It is rare these days that I get childishly excited at the anticpation of visiting a country, however, here I am on the tarmac of Paro airport taking pictures of the plane's approach, beaming from ear to ear, ticking a pivotal box in my travel adventures!

We used Uber in India for the first time heading to Kolkata airport, very efficient and timely, £2.50 to get to there in 40 minutes. The flight is 50 minutes, it's all about the landing. Youtube it, to see why? You descend in to the ascending Himalayas. Picking your way between two mountains the pilot does a sharp right, then left, then right and then, bang, you are down. The mountains look so close on either side of the wing tips. This specialist landing is only entrusted to 12 pilots in the world.

This is the first part of the trip where the travel agent is not Angelka. We are to be sheparded by Passang and, driven by Singyel. We are here because of annual Tshechu festival, which takes place over five days. Everybody is in national dress, brightly coloured fabrics with silk threads. The men wear a one piece kilt type skirt with a blousy top and shawl jauntily hanging over ther left shoulder, the ladies a sarong/sari type long skirt with wrap over jacket. A broach, or coral necklace is used to hold the lapels in place and a tapestry, rigid scarf hangs over the shoulder. The kids, too. The features are Mongolian, the skin colour varying from a golden yellow to mahogany brown. We walk up to a large outdoor performance area where a series of plays/fables are being enacted and danced. The people are charming, the event well organised with police, scouts and volunteer's instructions respected. It's incredible that 300 miles away, India is bedlam and pandemonium! It's like walking thru the wardrobe door in Narnia.... different skin, facial features, manners, plus all the other usual country identity. Where Kolkata was 80F with 80% humidity, this is 60F and not dissimilar from a nice spring day in the UK.

The fortress pictured above is dressed in a kaleidoscope of colourful flags. There are five colours, red for fire, blue for water, green for nature, white for cloud and yellow for earth. These colours are everywhere, entwined and plaited, hung over vast areas. The flags hang in swathes, from top to tail of the flag poles. There is a style of painting called Twangwe, that adorns each building, very similar to a style we saw in Seoul. Each building is similar, you are restricted on all buildings, window frames, doors, roofs with attics, no higher than 6 stories, as we are in a high earthquake zone, it's all very similar. Everybody is happy, engaging and hardly noticing the tourists amongst them. English is the second language, which everyone is keen to try out, a young girl wanted a selfie and knew exactly how to use my 'phone.

Tourists are accepted because there is a minimum spend of $250US per person/day. You can use $185 of that to offset hotels, guides etc, however, $65 goes to the Govt who provide free education to the young and free healthcare to the old. It's a lot easier to govern when the population is 750,000 with a strong, intelligent monarchy who push the progressive agenda. For instance, tourism only really took off when the internet was introduced by the King, in the late 90's. The older King abdicated for his younger son around five years ago. He, and his very attractive wife, have a two year old son and are adored, as well as known as Asia's Kate and William, who were their guests here last year! However, certain things haven't kept up. Money is via ATM and you cannot buy Bhutan Rupees in advance of coming here, and none of them are working as it's festival time and tourists/ visting popluation have drained them! Our hotel is the usual tourist type however, two things, a great chef who puts together a wonderful buffet for dinner and a staggeringly good IPA made by the Namgay Artisianal Brewery which commanded a second sample! Did I mention the naan bread?

Day 2; it's a clear, sunny, spring day. Blossom has sprung, the air is clear and sweet, I'm surrounded by the Himalayas and all is very well in my world! Today, we trek up to Tiger's Nest monastry which sits 3000m up above Paro. You have to be aware of altitude, not going at it, as well as looking all around, it's stunning. It's hard to be descriptive about a hike that is to be one of your most enjoyable travel moments, how do you find words to convey such a sensation. We stop for a cup of tea and cream crackers (?) half way there, lots of photo opportunities before making the final ascent. You cannot take photos once in the monastry. There are lots of temples (rooms) of varying beauty celebrating Buddha and various stages in the religion. Again, Bhutanese must wear national dress to enter, not exactly hiking gear, but, that adds to the splendour and gravitas. At one point, you clamber down steep wooden steps, edge between rocks before arriving at what was the tiger's nest. Fortunately, p**** cat is not at home. It is now a spot used by the monks for meditation and I can see why. The descent is equally splendid, a truly satisfying experience.

On the way back to Paro we visit a 7th Century temple, Kichu, where the gardens are full of flowering magnolia and blosson. It's a stunning building. There are two chambers, both beautiful and a great sense of purpose and well being. It's perimetre is to be like most we visit, prayer reels that you spin as you walk it's exterior with some huge ones that you turn while walking clockwise. Some have bells which chime with each circuit, usually with a very old looking chap beneath them, collcting donations which are proffered by the Bhutanese at the smallest request.

The evening is to be interesting, a hot stone bath followed by dinner in a farm house. This is no chi chi spa, baths that look like two enjoined tea boxes with a wooden gate at one end forming a grate, into which, huge coals are dropped into the bubbling cauldron. You want me to get in where?! Once navigated, having only lost one layer of skin it's perfectly fine, until you move and your skin complains of the temperature. When they come t put in another coal you do wonder about the sadistic farmer telling his mates down the pub of the torture he puts dumb tourists through every day! Once you emerge in to the chilly night, bathed in sweat as your body tries to adjust to this chasm of change, you melt upstairs to have a traditional dinner, which is ok, however, I cannot resist going for some more naan bread when we get back to the hotel!

The final day of our stay in Paro is all about the festival. Today is a Bank Holiday and the traditional costume has ratcheted up from everyday to Sunday best. You are encouraged to get up at 3.00am to get in line for a Buddhist blessing, however, I think it's totally wrong, as an aetheist, to gratuitously take a tourist opportunity in front of those who are devout. We both agree, so get up at 5.30 instead so that we can watch the unveiling of the Throngdroel, a huge pictorial banner that bedecks a three story building, as a backdrop. The courtyard is laid out like an alter with the main Abbot in attendance, and all the great and the good. Sunrise adds to the occasion and we descend the hill, for the first time of three, to have breakfast. I'm walking abreast with the Prime Minister, who, like the Abbot, is forming a greeting party for the King who had come for a walk about. Upon our return, the crowds have swelled, lots of friends taking pictures and everybody is happy. The backdrop is taken down and the dancing begins. There are to be 4 significant dances, some take at least an hour and are a mixture of breakdancing, jousting and embarrassing Dad stuff! It's the most devine and deeply symbolic of festivals, so I should not be disrespectful. Once the backdrop is down, there's another snake like queue through the site for more blessings. We watch two dances, it's quite windy and Prassang has found us two seats in a covered stand which we share with a friend of his who is in the Police Force, a job which gets you, and your family, accomodation and rations. This might explain why a reletively young chap has three young children and wellwithall. There are four clown characters that fill the gap between the proceedings, they join us in the stand and won't take "no" for an answer when it comes to a donation. Fortunately, they give change!! Descending once again for lunch, this festival going is hard work, we scour the town for an ATM which, either, recognises my card or, has any money in it. It's not to be! A final ascent and descent for the last dance and, that's it, the festival is over. There are six states in Bhutan, each having it's own similar festival, however, Paro is the daddy and might explain why the residents of Paro have a superiority complex over their neighbours from Thimphu. Our guide tells us of football games in Paro when players in the Thimphu team stop playing, to watch a plane taking off, a new experience for them.

It's a great occasion, these are a proud, delightful people, who celebrate their culture magnificently. It's an honour to be here and one that has definitely been worth waiting for!