When luxury-hotel entrepreneur Adrian Zecha visited one of his project's construction sites here this summer and yelled at a construction foreman about recurring project delays, Bhutanese project engineer Lhaba Dorji hid in a nearby building -- an unsurprising reaction in that the devoutly Buddhist Bhutanese mostly recoil from confrontation.
Mr. Dorji still grimaces at the memory of Mr. Zecha's outburst. "He was supposed to stay overnight, but he was so mad he left later that same day," Mr. Dorji recalls.
Mr. Zecha brushes the rant off. "I was upset -- very little progress had been done in the two months since my last visit," says Mr. Zecha, who has just opened Amankora Paro, first of the six five-star properties he plans to build in this isolated country. Founder of Singapore-based Amanresorts, Mr. Zecha has carved a niche in the travel industry by building luxurious retreats in remote spots aimed at people willing to pay as much as $4,000 a night.
The behind-the-scenes story of Mr. Zecha's ambitious $20 million Bhutan project -- the country's first international hotel -- offers a perspective of the booming global resort business that affluent guests who check in for spa treatments and pool time are unlikely ever to see. Companies must not only struggle with the logistics of building and maintaining resorts in often remote sites, they must also navigate cultural sensitivities.
Many of the issues that Mr. Zecha has had to address to get his Bhutan project off the ground, including a lack of infrastructure and naive and inexperienced local staff, are typical of those faced by resort builders working in any developing country. But the cultural encounters and clashes that have punctuated the development -- such as the outburst that upset Mr. Dorji -- are more peculiar to Bhutan, largely due to the country's Buddhist national character and its generations of isolation.
Until the 1960s, the tiny kingdom -- sandwiched in the Himalayas between Tibet, Nepal and India -- was completely cut off from the rest of the world. Even today, only 7,000 tourists visit the country each year. Television didn't arrive until 1999.
For local staff, basic technology has been a source of wonderment -- and alarm. Some thought a vacuum cleaner was meant to warm food. Others, who refuse to swat flies in deference to their Buddhist beliefs, have been perturbed by an electronic bug-zapper deployed to kill flies in the kitchen. "But you cannot do something that has never been done before and not at least subconsciously expect the unforeseen," says Mr. Zecha, who has built resorts in countries including Indonesia, Thailand, Cambodia, Morocco and Mexico.
Mr. Zecha, who is 71 years old, says he didn't even think about the potential risks when he started the Bhutanese venture. "We do this sort of thing all the time," he says. "What makes it special in Bhutan is that no one else has been there before."
He took Bhutanese national carrier Druk Air's first flight from Bangkok to Paro 13 years ago. "I fell in love with it," he says of the pristine country. He started to lobby the Bhutanese government to allow him into the country to develop a resort. Three years ago, he was rewarded for his tenacity when the government invited him to establish the country's first international hotel in partnership with Bhutan Tourism Corp.
Mr. Zecha and his Australian-born, Singapore-based architect, Kerry Hill, dreamed up a series of six Aman lodges across the country, which would allow guests to trek between the properties, along the way exploring remote valleys and high passes; the capital, Thimphu; and landscapes of dzongs (fortified temples), villages, rivers and rice paddies.
The project was supposed to take one year. "It was a pipe dream ... we've obviously learned that," admits Mr. Zecha. Two years into construction, only the property in Paro is complete. Set in a grove of pines, it includes a main lodge and spa and can accommodate 24 guests.
But little wonder that the deadline has been stretched: Even though the Bhutanese mostly speak English and the resort is using local construction techniques, Bhutan is beset with logistics problems. The country has no garbage-collection service. The narrow road to the Indian border is full of potholes and frequently blocked by mountain landslides -- all food and most supplies for the resort must be brought in on two planes, the only air transportation into Bhutan.
Almost every road shipment for the project -- from bathroom fixtures to windowpanes -- was damaged during the bumpy ride from the border. Some of the Amanresorts sites in Bhutan lack road access.
The picturesque building site in Punakha is only reachable by crossing a raging river. The first attempt to build a suspension bridge to give access ended in disaster last year when a flash flood swept away the concrete. Materials and manpower are now transported across by an unpredictable cable car -- which on one occasion broke down, leaving Mr. Hill dangling over the river at dusk for more than an hour.
Another factor: Amanresorts' exacting standards. Imported Indian building crews were so inexperienced that to gain the architect's approval, entire rooms had to be torn out and redone not just once, but two or three times.
But cultural issues might, in the end, turn out to be more difficult to tackle than mere logistics. For one thing, whereas new employees in other countries might hesitate to challenge their bosses, the Bhutanese unabashedly question everything.
First came a staff revolt over the seasoning of dishes. Bhutanese cuisine uses chilies liberally, and when the decision was made to reduce the chili quotient of local dishes on the menu, Bhutanese staff members were offended. They asked: "It doesn't taste like our food, so how can you serve it?" Meanwhile, Australian chef Warren Burns, on loan from Amanpulo in the Philippines, has struggled to find kitchen staff willing to do the dirty work and wash dishes. "I'm constantly getting, 'You are not Bhutanese, you should be respectful of us.' "
Amanresorts has factored what has been dubbed "Bhutanese pride" into its training sessions of local staff. Trainers, for example, get down on their hands and knees to show that cleaning is not beneath them. Their goal? To teach the staff pride in all aspects of the job.
"Bhutan is a unique challenge because it was closed off from the world and was very self-sufficient," says training manager Anneke Brown. "It's hard to get a new idea across like: 'Why wash uniforms every day?' " Ms. Brown says.
Bhutan is considered a developing country with a low average wage and increasing competition for jobs as rural migrants flood into towns like Thimphu and Paro. Still, many unemployed potential recruits have been indifferent to the jobs offered by Amankora and rival resort project Uma Paro, which pay above the country's average wage but less than jobs in the public sector (the average monthly salary at Amanresorts, for example, is between $87 and $144).
But there is little doubt that the Amankora resort and Uma Paro, which is expected to be completed in October, will have an indelible effect on both local staff and the country in many ways.
Ugyen Choden, for example, applied for a job in the resort's spa, even though she had no idea what a spa was. Aman recruiters explained to the 18-year-old that "it was skin-to-skin contact but that there was nothing wrong [and] that we could help people relieve their pain," she says. Even though some members of her family are unhappy about her having the job, claiming it is "dirty," Ms. Choden is now giving neck massages to her uncle, a monk, when she's at home.
Amanresorts and Uma Paro may have opened the tourism floodgates: The Bhutanese government wants to double the number of visitors coming to the country in the next two years.
There are fears about the effect on the environment. But there's no turning back. "Until Bhutan entered the world, Bhutanese were quite happy with the little they had," says Bhutanese Prime Minister Lyonpo Jigme Thinley. But, he says, "we've entered the globalization process. You have to peek over the fence and walk on the lawn on the other side. It's part of human nature."