This photo of a Buddist wheel-of-life mandala at Punaka Dzong is by Leo Farrelly, whose collection on Webshots is here.

Bhutan: Hidden Lands of Happiness
By John Wehrheim
Published by Serindia, 2008

The magic spell this high country casts on foreigners goes far beyond its handsome royalty, and here in words and photographs is a moving portrait of a place unlike any other in this world. My review for The Nation, published on February 24.

This coffee-table journey through Druk Yul, as the Tibetans know their lucky southern neighbour – Land of the Thunder Dragon – is a terrific collection of photographs and traditional lore woven into John Wehrheim’s engaging travelogue.

The American – who unabashedly lists “cannabis sativa horticulturalist” among his prior occupations, thus proving that former potheads can indeed produce works of art – has visited Bhutan several times over the past 15 years, primarily as a consulting hydrologist, and he’s seen pretty much all of it the hard way, on foot.

From the point of view of readers in Thailand, his timing with this release is fairly accurate in the wake of the Bhutan fever that struck when handsome Jigme Kheshar Namyal Wangchuk attended His Majesty the King’s anniversary celebrations in 2006. The young prince has since, of course, become the ruler of his own kingdom, and on March 24 will look on as its first general election is held.

Adding to Thai interest is the call, from some quarters at least, to adopt Bhutan’s practice of measuring Gross National Happiness instead of Gross National Product as an indicator of how well the country is faring. It’s a nice idea, if a little airy. As peaceful as Bhutan is at the moment, Wehrheim’s short history tracks hostilities with China and India into very recent years.

Still, by grace and fortitude, the little kingdom – well under a million people in a country the size of Switzerland – has not been rendered asunder like Tibet, Nepal and Sikkim, although television finally sneaked across its frontier in 1999, so perhaps we should stay alert to what democracy and the Internet will foment.

The capital, Thimphu, could be Chiang Mai, complete with trendy nightclubs, but there are as yet no McDonald’s or Starbucks and no buildings taller than five storeys.

Wehrheim’s text represents a very personal account of wending his way across the interior, meeting the locals and listening to their stories. It is straightforward, but can’t help but be compelling given the beautifully illustrated landscape and the rural realities of living in it. He is also as good a writer as he is a photographer, at once vivid, meditative and playful:

“The memorial that we sit above was built without images of heroes or weapons or even mention of the war. In Bhutan heroes are born from a lotus, ride flying tigers or live as mad, bawdy tramps. A cannibal demoness becomes a protecting spirit; a lecherous drunk leads a nun to enlightenment. But no mythic hero causes others to suffer. Every blood sacrifice is brought back to life. The memorial is called ‘Great Victory’, named in a country where a hero’s greatest victors are over ignorance and delusion.”

The enlightening drunk to whom he refers is Drukpa Kinley, the lusty vagabond monk who fostered Bhutan’s Tantric Buddhism and became its national saint. You can tell that this favoured creation myth appeals to Wehrheim, who admits to specialising in “exotic locations and beautiful women”. So be comfortable with a few ribald tales retold and a peekaboo visit to one of the tsha chu, as the country’s numerous hot springs are called.

But amid the fun and good cheer, Wehrheim is careful not to romanticise Bhutan too much. The Shangri-La charm of the place is tempered with pragmatism, and brought fully down to earth in a sobering quote from the Dalai Lama:

“We must careful not to idealise the old ways of life. The high level of cooperation we find in undeveloped rural communities may be based more on necessity than on goodwill … And the contentment we perceive may actually have more to do with ignorance. These people may not realise or imagine that any other way of life is possible. If they did, very likely they would embrace it eagerly. The challenge we face is, therefore, to find some means of enjoying the same degree of harmony and tranquillity as those more traditional communities, while benefiting fully from the material developments of the world as we find it.”

That understood, it is hard to imagine anywhere else that remains, however tentatively, what the Himalayan folksongs call a beyul – a magical land visible only to those of pure heart.

“When flying to Bhutan from Dacca or Calcutta,” Wehrheim writes, “one looks down on crowded, smoky, overworked lands. At Bhutan’s border that vision suddenly gives way to deep blue sky and empty mountains with no roads and no settlements.”

Nowhere in the book could I find an explanation as to why all the photos are black and white. Certainly the tones serve the documentary maker well and give the portraits inarguable nobility, but I would have loved to see the landscape in colour. Apart from that tiny murmur of dismay, this is a wonderful book – for anyone who’s visited Bhutan and for those who see it in their dreams.