Published by Broadway Paperbacks, 2011, 293 pages

Lisa Napoli was working at a radio station in Los Angeles, dissatisfied with her life, when a chance encounter led her to a radio job in Thimpu, the capital of Bhutan. All she knew about the country was that it had a Gross National Happiness index.

She is picked up at the airport by Ngawang, a bubbly young woman who works at the radio station.

The harrowing ride from the airport gives Napoli her first glimpse of the country: the spectacular mountains, the royal blue signs in English and Dzongkha (the Bhutanese language), and the beautiful houses with “sloping roofs and ornately carved orange wooden frames around the windows”, many with giant phalluses painted on the sides. “People will be too ashamed to look and to covet what they don’t have,” explains Ngawang.

The radio station, located in a disused kitchen, is called Kuzoo FM (after kuzu zampo, the Dzongkha greeting) and caters to Bhutanese youth, broadcasting a mix of music (mostly Western pop, downloaded illegally) and information programmes. It is run by a group of young volunteers, including Ngawang, Pema (dubbed Oprah by Napoli for her love of being on the air) and Pink, who works as a DJ at night. Its popularity is also due to participation by the audience, who call in with comments or even sing on the airwaves. Napoli’s job was to help make the station more professional.

Bhutan is unlike most other countries: it had been closed to the outside world for many years, and there are still restrictions on the number of tourists allowed in. Napoli was there during a time of major change. Bhutan was starting to open up, with all the risks that exposure to Western culture brings. It had held its first election after transitioning from monarchy to democracy—a change decided by the king rather than the people.

Not only do we glimpse Bhutan through a first-time visitor, but the gaze is reversed when Ngawang visits Napoli in Los Angeles. Things that Napoli takes for granted fascinate Ngawang: a drive-in fast-food joint, the beach (“it’s bigger than it seems on television!”) and Napoli’s tiny apartment with no garden. This perception of each culture by the other gives the book another dimension.

Napoli is good observer and obviously loves the country and the people. I suspect she will have a life-long relationship with the country. After all, there is no word for good-bye in Dzongkha.

This review first appeared on Women on the Road.