For 10 years, Bhutan was right up there as No 1 on my top 10 list of places to visit.

Intrigued by stories of this little mystical hermit kingdom untouched by modernity and thoroughly enchanted by the films of Bhutanese director Khyentse Norbu (The Cup, Travellers And Magicians), I was, sadly, put off by how much you had to fork out just to put one foot in there.
 
The US$200 a day required by the government was no small change.

But when I heard it was upping its tariff next year, there was no time to lose.

Word is that it will cost an extra $50 a day from the middle of next year, although it still covers everything: accommodation, food, land transport, the services of a guide and even trekking, if you so desire.

Government-approved lodges selected by your tour operator are by no means luxurious, but they are clean, comfortable and well-managed.

Meals, too, are often eaten at hotels or restaurants catering to tourists.

If you want five-star comfort, you will have to pay extra for the handful of luxury resorts such as Amankora, Zhiwa Ling and Uma Paro, where Hong Kong stars Tony Leung Chiu Wai and Carina Lau got married.

So why go to Bhutan when neighbouring Nepal and Tibet offer just about everything it does--spectacular scenery, better trekking infrastructure and more temples and monasteries than you can count--and at a 10th of the price?

The answer to that, if you ask me, is: to be among the happiest people on earth.

The Bhutanese, most of whom are poor subsistence farmers, may rank at No 127 in the gross national income per capita world stakes.

But its Gross National Happiness--a non-quantifiable concept developed by its former King Jigme Singye Wangchuck in 1972--has become a guiding principle in all political and social decisions.

My guide, Dolay Tshering, an indomitably cheerful 26-year-old, speaks nothing of wanting to make lots of money, but of desiring more flexible time to help out on his family's potato farm in Haa, about three hours from the city of Paro.

He seeks simple pleasures in life, such as archery, the national sport, or going hiking and fishing with his friends.

Indeed, everywhere you go in Bhutan, shy smiles greet you. No one will ask you for money or even try to sell you anything. Everyone readily poses for pictures. And village kids will reach into their bags for a fruit for you.

Such infectious contentment aside, time seems to have stood still in this beautifully pristine land where the national dress is de rigueur, all buildings come in traditional Bhutanese architecture and no traffic lights exist, even though the car population has grown.

Wearing the national dress is required by law. Men wear a gho, a belted knee-length robe that comes with large white cuffs, while the women wear a kira, an ankle-length dress made up of a rectangular piece of woven fabric wrapped around the body.

Up until the 1960s, there were no paved roads, no local currency and official policy sealed off the country from the rest of the world.

Modernity has since found its way here when the government decided it needed to open up to survive, albeit through cautious reforms to preserve the country's heritage and ecology.

Mobile phones are now common accessories in the cities; even Buddhist monks are prone to checking their SMSes. But you still do not get much television outside the capital city of Thimphu. TV was introduced only in 1999 and there is limited local content from the Bhutan Broadcasting Service.

Tobacco sales, plastic bags and street advertising are banned. This is my idea of Utopia, here in the Land of the Thunder Dragon or Druk Yul.

I tried to temper my romanticised expectations before I hopped on the Druk Air plane in Bangkok four weeks ago.

The last thing I wanted was for my 10-year bubble to burst. And since I was spending nearly S$5,000 (US$3,277) on my 11-day trip, it had better be worth every penny.

Do ask for a window seat on the left and look beyond the fluffy white clouds. You will see the snow-capped Himalayan mountain range--including Everest--before you touch down at Paro Airport.

Sandwiched between India and China, the diminutive Bhutan, the size of Switzerland, has managed to keep intact its rich and colourful traditions.

Chillies in cheese sauce

Tsechu--religious festivals featuring masked dance rituals--still figure prominently on the Buddhist kingdom's social calendar, and they are by no means performed for the viewing pleasure of tourists.

While the national language is Dzongkha, you will have little trouble getting understood in English since it is the medium of instruction in schools.

Although you are not going to get much by way of international cuisine, Bhutanese food will appeal to the Singaporean palate.

Buckwheat noodles, rice with an assortment of vegetables and--my best culinary discovery this year--ema datse which is the national dish of chillies in cheese sauce, all kept my vegetarian tummy quite contented.

Somewhere between my visit to the first dzong--fortress-monasteries that also house the region's administration--and trek through the lush, mountainous Bumthang valley in central Bhutan, I knew I had come to the right place.

The combination of Bhutan's exotic Tantric Buddhism practices, unspoilt culture and stunning scenes of snow-veiled peaks, rhodondendron forests and crystal rivers were simply too magical to resist.

When I told an adventurous and well-travelled friend about Bhutan's tourism policy--no independent travel allowed, only guided tours with a pre-planned itinerary--he was not terribly impressed.

But for the middle-aged tourists that form the overwhelming majority of Bhutan's sightseeing customers, such a stress- and hassle-free way of travelling through the country must be a boon.

A comfortable ride, often a new Hyundai Tucson or a minibus, a guide who will fill you in on the myriad mythologies of the land and no rude surprises anywhere--what's not to like?

But do not expect a lot of activities, especially if you do not plan on trekking.

Dzongs, monasteries and temples are staples on every itinerary, and as Dolay pointed out quite prophetically on my first day, "you'll be dzonged-out by the end of the trip".

Most people who come to Bhutan do not trek and you wonder why. Sure, you are going to have to sleep in tents and eat camp food prepared by the trekking crew, because there are no lodges along the way.

But the makeshift facilities are perfectly adequate, even comfortable, and the scenery is stunning. Best of all, you are not likely to meet other groups trampling up and down the trails.

You will, however, bump into familiar faces as you move from town to town, since only one road connects the vital tourist points of Paro, Thimphu, Trongsa and Bumthang.

Tourism is big money-spinner

The name, Bhutan, no longer draws blank looks from people, thanks in part to Carina and Tony, although many still have fuzzy ideas about where exactly it is: "It's in Nepal, right?"

Dolay told me since the two Hong Kong stars got hitched at the luxurious hilltop resort of Uma Paro in July, Hong Kong tourists have gone up in numbers.

That, and the recent coronation of its fifth king, 28-year-old Jigme Khesar Namgyel Wangchuck, have propelled the tiny country of 700,000 into the world's limelight.

The biggest misconception about Bhutan, perhaps, is that the government slaps a quota on the number of tourists a year.

Despite hosting just 21,000 visitors last year, tourism is the kingdom's second largest money-spinner. The first is hydroelectricity, which it exports to best friend India and which accounts for more than half of the government's total revenue.

Thanks to its prohibitive cost and rigid tourism structure, the country has managed to keep out the riff-raff travellers.

Backpackers, adventure-seekers and hippie types continue to flock to Nepal and India, sometimes doing the Himalayan circuit which includes Sikkim and Tibet, but completely giving Bhutan a miss.

More than 80 per cent of those who do find their way here come during the months of March to May and September to November, mostly for the festivals and the mild air.

I will be back too, since I left my heart in Bhutan.