During spring break, I flew halfway around the world to Bhutan, a country that strives to be the happiest place on earth. Little-known Bhutan is an isolated Himalayan kingdom nestled between India and Tibet. I traveled to Bhutan as part of a research trip with my mother and her journalist husband, who writes for the New York Times. As I traveled the country and listened to people, I thought to myself, “How can this tiny nation of 700,000, with minimal technology and few consumer goods, be happier than the so-called developed world?” On this journey, I learned about happiness and Bhutanese culture.

On my first day, I arrived in Paro, the only city with an international airport. Leaving the terminal, I saw the first of the ever-present Tibetan Buddhist prayer flags, sprouting from the hillsides. These colorful flags, bearing printed prayers, are hung in auspicious places. Every time the wind blows, the prayers are repeated, spreading good karma.

We visited Bhutan’s capital, Thimpu, home to 100,000 people. There we met the Communications Minister Kinley Dorji, who explained to us the Bhutanese government’s guiding philosophy: Gross National Happiness (GNH). Retired King Jigme Singye Wangchuck introduced GNH to emphasize that people’s happiness is more important than the country’s economic productivity. The philosophy stems from the Buddhist faith. “GNH in Bhutan is the responsibility of the government,” Dorje said. “It’s a mandate of the state and responsibility of the government to create an environment where individual citizens can pursue happiness.”

To define and measure GNH, the Bhutanese government divided the concept into four pillars: sustainable and equitable socioeconomic development, conservation of the environment, preservation and promotion of culture and good governance. With the four pillars, Bhutan hopes to achieve a stable, lasting state of happiness for its people.

That evening, we met Prime Minister Jigme Thinley. He was eloquent and happy, and spoke English better than many Americans. “I believe I’m in the business of creating happiness in a safe world,” he said. He told us that Bhutanese often choose happiness over avarice. Thinley recalled that he was teaching farmers better agricultural methods and tried to convince one farmer to grow a second crop of rice every year. The farmer said he would rather go on a pilgrimage than make a profit and declined the Thinley’s request. The experience reminded him that for Bhutanese, happiness is based on understanding when one has enough. “To bring development you must corrupt the minds of people,” he said. “You have to make them greedy.”

I traveled from Thimpu to Punakha, Bhutan’s former capital. Between the two cities lies a mountain pass called Dochula. A holy site, it has a complex of 108 Buddhist monuments known as stupas and a hillside obscured by thousands of prayer flags. Walking with Karma Singye Dorji, my guide and new friend, I happened upon a tulku, or Living Buddha. Living Buddhas are men said to be reincarnations of great Buddhist teachers and very holy. This man blessed the prayer flags we had purchased in Thimpu and we added them to the forest of dyed cotton flags.

Circumambulation, walking in circles, is akin to meditation and is a crucial aspect of Tibetan Buddhism. Losing oneself in thought and prayer while circumambulating improves collective karma, luck and happiness. Prayer wheels are common in towns, monasteries, and the government and religious centers known as dzongs. The elderly often have small, personal prayer wheels that fit into pockets. The most devout Buddhists circumambulate while spinning prayer wheels, doubling the strength of their prayers. Some holy areas have roads built around them to enable motorized circumambulation. Just as with prayer flags, Buddhists believe that with every rotation, the mantras, held inside the wheel, and the mind repeat. As I circumambulated the stupa complex, I felt a sense of clarity, calm and happiness.

Later, we headed towards the Temple of the Divine Madman but never got there. We met an old villager named Thoeba, who was making toasted rice called zao—much like Rice Krispies—over an open fire. The 61-year-old explained that his happiness is not based on material goods, but the physical well-being and safety of his family. “As long as my body is able, I will keep doing this,” he said, “My mind is free. I do it until I want to stop. If a little time is left over in the evening, I say prayers. And if there’s no time for prayers, I just pull the blanket over my head and fall asleep.”

Afterwards, he invited us to his home to have tea and ara, a rice wine similar to Japanese saki. We decided to skip the temple and accept the hospitality of Thoeba and his wife Chongnyima, two complete strangers. We sat until well after sunset, exchanging stories and gifts and drinking salty Himalayan butter tea with fresh homemade zao. Sitting with them, I appreciated the happiness the couple had, and Bhutan’s concept of Gross National Happiness.

—Dylan Paddock, a junior, is a guest writer.