From Kathmandu to Tulsipur

After much delay we finally made it to Tulsipur. Our most recent plan had been to take the bus, but due to uncertainties about potential strikes blocking our path on what was already going to be a 12 hour journey we chose instead to take the flight to Nepalgunj where we were greeted by the driver from BASE in what I had been told twice while making and finalizing our plans was a very old but sturdy jeep. Keeping in mind the lessons we’ve learned individually on our previous travels, and in preparation for what was sure to be a long and bumpy journey, a yellow tinted Nalgene bottle had been purchased. Despite not having to make use of it on this leg of the trip I have a feeling that over the course of the next six months it will come in handy on more occasions than I would like to admit to at present.

One of the main reasons that we were not able to take the bus was that we could not get to the bus park to purchase the tickets the day before because of the city wide bandh that was in effect. The last time that I was in Nepal I didn’t get the chance to experience a full-fledged bandh. I mean there were little strikes here and there, and we did get stuck on the highway on our way to Pokhara - forcing our group to march on the side of the road, wade through feet of mud, and ride in the back of some stranger’s dirt encrusted truck which had a tarp covering the bed rendering it an overheated sauna for those that had to sit inside, while the rest of us hung off the back of the truck. That was a good day.

It was on that day that I learned that it’s not a real bandh unless there are sticks involved. Or was it a table? Hmm, now I’m not sure. In any case, on the day of the bandh I remembered it being sticks, and so had I not learned that lesson I may have been confused by the man on the side of the road selling what I am sure were bamboo bandh sticks. Overall though, as we wandered the streets, there was not much commotion and I did not see any sticks being used. Instead, the day and atmosphere were quite pleasant. With the city shut down - all shops essentially closed and no traffic to speak of, save for a few brave motorcycles - kids were free to play soccer and badminton in the street without fear of being run over, the police rested on their rifles while they texted their friends or ate popcorn, and people of all ages casually strolled up and down the roads chatting with each other. Instead of honking there were the murmur of voices and the creaking of rickshaws, the drivers making the most of the open streets and lack of taxis. The guy renting bikes was also making out pretty well.

Other than the guy selling sticks, there seemed to be an odd number of people selling wooden recorders off of what appeared to be recorder parasol. There also seemed to be a lot more people selling hard boiled eggs. Though, with my history of hard boiled in Nepal, I might have just been extra sensitive and aware of their presence. Either way there were a lot of eggs and recorders on sale.







Two days later we boarded the flight to Nepalgunj. The domestic section of the Kathmandu airport is basically one large open concrete floored room with a few benches sparingly spread around. There are a few windows near the top of the high ceiling, many of them broken. Perhaps the way the room is built makes it cool and nice in the summer, but at 7am in the winter it was pretty frigid. At the suggestion of the women working at our hotel, and not wanting to repeat the stress of cutting it too close like we felt in Bangkok, we found ourselves at the airport two hours early. In most places this wouldn’t be a problem. Just check in and hang out near the gate, maybe get a cup of coffee, pick up a magazine, that sort of thing. In Kathmandu, though, we were unable to check in and hand over our bags until 45 minutes before the flight was scheduled to take off. Not that we would have fared much better had we been allowed to go wait at the gate as it was essentially just another big, rather cold waiting room. In the end we did find the airport restaurant and were able to get a cup of tea, but there was still more than sufficient time to sit and ponder the various things listed as restricted on Nepali airplanes. In Thailand the list was self-explanatory and included hand guns, anything highly flammable and/or combustible, and durian. In Nepal there were things like infectious substances and magnetized materials. Considering that the power goes on and off in the airport, security consists of a quick pat down (on running her hand over the pocket of my jacket the screener asked “camera?” I said no but as I began to unzip my pocket to show her what was inside she just waved me past), and there is a reasonable chance that the bus you take from the gate to the plane may very well break down on the way across the tarmac, I couldn’t help but be a bit concerned that someone with a moderately well hidden set of alphabet refrigerator magnets could successfully carry out a plot to take down our plane.

Luckily, no one seemed all that interested in sabotaging our flight and we made it safely to Nepalgunj. We got stuck in a bit of traffic on the way to Tulsipur as we were stuck behind some people making the road for us to drive on, and I regretted not having worn a sports bra as we bounced down the road, but for the most part it was an easy journey.

Having only been able to find a few pictures of Tulsipur prior to arriving here I wasn't really sure what to expect, other than knowing that it was going to be small, and the accommodations basic. It turns out that the few imagines that have made it onto the internet are pretty representative of the whole town. There is one “main” drag lined with little stilted box huts out of which people sell a few little packaged things. Then there are the people selling oranges and bananas off of carts, or store fronts with piles of potatoes and onions out front, and the one store that sells toilet paper. Other than that there are some pharmacies, sweet shops, small menu-less restaurants offering dal bhat or chowmein, an occasional barber or beauty parlor, and a few places with clothes that seem to be hanging off the rafters. The side streets are essentially the same. A little quieter perhaps, although the main street isn’t exactly bustling with activity.

Since it is winter it is very dry here at the moment. On the drive from Nepalgunj we crossed a number of bridges, all of which passed over dry river beds with not a drop of water in them. A thick dust hangs in the air, stirred up when a tractor or bus drives down the road. Goats wander the streets and either lounge on, or eat, plots of dried grass or garbage piles. Sometimes they munch on grass or trash while they lay basking in the sun. There are, of course, stray dogs, but not nearly as many as I was expecting. Or maybe I just haven’t seen them yet. We’ve only been here a little over a day and already I’ve begun to lose track of time. Driving into town, time seemed to simultaneously go backwards and slow down. I am interested to see how I adjust to this way of life. At the moment I am looking forward to it. After being in school and feeling like there was always something hanging over me, something that needed doing, having so much time to just be sounds pretty appealing. Who knows, I may even make some great lifelong imaginary friends while I’m here.