Arriving in Bhutan feels a bit like arriving to one of these forgotten Greek island airports. You get out of your narrow seat, say thanks to the hostess and the pilot, they go for a quick coffee on a plastic cup if there is a canteen and you go down the stairs of the small airplane, carrying your own staff to the terminal, among other surprised but happy looking foreigners and a handful of locals that did not stop turning their prayer wheels and murmuring religious songs during the trip. Small plane, high mountains, better be on the safe side...

In my case, coming from Tribhuvan, the horrendous Nepal international airport, it also felt like a purification: no crowds of dubious porters trying to push my trolley for a quick buck, no taxi drivers with criminal faces and rotten cars, no pollution. Just some high clouds, lots of space and a quick but effective check out of the airport.

And then comes the best surprise: Being welcomed by men in skirts! No fussing, just neat people in their local dress, with a smile on their faces and a signage in their hands . One of them with my name on it, held by a very young man and a slightly older driver that looked at least as aristocratic as Sir Lawrence Olivier, albeit with a darker complexion...

And off we were, for an adventurous 10 days in the last Shangri-La. A very special place that gets even more that as you get to speak with the few locals that you are about to meet, and of course your keepers, appointed to keep you safe and guide your steps in a sometimes quite restricting manner.

I hope you enjoy the pics as much as I enjoyed the trip!