutanese clothing, with the women wearing the kira.

Dawa dressed me in mine, carefully putting everything together. There was something lovely about having someone who had become such an important part of our Bhutan experience helping me get ready for our final evening.

I loved it.

Seeing everyone dressed together gave the evening a real sense of occasion and celebration and, for a little while, I felt like a princess.

On our last morning, I sent a postcard home, using one of the personalised stamps we had created in Thimphu. It felt like a small but perfect way to connect to my family back home.

When Subash first called us “family”, it was never a throwaway line. He meant it from the outset. The real question was whether we believed it.

By the time we left, I believe we all did.

Bhutan gave me a new family