Part of our Nepali adventure meant that we’d be taking a long bus ride to one of two locations. On Monday we learned that we’d be taking the 9-hour ride to Pokhara. From our research, we knew that 9-hours was conservative and often the route took up to 12 hours to navigate.
We boarded the bus at 6:45 and departed at 7 sharp. We travelled through the west end of Kathmandu over the mountains into the country side. Throughout the day we drove through the city with horns blaring, the country side with endless ups and downs, switchbacks, fires, choking dust and bumps. The rattling in the bus seemed to come from every joint and only the squeal of the breaks on the descents was louder. Unbelievably, some of us even got some sleep.
The real fun began when we arrived at our destination - Pokhara - a popular tourist destination.
If you have never travelled to developing countries, you need to understand the chaos at bus, train and plane stations. The competition in the taxi business is fierce and drivers surround each passenger like piranha - each offering the best car for “very cheap”. Our bus pulled into the terminal - the usher shouted “Last Stop” and we descended the steps to an awaiting throng of drivers. We had rides booked so began the process of declining - repeatedly - while we looked for the driver with a paper - someone with our names on a list.
Someone in our group found “the man” and we huddled around to ensure we’d be taken care of. Seeing our names on the list, I went to the back of the bus to get our bags while Gayle stayed close to the driver. We continued to get offers for rides while waiting (we were first to board the bus, so our bags were last coming off). Finally, with bags in hand, Gayle, Nick and I were led between moving busses, taxis and scooters to find our car.
Most taxis (and people) here are small (Suzuki swift) but this one was really small and old (a Chinese make that I didn’t recognize). I think Canadian wheelbarrows have bigger tires! Our backpacks ended up on the roof, Nick in the front and Gayle and I sharing the back with a little space between us - no sign of seat belts. We pulled out from the terminal with a millimetre or so to spare between us and the incoming car.
Nick required a stop to get sunscreen, so the driver pulled down a side street and dropped him off. “It’s ok to pick up my wife?”, he asked us. We didn’t really understand fully, however, we agreed that it would be fine. We proceeded a little further and then pulled a U-turn, stopped in the middle of the street. The driver got out to go find his wife. Minutes passed as we sat in this “abandoned” taxi. An Aussie fellow walked by, waved and asked, “how you going, mate?” Unsure of our status or even what might constitute an acceptable response, I just smiled and waved. We then did what most reasonable people would have done - took a selfie.
Moments later, the driver returned, Gayle and I slid to the right and his wife got in. The seat somehow felt more comfortable. We collected Nick at the corner and headed off. We expected about a one hour ride but had no idea how far it was. We made another quick stop to pick up bread - again in the middle of the road. Over the next 45 minutes or so, the driver weaved and darted in and out of towns, around corners, though dips and straddled potholes. The horn got a good work out and I was sure the door would fly open at any second. He dodged scooters, children, bicycles, dogs and way too many cows! I had the window open and decided to wind it up (old school) a little after nearly touching a bus on the way by.
At the end of our 9+ hour exhausting bus ride, we got just the dose of adrenaline we needed to make us feel awake and alive! To top it off, the driver offered to come back and get us anytime.