I’ve been trying to write a few blog posts about the semester break I just finished two days ago, but I didn’t like my writing. It didn’t seem fluid enough to tell such a great story. When my friend back at UBC, Sabrina, finally had the time to have a chat, I had a great chance to tell one of the stories from my trip grand adventure to one, live person.

Some background: Pokhara is the second-largest city in Nepal, a tourist center close to the Annapurna range of the Himalayas. We (Alex, Jerry, and I) had had a hell of a time there already, and now Alex and I needed to get to Kolkata.

Sabrina is an awesome friend back home from Science One. We don’t talk often enough, and when we do, we’ve done enough with our lives to relate crazy tales about what’s transpired between chats that we can write multiple blog posts about them. This is part of one of those chats.

me: okay

pick a story

the Pokhara scooter ride

the bus and train ride from hell

12:16 PM the Sundarban Tiger Reserve, the British girl, and the best night of the trip

12:17 PM Sabrina: in honor of halloween….the british girl

jk lol

tell me your favorite

me:  I promise I’ll write the blog posts today and publish them

Sabrina: awesome 🙂

me: okay, favourite story

12:19 PM the bus/train ride from hell

because Pokhara is better told through pictures, and the British girl one isn’t flattering for me 😛

[BLOGGER NOTE: You’ll hear them soon enough.]

12:20 PM we were in Pokhara, Nepal, and we needed to get to Kolkata, India

our internet research indicated that we could take a bus from Pokhara to Birganj and cross the border there to the Indian town called Raxual; we then had a sleeper class train reserved from Raxual to Kolkata

Sabrina: lol….you’re going to have to tell me the british girl story eventually

12:21 PM me: in person? 🙂

aaanyway

12:22 PM Sabrina: sure, in person….just eventually!

me: We get into Pokhara around 2PM. We’re hungry, tired, and cranky, but we need to figure out how to get to the border. The hotel calls around and finds out that we’re going to have to take two buses: one to Bhairawa, Nepal, then onto Birganj. The guy assures us that we can get tickets in Bhairawa for a bus within the hour.

12:23 PM yes, we will have dinner, in person, and I will tell you the British girl story if you ask nicely 😉

Sabrina: I’ll hold you to that

12:25 PM me: We get on a “tourist bus” to Bhairawa. A glorified shuttle bus where all the foreigners have seats and all the locals sit/stand in any space available. We wind our way down the foothills of the Himalayas. I’ve got a window seat, perfect for watching the valleys unfold below me and for emergency puking bucket. I had bad travel sickness and accidentally took an antacid instead of my meds.

 

12:26 PM Lunch was nothing more than a 30 min. pit stop of rice, followed by more nauseous twists and turns, unveiling the grand valleys and fauna of Nepal. Holy smokes, Nepal is beautiful.

12:27 PM Sabrina: can’t wait to see pics of nepal

[BLOGGER NOTE: Pictures have been inserted as necessary.]

me: We get to Bhairawa. A short bicycle rickshaw ride to the bus station, and we ask for tickets to Birganj. Those don’t exist today, because it’s the festival. Practically no one is working. They tell us to get a bus to Pathlaya, then a connection to Birganj. I buy the tickets, we have 3 hours to kill.

This next part is possibly my favourite part of the trip.

12:29 PM We walk to this hotel close to the bus stop. There’s a guy that speaks perfect English (think Queen’s English) that directs us inside for some momos and Pepsi. He offers us festival food (Nepalese food, yum!), and some liquor if we want. We gently refuse the liquor and start chatting with the gentleman.

12:30 PM I look around and see all these pictures of army stuff. Guys in uniform, guys with guns in action, “6th Battalion, Queen’s Gurkha Regiment” proudly on the wall. I’m thinking, this guy can’t be a soldier, he’s a pretty rotund guy!

12:31 PM He was a former Gurkha soldier in the Queen’s Regiment, training in Britain and deploying with the British Army in Afghanistan and Iraq.

Sabrina: whoaa

me: If you don’t know, Gurkha’s are regarded as one of the toughest, most courageous, and professional fighting forces in the world.

12:32 PM I’ve heard that to get in, you need to pass a physical/psychological test much like the US Army Rangers.

I’m talking to a badass, in other words.

Sabrina: wow, he told you this?

me: Yup!

Then he told us about the story of the (lack of) Nepalese government.

12:33 PM In 2002, the crown prince shot everyone in the royal family, and then himself. The throne went to the King’s brother. This man tried to consolidate power too ruthlessly and the people raised a rebellion. The Maoists won, the King capitulated, and the Kingdom of Nepal became the Republic of Nepal.

[BLOGGER NOTE: This happened in 2001, more detail and way more accurate info on Wiki, here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Politics_of_Nepal]

12:34 PM No “credible” elections have been held since this victory.

Sabrina: mmhm

me: I was in a country with no government talking to a man who has seen more combat and adversity than I ever will.

12:35 PM Then he grabs two photos. The first is a man, kneeling in sand, M-16 raised and firing. That’s him, in Iraq.

12:36 PM The second, a handsome, suited man sitting, playing a traditional Nepalese drum with a younger version of this badass I’m talking to behind him.

Sabrina: who is it?

the handsome guy 😛

[BLOGGER NOTE: Of course, she’d ask about the handsome guy]

me: A party to celebrate the graduating class of officer’s school in London. The Gurkha in front of me, in the background, with the crown prince of Nepal.

12:37 PM Sabrina: wicked

so what does he do now?

me: Same guy who shot everyone!

Oh the Gurkha. Living handsomely off his pension in Nepal (conversion rate, woot!), running a hotel and illegal gambling/whoring racket inside because he’s a badass and has a relationship with the police.

[BLOGGER NOTE: I did not get a picture with him. I will get a picture with him in Hong Kong when I’m there over Christmas. He’s got family there, in my hometown!]

12:38 PM We then get on another bus, but a local bus this time. It was empty as we pulled out of the station. It was about to get worse.

12:39 PM It was an incredibly bumpy ride, punctuated by frequent stops of the bus to let people on, and the sound of the horn into the dark night.

Note that it let people on. Never off.

12:40 PM I dozed off on a seat in the back right corner of the bus. When I woke up, the bus was crammed full. Luggage everywhere, people sitting, standing, painfully wedged together at the front. And, I needed to pee!

12:41 PM Sabrina: uh-oh

12:42 PM me: I try out the window (yeah, not my favourite option) a few times, but the bus moves before I…. yeah.

Sabrina: you tried to pee out the window?!

me: My only option is to wind my way to the front of the bus and ask for a pit stop. I do that, trampling on pretty much everyone along the way.

Yes, desperate times call for desperate measures.

12:43 PM Sabrina: hahahahahahha

me: Bus stops, I sprint off for the washroom; my friend on the bus tells me the entire bus laughed their asses off when I did. I really didn’t care.

1AM, I get taken off the bus by the manager guy, directed to another bus for Birganj, and sleepiliy doze my way into Birganj.

12:44 PM Sabrina: I’m trying to picture how peeing out the window would work in my head

can’t figure it out haha

12:45 PM me: This border town is the main exit point for exported goods in Nepal. It’s hustle-bustle, busy as hell. I’m there at 3AM. Only dogs and bicycle rickshaws are moving about. The few lights punctuating the streets reveal a massive number of cardboard beds with people on them. We try to find a hotel, marching with our bags around town, getting chased by dogs. Unable to find one open, we ride to the border and cross into India.

It’s a pretty big window 😉

And guys can aim, ha

12:46 PM Sabrina: hahahahaha

12:47 PM me: We knock and enter the Indian Immigration office. The old man tells us to take a seat and promptly goes back to bed inside his mosquito net. Oh god. Mosquitoes everywhere.

 

We drape a mosquito net over ourselves, apply repellant pretty much everywhere, and fall asleep.

6AM, office man walks in. “We’re here to enter India.” “You need to exit Nepal first.”

12:48 PM Sabrina: lol

me: Back across the border to find the small Nepalese post, 100m before the big Nepal/India ceremonial gate, to the right in the forest, obscured by some shrubs.

12:49 PM Get the stamp, go back, get into India, take a rickshaw around town trying to find water and biscuits in a town where no one speaks English, trash is piled up in the streets, and the air is thick with mosquitoes.

Sabrina: holy, you guys mustve been dead tired

me: Back to the train station, a quick nap, onto the train, lunch for 90 rupees. We take a quick look at money remaining. We’ve got 50 rupees.

That’s $1 CAD

 

12:50 PM An 18 hour train ride in a sleeper class train where the bunks are flat and not much else is good. I almost didn’t have enough headroom to lie down in the top bunk.

 

12:51 PM The landscape though, was beautiful, and seeing the locals filter in and out as we wound our way through the countryside towards Kolkata was rewarding and draining.

Not much more to say about the train ride; uncomfortably cramped quarters with local Indian people through the countryside.

Kolkata is a whole other story 🙂

Sabrina: :S just hearing about it makes me tired

def not for the faint hearted

12:52 PM me: I went to India

after Germany

I think that qualifies me for insanity.

12:53 PM anyway, thanks for making me write a blog post ;), and hope you enjoyed my storytelling

do you have any feedback about my writing style? 😛

Sabrina: yeah you def wrote me an essay. you should just C+P it over

12:54 PM me: I will

I’ll just leave your comments in

an organic blog post, if you will

Sabrina: I’ll comment on it when you have it up

🙂

me: 🙂

 

If she doesn’t comment, I’ll know. You, my beloved reader, should leave a comment too! I like writing for you anonymous folk!