It was a long and less than luxurious journey from Delhi to Kathmandu, taking local buses and crossing the India-Nepal border. You never know what you’re going to get with local buses. They’re not made for people as tall as me so I generally have to sit in a twisted position with my legs jutting out sideways into the aisle of the bus. In order to squeeze a little bit of profit out of the trip the bus will take on as many people as possible and the aisle will at times be packed full of standing people. It was more than once that I found my knee crammed up someone’s ass which in no way seemed unusual to them. In a country of 1.25 billion people (India), personal space is not something to be expected.
This was a three day trip and some of the places we passed through (or stayed the night) were some of the dirtiest places we’ve encountered yet. When we reached the border town of Sonauli I couldn’t believe that human beings survive in such polluted air. The main road through town was backed up with large construction and cargo vehicles belching out huge clouds of black smoke and the ground, including the road, was made of packed dust which was constantly being stirred up into a thick brown haze. Smart people wore masks over their mouths but many people, including us, didn’t have them.
I had read that there was an international ATM near the border so we figured that if we ran low on cash for the Nepali visa we could just hit the ATM. Big mistake. We found the ATM and it was out of money. Since it was at an actual bank that was open we tried to find out if it was going to be restocked and got all sorts of answers that people give when they don’t actually know. Eventually I worked my way to the bank manager to see if he knew or if there was a way for us to withdraw money inside the bank. He told me the ATM would be stocked in 2 and a half hours. That was a pretty long time to wait in this place, and what was the likelihood that it would actually be taken care of? Without cash for the visa we couldn’t cross the border. Was it possible that we would have to spend the night here? Ugh.
We walked down the road looking for options and found ourselves discussing the problem with some guys at a money exchange shop. They offered to take me via motorbike to the nearest town a few miles away where they said there were several ATM’s in a row and one of them was bound to work. Since there weren’t really any other options I hopped on this guy’s motorbike and off we went into the brown cloud, dodging cows, large rocks, and other motorbikes. The likelihood of my survival shrank very quickly as my eyes and lungs filled with dirt.
When we finally came to the town the driver pulled over in front of an ATM. I tried it only to discover that it was out of order. So I got on the bike and we went a little way down the street to another one. It wouldn’t take a card from an international bank. The next one was out of cash. The next one had a long line in front of it and the little room was packed full of people. That seemed like a good sign so I got in line. It moved incredibly slowly and I was perplexed by the way people crowded around the person who was using the ATM. It was as if the locals went to the ATM in large groups for entertainment. They took turns and then left in a large group. A group of about six men finished up and the line moved forward. I waited in line for about fifteen minutes and when there was only one person left in front of me the ATM stopped working. Frustrated, I went back to the motorbike and we went further down the road.
There was one more ATM and it was from a bank that I had used before. There was a line for this one too, except everyone, about eight people, were crowded into the tiny room. You know – the room that is supposed to give the ATM user privacy because everyone else should be waiting outside. I shoved my way inside. There was no “line” so I had to slowly shove and wiggle my way up to the machine. When I could reach the slot on the ATM I had to thrust my card out to it even though there were people in the way. If I didn’t, somebody else would, and I could stand there all day waiting for the other people to be polite and let me have my rightful place in line. No, that would never happen. Once my card was in the slot the mass of people let me move forward and they pressed up against my body with all their weight and watched the screen as I made my transaction. Privacy? Ha.
Triumphant, I walked back out to the motorbike and as we headed back to Sonauli, I was once again faced with my mortality. Thoughts ran through my head. I began to regret that I had separated from Fern to do this errand because if I died on this road she would have no idea what happened to me and would just be sitting there for hours waiting. What if she wasn’t there when I got back? I don’t generally worry too much about such things but this filthy little border town didn’t exactly boost my faith in humanity.
I made it back just fine and we set out to exchange the Indian rupees that we had. The Nepali immigration office would not accept Indian rupees even though it was at the Indian border. They preferred US dollars but would reluctantly take their own Nepali rupees, but they charged more if you payed in Nepali rupees. Go figure. So we could exchange our Indian rupees for US dollars in Sonauli at an absolutely ridiculous exchange rate or exchange for Nepali rupees at a good rate but pay a higher fee at immigration. Either way it’s like an extra tax for absolutely nothing. Oh well.
Fast forward to the next day when we were heading to Kathmandu in the Nepali local bus. It was a long, long ride and it was even more crowded than the Indian buses but there was a certain charm to the experience. The bus would fill with dust whenever we travelled through high traffic areas. There was a sense of camaraderie between many of the passengers. We were all in this together. There was no point in complaining about the bruises on my knees or the pain in my lower back. Fern was squeezed up against the window and got the worst of the incoming filth. The locals had done this many times and seemed used to it. An old man next to me picked up a stranger’s child and sat the boy in his lap. People helped each other out. We met a man who ran a travel magazine and chatted with him for a while and the old man next to me offered me a place to stay in Kathmandu and eventually referred to me as his son. I caught a little boy staring at us in the mirror and played a little peek-a-boo with him. With many people verbal communication was pretty difficult or impossible but the other passengers smiled at us and seemed curious.
It was about 4:30 p.m. and we were only about five miles from Kathmandu, stuck in horrendous traffic, and the bus pulled over to a roadside shack for a dinner break. We were confused. Why would we stop for dinner when we were so close to the destination? Everyone got off the bus and some quickly ate for about twenty minutes and got back on. When we finally made it into Kathmandu we understood why the driver stopped for dinner. It took four hours to go five miles in this insane traffic. By the time we reached our hotel things were pretty quiet – about 9:30, and we were exhausted. Just enough energy to get some food and rinse some of the dust off.
The main tourist area (Thamel) in Kathmandu is pretty cute but we were staying just outside that area in an old local neighborhood with just a few accommodations. The decaying old buildings lining the narrow streets were gorgeous. Tailors hunched over their old fashioned foot-powered sewing machines in the many local clothing shops and Fern developed an interest in the Nepali style of women’s clothing. It was the beginning of a long quest for a couple of nicely fitting Nepali dresses. The main form of entertainment for us was simply wandering the streets and checking out old temples and elaborately decorated wood and brick buildings. The crowded market areas had many shops piled high with handmade metal cooking and eating dishes that I found especially beautiful. Copper, brass, and bronze. It is believed that specific alloys exhibit natural powers for health and healing and bronze dishes are highly sought after.
Because of the lack of pavement, large clouds of dust and exhaust hung in the air and the buildings trapped it all in. As lovely as the city is, the air quality is terrible, and by the end of our time there I had a nasty head cold. From what I’d read this is not uncommon but it was probably the first time that a city’s air literally made me sick. I can only imagine what it does to people who live in it their whole lives.
Despite the traffic and air pollution, Kathmandu has a lot of character and we enjoyed our time there. We didn’t do anything fancy, just soaked up the ambience and tried to figure out where to go next. It certainly helped that there was lots of good cheap food around. I could probably hang out there for much longer if I ever find myself in Nepal again.
jim@snorkelbandits.com