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| source : expedia.co.id |
I never planned on moving to Bhutan.
In fact, back in the ‘90s, I was living a pretty fast-paced life in Nashville as a freelance writer. Deadlines. Bills. Rushing from one gig to the next. But something inside me needed a pause. Not a vacation, something deeper. A reset.
That’s how I found myself landing in a Himalayan valley in 1994, breathing in the crisp, untouched air of Bhutan for the very first time. I had no idea this trip would change every part of my life, from how I see the world to who I’d fall in love with.
Bhutan didn’t just welcome me, it woke me up
There’s something almost sacred about that first arrival. I flew into Paro, where the iconic Tiger’s Nest monastery clings impossibly to the cliffs. It felt like I’d stepped into a fairytale I never knew I was missing.
The air? Unbelievably clean, Bhutan is literally the only carbon-negative country on Earth. But more than that, it was the stillness. The presence. The kindness of strangers offering rides or simply smiling as they passed on mountain trails.
As I hiked through valleys, visited centuries-old temples, and handed out fruit to locals who greeted me with gratitude, I realized I was experiencing something I’d been craving for years: spaciousness. Not just in the landscape, but in my mind.
From a short trip to a full-on life change
By the time I flew back to the States, I knew I couldn’t go back to “normal.” I canceled my plan to buy property in Nashville and started planning something far more unconventional: a permanent move to Bhutan.
Three visits and three years later, I packed up everything I knew and left it behind.
I got a teaching job at a cultural school in Thimphu. The following year, I started working at the National Art School. And it was there, in a humble classroom, that I met Namgay.
Love, in a place I never expected
Namgay wasn’t flashy. He was kind, quiet, and wore his traditional gho with the kind of grace you don’t see every day. We spent a lot of time just… talking. Drinking tea. Teaching each other bits of English and Dzongkha. It was simple, easy, and deeply comforting.
I didn’t expect romance. I honestly assumed our differences, culturally, religiously, were too big to cross. But one day, as we were flipping through a textbook, he pointed to a government department and said, “We need to do this.”
It was the marriage registry.
And just like that, we were engaged. Namgay’s family embraced me. And yes, in true Bhutanese fashion, his late father, who was an astrologer, had apparently predicted he’d marry a woman from far away later in life. That’s exactly what happened.
A twist I didn’t see coming
A few years into our marriage, Namgay casually asked, “Do you remember when we first met?” I thought he meant the art school.
But he said, “No, when I gave you a ride on my motorbike. You had hurt your ankle.”
My jaw dropped. The stranger who helped me on my very first visit to Bhutan... was him.
Tell me fate doesn’t have a sense of humor.
A slower, richer kind of living
We adopted our daughter Kinlay a few years later, another beautiful surprise. She’s now thriving in nursing school in Australia, and I can’t imagine life without her.
Living here has taught me so much about time. In Bhutan, you don’t say, “Let’s meet at 2:15 sharp.” You say, “Let’s meet Wednesday,” and that’s enough. As someone who used to plan her days to the minute, this was a huge (and healing) adjustment.
Our water wasn’t 24/7. I washed my clothes in a bucket. We still boil our drinking water. These little inconveniences? They became rituals, quiet moments that gently demanded I slow down.
Gross National Happiness > GDP
Bhutan doesn’t measure success by money. Instead, the country runs on a philosophy called Gross National Happiness, where the health of people, the environment, and culture matters more than economic growth.
That mindset has shaped everything for me.
I’ve written two books about my journey here (Married to Bhutan and A Field Guide to Happiness), and what I’ve realized is this: you don’t have to chase a high-speed life to feel fulfilled. Sometimes the magic is in the pause.
Life today
Namgay and I now live in the hills above Thimphu, surrounded by cherry blossoms and willows. His art studio is filled with canvases that blend Buddhist tradition with his obsession with space rockets, a wild and wonderful combo.
Friends visit from the US. They cry when they leave.
And I get it. Bhutan is healing.
It’s not just the forests or the fresh air. It’s the values: kindness, simplicity, presence. It’s the way people look you in the eye when they talk to you. It’s the way the mountains make you feel small and safe at the same time.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my leap of faith all those years ago, it’s this:
Sometimes, when life gets too loud, the best thing you can do is go somewhere quiet, and listen.