Most people opt for a slightly more expensive "tourist bus" when they want to go in between the major destinations in Nepal. However, there are a few pockets where you need to take a local bus from one small town to another. It doesn't get much more authentic than this. I was dropped off at the "local" bus station in Pokhara planning to head to the small hillside town of Bandipur. As you open the taxi door a dozen people all start yelling at you once hoping to get your attention, it kind of sounds like:
"Excuse me sir, sir!"
"Sir where are you going?!?! You need private car to..."
"Come with me sir, my friend has a car and he can.."
"Bus? No sorry sir, no bus running today. You have to take a private..."
As I crawled through this mass of salesmen I eventually reached a relaxed looking young boy described as being the conductor. He looked no more than ten or eleven. I asked, "Bandipur" and he did this sideways nod similar to what Indians do. It looks more like they're shaking their head, but the slight lift of their chin upwards is actually a nod of agreement. He yelled something at me, and a hand grasped at my backpack from behind me. I turned around, but no one was there. I looked up as I felt it being lifted off my shoulder and saw a small band of baggage ushers hauling my backpack onto the roof. I climbed onto the small cramped bus and barely got my head through the door. The boy pointed to a small 5-inch wide section of cushion between two other women. I tucked my knees in under my chin and squeezed into the small space. The person in the chair behind me had to unfortunately deal with my knees nearly bursting through his seat.
"I can handle this for four hours," I thought to myself.
Then we waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Meanwhile, with every additional passenger being loaded onto the 40 person bus our ten-year old conductor would bang the side of the bus; indicating to the driver that our final traveler has been collected perhaps? Then another bang on the side of the bus was heard. And another. And another. It seemed every person walking by the bus would slam the side of it three or four times trying to convince the driver to free up some parking space. The driver finally put it into gear as our 60th passenger climbed on board. Then he lurched forward a bit, then slid back. Then forward a bit, and back. He kept riding the clutch pushing the bus back and fourth not even a meter for the next ten minutes it seemed. The banging on the sides of the bus intensified. The windows were open thankfully, but vendors selling every kind of vegetable and Nepalese snack nearly crawled into them offering their goods. The women next to me bought two length wise cut cucumbers, with a green coriander chutney spread on top of them. All I could think of was whether they were washed or not, with what kind of water, and who cut them. A rush of anxiety went up my spine as the lady beside me turned, smiled, and kindly offered me the vegetable.
Images of days spent confined to a hotel bathroom, cramps on a four hour bus, and the bumpiest road this side of Tibet flashed before me. I remembered back in Indonesia, when a guide laughed in my face when I asked if the vegetables had been washed with bottled water.
I smiled back at her, erased every thought in my mind and bit into the watery vegetable soaking up the mild flavor and bacilli I knew it contained.
"Fawkit" I muttered to myself with a mouth full of cucumber.
I'll let future Tim sort it out. The bus slid out of Pokhara and we were on our way to Bandipur.
Along the way, the ten year old conductor would hang outside the doorway of the bus rattling down the highway going nearly 90 kph where the road allowed. Every time we approached a small group of people standing alongside the road he would scream out our destination, haggle a price with the group, and then signal to either drive away or stop to pick them up. This happened every ten minutes or so until our bus couldn't hold anymore. The boy would then jump out at certain towns, collecting parcels and envelopes, before chasing after the bus and hopping back on. He was a veteran of the business already, and displayed a type of cockiness to proof it. Meanwhile, the Bollywood-style music they've come to love in Nepal is blasting in the background consistently, while everyone jostles and shoves one another to find a seat or attempt to get off at their next stop. It is an extremely colorful affair.
Arriving in Bandipur I found a small guesthouse and wandered the streets. The small town is known for it's old traditional architecture and once famous bazaar. The views during the winter months are spectacular apparently (according to Google images), but alas the only thing I saw was fog and haze. I managed to trek down a small path to Nepal's biggest cave, which is an unlikely 10m wide and 400m long. Still rather impressive, but not to the scale I was expecting compared to the rest of my Himalayan adventures. Still it was a sweet, sleepy town with little to no tourists. School children riddled the streets hollering their favorite slogans at me and running off in excitement. Even at 5 am the next day the visibility was nil, so I decided to hop on,
"The Local Bus"
Tim
fawkit
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