Landlocked Bhutan may be best-known for its Buddhist temples, Himalayan hikes and Gross National Happiness metric, but don’t miss out on the dynamism and nightlife of its capital city. Thimphu resident Cate Kelly joins a local musician friend for a night out on the town.
It’s Friday night in one of the world’s highest capitals. At 2,317 meters (7,600 feet) elevation, soft lights blink awake, congregating in the dense valley metropolis before petering off into darkness up the mountainsides. A red glow emanates from slow traffic on Norzin Lam, the main road in central Thimphu.
Thumb-sized on the map and perched in the high Himalayas between China and India, most visitors to the Kingdom of Bhutan arrive (understandably) with visions of majestic monasteries, snowcapped mountains, and plates of Bhutan’s national dish, ema datsi, spicy chillies swimming in cheese.
And they’ll find those too, but wander into the capital as dusk falls, and you see another side to the city. Young people mingle, swapping their traditional long kira skirts and robe-like gho for clubwear, dresses and jeans.
Alcohol has a historical presence in the Kingdom beginning long ago with the emergence of Ara in the east, a strong spirit made from fermented rice. Drinking culture prospers in Bhutanese society, often acting as a portal to socializing and letting loose. Warm bars glow with live music, the sound of laughter and jovial imbibing of the country’s beloved Druk Lager trickles outside, and karaoke bars fire up the stereo. The best way to experience Bhutan after dark is to do as the locals do. Tonight, my guide is my best friend Dechen Uden Lama, a 23-year-old singer and performer who is regularly hired for events across Bhutan, from bars to weddings and festivals, and can sing in multiple languages.
I’m on my way to town in a taxi, gliding north along the curved highway within the soft hum of traffic when a message from her pops up on my phone: “You will be there tonight? Hehe.”
“Definitely,” I reply, hearting the blue box. Let the night begin.
In a crowded white tent in the open-air stone courtyard of the Royal Textile Academy, a prominent edifice at the far end of Norzin Lam , an eager hush falls over the audience as the opening notes to Honey, Honey by ABBA filter into the warm spring air.
I’ve managed to snag a ticket to the final performance of Mamma Mia, Reimagined, one of the first times a Broadway show has been brought to Bhutan, complete with a fully local cast and director. Live theater is one pillar of a growing arts industry that’s starting to pay tribute to local talent—including Dechen, who emerges on stage as the character Ally, one of the two best friends of the protagonist Sophie.
After COVID-19, businesses needed a heavier cash influx and got creative on how to attract young people once again. Live music and theme nights were announced and innovative drinks birthed. In a small place like Bhutan, novelty is currency.
“For a Broadway show to be performed in Bhutan, it shows that we are not left behind,” Dechen tells me later. “We really do have a sense of modernization. People assume just because we are wearing Gho and Kira, we are not familiar with what is happening outside Bhutan. I feel proud when we do these kinds of things.”
Adult and children allike shimmy along in the audience. I think to myself how remarkable it is that a story set in Greece, told through songs written by a band from Sweden is now being staged in Bhutan by local performers—after all, this is a country that only opened its doors to tourists in 1974.
The Grey Area, a popular haunt to kick off any evening, is a short 15-minute walk down Norzin Lam from the Royal Textile Academy, a stone’s throw from the famous traffic man of Thimphu, the substitute for traffic lights in the country (of which Bhutan has none). I perch next to Dechen in the dim bar glow, her voice still fresh—she hadn’t spoken all day up until the show, as part of a weekly ritual before she begins hours of singing.
After two years of living in Thimphu, I know where to find Dechen on Friday nights: Perched on a stool at Grey, performing covers with her band, The Aces, from 9pm to midnight. Twinkle lights hang in the window and leather chairs circle wooden tables. I stake out a seat at the bar as she warms up. Soon, the rest of the cast from the show swells into the small space, hair mussed from dancing, ready to celebrate a special, successful run of Mamma Mia, Reimagined.
Dechen began singing here four years ago, and in that period, nightlife in Thimphu has boomed. Pre-pandemic, two or three clubs or pubs took the cake for visits after 6pm, but now more than a handful line the main drag: Blackout Bar, Club Civik (formerly Blackout), Old Factory, Alchemy Pub. After COVID-19, businesses needed a heavier cash influx and got creative on how to attract young people once again. Live music and theme nights were announced and innovative drinks birthed. In a small place like Bhutan, novelty is currency.
And it worked: The enticement of new places to mingle quenched a thirst for socialization and freedom that many felt after lockdown. It’s local haunts like these that make Thimphu what it’s become. Dechen’s advice for finding the best ones? “Hit the bars after dark. Thimphu truly comes alive after the clock chimes 11pm.”
Soon, the band strikes up popular American classics. I shake my leg to the beat of Sweet Home Alabama, amused at how opposite Thimphu is from Alabama. Lynyrd Skynyrd would be proud. As the alcohol flows, strangers quickly become friends; Dechen and I are pulled up to dance. Red Panda in hand, a beer honoring one of Bhutan’s cutest endangered species, she swings her arm around me as we sway to the beat.
Out on the balcony for fresh air, the sound of car engines, shrieks of laughter and conversations in Dzongkha, Bhutan’s national language, fills the night as groups of friends flit between bars and restaurants. Back inside The Grey Area, Dechen pulls me over to where a tray is strewn with mysterious white powder and a shot of orange liquid.
“Oh, don’t worry—it’s glucose!” she tells me. “For after you take the shot.”
An adult version of Fun Dip indeed, I laugh as she leans down to suck up the sugar on the tray with a straw, a signature shot of the bar. The clock strikes midnight and much of the Mamma Mia cast waves goodbye as the last song fades, stumbling out the door to adventures beyond.
“We aren’t done yet!” Dechen says, dragging me out after them. “Onto Space!”
“You know, even after working all day, it’s therapy to go out.”
- Dechen Uden Lama
Thimphu’s oldest and most popular nightclub, Space34, is in a basement across from the Bhutan Postal Museum. After paying 350 nu each, (USD$3.66), we descend the dark staircase, our eyes adjusting to flashing neon lights and a mass of dancing bodies.
Bhutanese of all ages have come here since the early 2000s to blow off steam on weekends, reveling on the dance floor and mingling in the smoking room. The who’s-who culture of Thimphu presents itself in live action: Space34 is the place to see and be seen, especially for the younger crowd. Dechen and her friends twirl together to tunes as varied as Justin Bieber’s Baby to Desi Girl from the movie Dostana, and synthetic fog is released into the crowd every few minutes. The altitude gets you before the alcohol does, creating a dizzying dream effect.
We leave the club, stumbling out onto now tranquil streets as partygoers flow to after parties hosted in friends living rooms or to grab a late-night bite. We stop for cheese momos underneath a tree on the sidewalk, where a lady is selling the fresh, homemade dumplings with ezay, a spicy chili paste for dipping.
Wiping the grease and chili seeds from our hands, we hail a taxi home—yellow cabs are plentiful and negotiating the after-midnight rate is a light-hearted haggle after one too many Red Pandas. Dechen’s eyes are falling heavily—I’m in awe, wondering how she’s still going after a Broadway show, four hours of singing, and at least an hour of dancing.
“You know, even after working all day, it’s therapy to go out,” she says. “Bhutanese open up with alcohol; it’s like a portal through our shy culture.” And with that, she falls asleep on my shoulder as we cruise into the inky night, homeward bound.
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Cate Kelly is a blossoming travel writer with bylines in Travel + Leisure Asia and Forbes Travel Guide. She also works as a media consultant and communications manager and has formal training in anthropology focused on culture and technology. She has studied and worked across three continents and is a coffee addict and book nerd.
