The People of Bhutan: A Visit 20 Years Later — What Has Changed?

It was December 2006. I was 31 years old, somewhere between a backpacker and a proper traveller, and Bhutan felt like the most surreal place I had ever set foot in. Not because of the mountains — though they were extraordinary — but because of the people.

A Kingdom That Measures Happiness

Bhutan is the only country in the world that measures Gross National Happiness (GNH) instead of Gross Domestic Product. That tells you something right away. When I arrived in 2006, the country had only recently opened to tourism in any meaningful sense. You couldn't just book a flight and wander in. You had to go through an approved operator, pay a daily fee, and in return, the country gave you something almost impossible to find elsewhere: authenticity.

The Bhutanese I met were unhurried. Not lazy — far from it. But there was no frantic energy, no sense that everyone was racing against a clock. Farmers worked their terraced fields. Monks chanted in dzongs. Children in ghos and kiras walked to school along mountain paths. Life moved at the pace that life was meant to move.

Tiger's Nest (Paro Taktsang) Monastery, Bhutan — December 2006. One of the most extraordinary places I have ever seen.

The Tiger's Nest — More Than a Photo

I remember the hike up to Paro Taktsang — the Tiger's Nest Monastery — like it was yesterday. The path winds through pine forests draped in prayer flags, the air thin and cold and incredibly clear. And then you round a corner and there it is: a cluster of sacred buildings clinging impossibly to a sheer rock face, 900 metres above the Paro Valley floor.

Legend has it that Guru Rinpoche — Padmasambhava — flew to this cliff on the back of a tigress in the 8th century to meditate and subdue demons. Standing there in 2006, you believed every word of it. The place radiates something ancient and powerful. The monks I encountered were gracious but not eager to perform for my camera. That restraint felt respectful — a reminder that this was their home, not a tourist attraction.

The trail has since been improved — hiking time reportedly shortened, facilities added. Progress, yes. But I hope the soul of that climb remains.

The Dress Code That Isn't Oppressive

One of the things that struck me most was the national dress. In Bhutan, wearing the traditional gho (for men) and kira (for women) is mandatory at dzongs, monasteries, and official buildings. What surprised me was how natural it looked — not a performative tradition for tourists, but everyday clothing worn with genuine pride.

A guide I travelled with explained it simply: "Our dress is who we are. Why would we want to look like everyone else?" That sentiment, I think, captures Bhutan's entire philosophy toward modernisation. They want progress — hospitals, schools, roads, internet — but on their own terms, without losing what makes them distinctly themselves.

20 Years Later — What Has Changed?

I haven't been back yet. But I've been reading, talking to people who have, and wondering. The honest answer is: a great deal has changed, and yet the fundamentals appear intact.

Television and smartphones arrived. Bhutan banned television until 1999, and when I visited in 2006, it was still a novelty. Today, young Bhutanese are as online as anyone. Instagram, TikTok, Netflix — it's all there. How this affects the famous tranquillity of Bhutanese life is an open question.

Tourism has grown — but carefully. Bhutan raised its Sustainable Development Fee to $200 per person per night in 2022 (from $65 when I visited). The intent is to keep tourist numbers low and impact minimal. It's a bold and controversial strategy, but it signals a country that genuinely does not want to be overrun.

The economy has modernised. Hydropower now supplies most of the country's electricity and is the main export earner. A growing middle class is emerging in Thimphu and Paro. Yet rural life — the terraced rice paddies, the yak herders of the high valleys — continues much as before.

Climate change is hitting hard. Glacial lake outburst floods (GLOFs) are an increasing threat. The same glaciers that feed rivers and inspire awe are retreating. For a country that has done almost nothing to cause climate change, it is bearing a disproportionate burden of its consequences.

The Warmth That I Hope Remains

What I think about most, when I think about Bhutan, is not the landscape — stunning as it was — but the quality of human contact. A cup of butter tea pressed into my hands by an elderly woman who spoke no English. A monk who sat with me silently for twenty minutes watching the valley below and seemed entirely content. A farmer who laughed loudly at my clumsy attempt to help carry a load of firewood.

These were not performed for tourists. They were just how people were.

I'd like to go back. To see the Tiger's Nest again — older, and perhaps wiser enough to appreciate it differently. To find out whether the GNH philosophy has survived the smartphone age. To drink more butter tea.

If you've ever had the chance to visit Bhutan — whether in 2006 or 2026 — I'd love to hear your experience. Drop me a message on the platform. The Land of the Thunder Dragon deserves more conversation than it gets.

— philipp, April 2026 · Switzerland 🇨🇭 · Visited Bhutan: December 2006