My eye lids are heavy, but I am so eager to make notes about my first experiences in Nepal and, specifically, here in Gawai, Chitwan where I will spend the next 2 weeks at a volunteer placement. I boarded the ‘local’ bus in Thamel at 12:00 pm this afternoon after several emails from Ranjan wherein I could detect his apprehensiveness about me choosing to take the local bus instead of the tourist bus, which only leaves once per day at 6:30am. After arriving in Kathmandu late in the evening last night and wanting to explore and pick up a few things before my exile to a rural village, I decided I was going to forgo the comforts and inflated price of the tourist bus and have a bit of time in the morning to hopefully acquire a new pair of hiking boots that I could break in a bit before my trek I had planned to do after the placement. I was successful in my search and encountered possibly the best salesman in all of Nepal who somehow managed to talk me into purchasing half of North Fake’s medium quality mass-produced Chinese crap. How did I let this happen? In my defense, nothing I purchased do I feel to be impulse buys or articles that will not be put to use in the future and I tried to limit my selection to versatile items that could be used for outdoor activities/trekking in both Nepal and Canada. For less than $100 CAD, I left Mr Fulrai’s shop, Everest Outdoor Trekking Store with “the perfect things for me” which included; a pair of North Fake hiking boots, two pairs of Cool Max trekking socks, a North Fake long-sleeved moisture-wick top, and a North Fake foldable hat. I was given Mr Fulrai’s guarantee of satisfaction, a handful of cards as I reluctantly handed over my Visa along with the reassurance that I would come back to his shop with my father when I manage to drag him to Nepal to trek with me one day.
I arrived at the chaotic bus station around 11:30 and after being shooed away, pointed toward and dragged from one ticket stand to another, found myself on a hot and extremely cramped local bus bound for Chitwan.
The bus ride was…weird. People got on and off at any and every location possible, poor Monster (my inexplicably large backpack) was strapped to the roof when his place in the aisle became too awkward for passengers to navigate around. Vendors boarded at all the stops selling various snacks such as chunks of coconut, chips, peanuts and entire cucumbers with various sauces to slather onto them. Bottles of water were shoved in my face throughout the 6 hour journey as vendors were so bold as to slide the windows open and beggars to reach through and grab my knee with a hungry, sad, pleading look splayed across their faces.
The views were incredible along the drive as the bus crept around up down and over the mountains and valleys, along rivers and little towns. It was a very pleasant drive when we weren’t stopped with dust suffocating the nostrils, and sweat leaking out of every pore.
The bus lurched to a halt in the middle of busy downtown Chitwan and I suddenly hear yelling and every pair of eyes on the bus turned to look at me. Apparently, this was my stop. Ranjan had told me to stay on the bus until the last stop where he would be waiting for me. I insisted to the little bus manager who was now outside standing beside Monster, who had been ejected from his shackled space on the roof and was now lying in the dust on the side of the road like some dead animal, that
“I’m supposed to stay on until the last stop at Sauraha.”
“This is last stop. You take a taxi to Sauraha!”
The gentleman beside me also informed me that “this is last stop, you get off here.”
My confusion came when I realized that no one else was getting off at this apparent ‘final stop.’ Were they all just along for the fun of a 12 hour round-trip jaunt from Kathmandu to Chitwan and back again? No…there must be at least one more stop. But the tribe had spoken and the members of the local bus crew had decided that this particular individual was being voted off the bus. I alighted and continued to discuss the situation with the bus managers when the bus itself started to pull away, leaving me standing amongst the fruit vendors and taxi drivers in a heap of confusion.
I was hoping to see Ranjan come running up to me, but he did not. I collected myself after dragging my awkward luggage that seemed much heavier than it had the day before (damn you, Mr Fulrai) over by a bench when some forlorn gentleman with a picture frame approached. In his most desperate and pathetic voice he pleaded, “Please, mother sick with cancer” whist shoving the framed picture of an elderly woman and two written paragraphs in Nepali in my face.
I was hot, tired, lost and could only think of my Aunts at this moment and could only mutter “EVERYONE has f%#@ing cancer, dude” as I jerked my baggage onto my back and started off to locate a Wi-Fi zone. The first attempt was a guesthouse where the two men behind the counter informed me that neither they nor anyone else in the entire town of Chitwan could provide Wi-Fi.
“Seriously? No one? Anywhere?”
“No ma’am, but you would like some room? Some drinks? Some laundry?” Bloody hell, no!
The towering “Top Resto” building looked promising so I made my way up and to my relief discovered that they were Wi-Fi friendly. After making contact with poor Ranjan who was patiently waiting for me in Sauraha about 20km away, the kind, plump server Govinda, helped me downstairs and arranged a fair price with a friendly taxi driver to my destination.
My young driver was full of smiles the entire drive and informed me that the guest in Nepal is considered God.
“How can I be a good guest?” I wanted to know.
“You are already a good guest, the guest is God!”
“But what if I eat all their food or leave my clothes lying around in a big mess, will they still think I am good.”
“Yes, no problem!”
As we neared an unavoidable pothole the size of the small car itself, my young driver prepared us with an “uh ohhhhh!” CRASH “Soooorrrryyyyyyy…” Big toothy smile.
As I was asking about his school and what he was studying his phone rang. It was one of his friends who he was eagerly informing that he had a “Canadian friend with him.”
“Do you have Facebook?”
I hesitated.
“Um…well, er, yes.”
“Can I add you as friend?”
“Well, yes. But my friend had a guy add her when we were in India and he ended up liking every single one of her pictures and she had to delete him, so don’t do that, ok?”
“Ok, yes understand. No problem. No liking! I’m so happy now.”
By the time we arrived in Sauraha, poor Ranjan had been waiting for me since 3:30 in the afternoon! I felt terrible, but he was pretty laid back about the fact that he’d sat around for the past 4 1/2 hours. Seated on his motorbike, we awkwardly balanced all of my crap onto our backs and legs and started the slow journey to the rural part of town where Ranjan lives with his wife Swapna (pronounced Shoapna) their four year old daughter Maru (or, my new Bahini – little sister) as well as Ranjan’s mother (Ama- mother) and father (Buwa). There was another older lady who I believe is the father’s sister (Phupu) and a young girl who is Ranjan’s niece Garima all crammed into the modest 3 bedroom hut they call home along a dirt road across from a rice field. As it was dark, it was difficult to make much out along the drive, but we went through many fields of crops, which I was informed, are currently in rice season with another two months to go before harvest, making the land very green and lush (or so I could tell from the drive from Thamel). Ranjan talked animatedly about some of the projects he has going in the community including building wells for families to have better access to water for maintaining their crops in the dry seasons, and developing and protecting the nature tour company he works for. He talked a bit about some of the other volunteers they have had here in the community and was very interested in what I had been and will be doing in terms of my travels before and after Nepal.
When we arrived at his home, Swapna, Maru, Ama & Phupu were waiting on the stoop with a bouquet of tropical pink and purple flowers, and a tray with rice and pink powdery dye which they offered as a blessing as they placed the mark on my forehead. Maru was quite shy and kept her distance as she sized me up, but by the time I’d finished my plate of rice, potato and okra, some thick soupy sauce and spicy chutney, she was coyly doing headstands and short hip thrusting dance moves to show off to the new guest.
The power cut out and we were plunged into darkness as I was chatting to Swapna, Ama and Phupu about where they had grown up and what they do in the village. We lit a candle for the few minutes that we were without power and continued our discussion as Maru interrupted to try to get my attention by saying “Didi! Didi!”
“What is she saying?” I asked Swapna.
“Didi, it means big sister in Nepali. You are her big sister now.”
Ranjan explained that just as with their past volunteers, some of whom have flown him and the family to their own homes in Europe, another is starting an organic coffee business with him, I would be welcomed and treated as a member of the family during my short stay.
We didn't get a chance to discuss logistics or what he’s got planned for me as Ranjan insisted that I go to bed early if I was tired and take my time and just relax and not rush into anything the following day. Although I was keen to find out what this placement would involve, I was grateful for the pardon to bed as I realized the long bus ride had exhausted me.
My room is very pleasant with a double and single bed, large bathroom with modern toilet, sink and shower in the same room. There is a small ground-level balcony outside facing the dirt road and the fields across from it. I was looking forward to awakening to the scenery of Gawai in the morning!
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