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Exceedingly early morning, considering I am on holiday: up at 05:00. Once at the airport, I am faced with the usual mind-boggling burocracy, get papers from left, go to right and get a stamp, pay in centre, bring luggage at front for security check, get another stamp, go and get tag on baggage at front left, bring luggage at rear where my paper is taken, etc..
 
Of course, the paper for the visa for Bhutan is not waiting for me as was planned. This means we need to call the agency in Bhutan to get the number; bad luck, both the people in charge of it are in Bangkok and unreachable. After much phoning and begging, the under secretary for tourism confirms that they are waiting for me.
 
I am allowed to board the plane.

Paro, Thursday the 4th of August

Degrubenc
2005-12-09 17:57:05

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the destruction of my carefully packed rucksack on the tarmac, etc…

Then, the Bhutanese security arrives. At first, I am intrigued by their national costume. It was introduced during the 17th century by Shabdrung Ngawang Namgyel to give the Bhutanese a unique identity. I can assure that you that it is unique: it looks very 17th century. The dress for men is called a gho, it is a long robe hoisted to the knee and held in place with a kera, a woven cloth belt, wound tightly around the waist. The end result looks like a skirt barely reaching the knees. To cover their lower legs they wear knee-high black socks with black shoes.

Somehow, they remind me of the old European aristocracy with tights. They all wear large scarves draped around their right arm as a symbol of position, different colours for different offices. The Bhutanese people have to wear it every day and wear their scarves when going to work, temple or official ceremonies. I find it terribly smart and colourful.

I am politely required to change seats and retire to the back of the business class section. The red carpet is unrolled, the Bhutanese guards stand in line by the carpet, the Indian band starts playing, the stewardess get nervous and giggle furiously, the doors open and a crowd comes out.

Admist the crowd is the king, recognisable by his yellow scarf surrounded by the blue scarves of the security. They approach the aircraft, bid fond farewells to the local dignitaries, and step into the plane. The man himself is there, His Majesty the 4th King of Bhutan. He sits down on the first row, the rest of his delegation spreads into the cabin. The only seat left empty is next to mine: I ought to have showered in the morning, one chap considered sitting next to me but thought better of it. I am the only foreigner in the plane, it seems that all the others are Bhutanse as they are all dressed in their gho. We are served a delicious ...