Promised LAND

On a week-long immersion in Bhutan, the world's first carbon-negative country, a lifelong city-dweller catches a glimpse of a more enlightened way of life.

- CHANDREYEE RAY

A private joke I have with myself when visiting a new country is identifying all the ways in which its airport is a reflection of its character. Busy cities, like Singapore, have even busier airports, with massive digital billboards touting luxury perfumes at every turn. An island like Koh Samui, meanwhile, has an airport that feels like a temporal resort, with boutiques sitting along an open boardwalk lined with palm trees swaying in the ocean breeze.

When I arrive in Bhutan, the first thing I notice about its airport is the absence of any advertisements. There are no wall wraps, no billboards, not even a banner stuck to the back of a trolley. Instead, the walls are covered with intricate murals and local art—created by over 60 Bhutanese artists, as I find out—and interesting architectural features modelled after the country’s landscape.

As beautiful as it is, Paro International Airport’s reputation precedes it. One of the highest airports in the world, with an altitude of 7,300ft above sea level, it is surrounded by high mountain peaks, which makes it notoriously challenging for pilots to land at. I don’t suffer from flight anxiety in general, but I hardly notice when we land—perhaps it’s because I’m engrossed in Banana Yoshimoto’s Kitchen, but also owing to the pilot’s expertise. I hear from a local guide later on that there are maybe only 25 pilots in the world who are qualified to land on that narrow runway. Most of them fly for Drukair, Bhutan’s first national airline and the same one I took.