So we finally left India and crossed the border into Nepal. The journey through the sub- continent, 4000 km through the largest democracy on the planet ended at a quiet border-post on the stony banks of the Khola river. We were the only customers checking out at this friendly post. The only traffic was the odd bicycle or pony-cart taxi struggling up the rocky bank to cross the bridge. The locals needed no visa.
I have never been anywhere quite so culturally different from western Europe. It seemed everything was done differently in India. I must admit that I leave the country not more informed, enlightened and with an understanding of its culture or cultures but only aware that I am more ignorant about more things than I thought I was. I know we are all supposed to be culturally sensitive in these modern times, but I could not help feeling that many of Indias problems exist because of the culture and not despite it, religion being a huge controlling factor and perhaps also an excuse which many things are hidden behind.
I found the Indians often not the easiest of people to like and had to repeat to myself the advice my friend Ricky who had been there a lot gave me; no matter what happens just keep smiling. I tried also to stop thinking how things could be better here if only people would clean this or repair that and so on. 'If I was king'type of thoughts in India are about as useful as those about re-arranging the stars.
US. President Obama's visit here was all over the papers soon after we arrived and the articles gave the impression that he was complimenting India on having a billion middle-class. In all the miles and through the hundreds of villages, towns and cities we passed through we found them hard to find. Yes we met some educated and wealth families but the sanitized world of new cars, cleaning products and skin-lightening creams portrayed on the TV adverts largely eluded us. We passed only one shopping center with a McDonalds on the outskirts of a city so maybe we were looking for the wrong thing. I asked an Englishman but 20 year resident here what 'middle-class' actually meant here. Did it mean you had a motorcycle? He laughed at the 1 Billion figure and said he was not sure either but perhaps it meant you simply had a job.
Our life on the bikes was one travelling through a world of beat-up buses and buffalo's. I tried to put thoughts of problems and solutions away and pay attention to the smaller details and the changes in landscape and people as we made our way North.
Anja would remark upon the variations in both mens and womens clothing from one district to the next; small changes in Saris and headgear that would have gone unnoticed to me. I would point out the changes in cart or tuck-tuck design. Behind the mass vehicle world of Tata, Mahindra, Hero-Honda or Maruti-Suzuki was a complex one of the 'vernacular vehicle'. A certain design of ox-cart, rick-shaw and even locally made truck was often particular to a certain town. If a scooter was chopped and turned into a trike, we would see many in one town and then never again. Cow-carts changed to ox-carts to buffalo-carts to pony or camel-carts the constructions always different. The chassis and wheel construction would vary from wood to bamboo to steel re-bar. Sometimes the engine was one animal sometimes two. The buffalo themselves also seemed to change, those in the South having longer horns that swept impressively down the animals back.
The food of course also changed. Our favorite street food being a kind of yellow -rice concoction that sadly disappeared one day and we were back to samosas deep-fried in historic oil.
A constant was the overloud horn hooping, a simple motorbike being equipped with an array of sound devices capable of far exceeding any European decibel regulations. Our ears often hurt in town and countryside alike.
I expected Nepal, especially the Terai or lowland plain to be like another Indian state but as soon as we crossed the border things were different.
There is really only one road West to East through Nepal and we figured it would be busy and possibly unpleasant. The ride East then North to Pokhara turned out to be one of the nicest stretches on our trip. The traffic was mainly bicycles and the villagers had not yet bought into the great concrete-con to which the Indians had so largely succumbed. We were in grass thatched bamboo and mud-hut land. The young wheat was bright green in the paddy fields and there were marigold gardens and daily swept, hard packed mud yards. The crap and rubbish, so much a part of India seemed to be under control here. The people obviously had little money for the main part but grew almost all they needed. Perhaps my naive ideas of a rural idyll would be washed away with the first monsoon rains but although the weather was cold and mostly foggy we were happy to be here.
Bardia National Park is home to the rare one horned rhino, Bengal tiger leopards, pythons and other beasties from the jungle-book. We stayed a few days in a mud-hut guest house in the forest and went on a jungle walk with Baba and Krishna, two interesting young guides who were proud of West Nepal and wanted to help develop the tourism in this not so frequented corner in an environmentally friendly way and without all the trappings and problems of the more famous and visited areas. They were good trackers and we followed a mother rhino and babies footprints until we located them in some tall grass by one of the many dry riverbeds. We had to climb a tree to spot them maybe 30m away. Later we got close to an enormous python waiting for prey on a fallen tree. The tiger tracks were fresh in the mud but were sadly elusive that day.
We planned to hike into the mountains of the Jumla region with Baba but a few phone calls revealed there was just too much snow and it was too cold. Some poor villager got caught out at night with his mules and they all froze to death. It was damn cold down on the plains. We are not here at the best season.
In Butwal we turned North towards Pokhara, the base for some of Nepals best mountain trekking. What looked on the map like 60kms was in fact a 160km twisting mountain road that did its best to hug the natural contours up terraced or forested valleys but was forced repeatedly over ridges and down to the next river. We were slowly winching and worming our way into the Himalayas.
Right now we are in Pokhara, buying a few warm clothes and gleaning some valuable advice about the famous Annapurna trails, one of which would take us over some of the highest passes in the world. Some people say it is too cold right now and people are coming back with frostbite. Others say we should be ok, it depends on the weather when we get there. The trek could take us 3 weeks or so, more with side trips, acclimatisation and such. Whichever route we choose we will be off the radar so to speak for maybe a month so no blog posts for a while. (no change there then).
