The jeep driver was
due to pick up our bags sometime Saturday before noon. We were still enjoying
our tea and our ‘last dhal bhaat’, when we heard the distinctive rattling of a diesel
jeep pulling up outside. Sure enough, a sharp, capable looking machine was
disgorging passengers and shedding various loads from the roof rack. I was
immediately excited. I love a good 4x4 trip as much as anybody, but this was
going to be a marathon. Roughly 20 hours, depending on road blockages,
breakdowns, food and fuel stops. We were asked if we could leave at 2:00 in the
afternoon, instead of 3:00 AM. We would break up the drive with a food stop and
a few hours of sleep in some town whose name we never did figure out. We all agreed without hesitation, and started
to plan our last few hours in Salleri. It was market day, which was a perfect
send off, the most active and entertaining day of the week. Vincent and I made
a last visit to the artist we’d befriended, who was painting yet another
monastery. We cut our visit short, said our goodbyes, and got some snacks for
the jeep ride. As we walked through Salleri one last time, I realized how much
I would miss it. We were rarely comfortable, and Su did develop a nasty lung
and ear infection, but the slow pace and friendly smiles had won me over. I’d
miss the strong family and community bonds, general lack of marketing and media
in general, and the close connection to the land, and to their religions. There
is also something about having an old Nepali man or woman stop and stare at
you, wide eyed and slack jawed, like you just stepped out of a spaceship. Our
time in rural Nepal will never let me take for granted the level of luxury we
have become accustomed to in Canada. We have so much, yet always consume more.
Once we got to the jeep, I initially thought we
were miscommunicating when they said there would be nine passengers. Thankfully
they asked if I wanted to sit shotgun, up with the driver, and I selfishly
jumped at the opportunity! In the second row, Su, Raven and Vincent could sit
with their shoulders touching, reaching from one side of the jeep to the other,
snug, but acceptable. Only one more person had to squeeze in; and four more sat
in the space behind the seats, in the cargo area. I was very thankful to have
such a great seat, taking pictures, and feeling slightly guilty. I think the
first five hours were the roughest, we used the 4X4 the most during this first
section, only ever using 1st and 2nd gear. We drove from 3:30 pm until 9:30 pm,
when we ate dinner and slept for 4 hours in a hotel. The driver was a machine.
Besides the dinner break, we drove from 3:30 AM until 12:30 PM, with one quick
stop for tea as we waited for a river ferry. The ferry is an open concept steel
barge, using cables to position itself
in the river, so that the current can propel it from side to side, held in
place by an over -head cable and pulley system. Very efficient and ingenious, just
a little slow.
Flying over the
brown scars of the rural roads connecting more and more communities with the
city and the world, and even walking along the rutted, rocky and steep tracks,
does nothing prepare you for how rough the roads really are. There were many
sections that would certainly be completely impassable in the monsoon. Sections
with deep, talcum powder dust, 5 or 6 inches deep, would quickly turn to impossibly slippery and steep
deathtraps, with shear drop offs, complete with the wreckage of trucks and busses that had never finished their
journey. We lost the daylight all too early, but some part of me thought it was
probably for the better, as we wound our way up and over valley after valley,
switch-back by tight switch-back. Occasionally we could see clusters of dim
lights on the hillsides below us, and even made out a few constellations, by
chance or imagination. The dawn light revealed one of the largest rock-slides
I’ve ever seen. Hope Slide is fairly impressive, but this unknown river of rock
choked the valley, cutting away precious food producing terraces and leaving nothing
but boulders and stone in return. The road carved into the unstable bank was
pretty dodgy, but we had been given many blessings for a safe journey, so I
wasn’t too terrified! After we crossed the river by ‘ferry’, we continued along
the river bank for some time, driving through countless creeks, streams, and
rivers, many of which had massive modern highway bridge construction projects,
all in varying stages of completion. The terrain that separated these bridges
was very rough; steep, bumpy, dusty tracks in a constant cycle of collapse and
repair. We passed through some incredibly remote villages, a day’s walk from
anywhere, cut off completely during the monsoon. So basic, yet so beautiful and rare in their
traditional and seasonal rhythm; and a lack of marketing and consumerist
ideals, where family and community are everything.
I had assumed that as we got closer to
Kathmandu, the roads would begin to gradually improve. Yes and no… Eventually,
we started being tempted by the siren call of a freshly paved highway down
below, deceptively disappearing into the distance. We were still celebrating
when it ended three minutes later, as we turned onto a very steep dusty grind
that I was very glad I didn’t have to walk up. On the other side, as we were
descending, a motorcycle had to stop in the deep, powdery dust to give us the
right of way. He was instantly stuck. Some other pedestrians pushed him out and
he wobbled on, disappearing up hill in a thick cloud of fine dust.
I switched seats with Vincent, stretching some different
muscles and moving my feet again after driving from 3:30 AM until 2:30 PM, on top of the 5 hours the
night before. Visibility was still quite
good, but with nothing to hang onto in the middle seat, I was getting just tossed
around, rag doll style. My oblique, intercostal
muscles and neck were still aching the next day. The jeep driver had stopped at
one of the riverside “carwashes” once we hit pavement for good, scrubbing the
beast down and tossing any garbage into the river, for at least half an hour. He
lived in Pepsi Cola, so we knew where we would end up, but had gotten word
that our old room was occupied, so we would still have to find out which place we’d
be moving to. It was fully dark as we came into Kathmandu, but the smog was
still noticeable, black and choking. Thankfully, Bishal and Angela were on hand
to greet us and organize the weary travellers. It turned out that we could have
the same homestay family! I had been dreaming of the spacious living room for
daily yoga. It has worked out perfectly!
I’ve
started teaching a 7:30am daily class in the living room to some of the other
volunteers. Tej also has plans for me to teach at the school. The afternoons
are getting cool already, so it looks like I’ll only teach the morning class,
but I am so thankful and full of joy at being able to guide these kindred
spirits as we all continue the work of becoming aware, selfless, and capable of making better decisions every
day. So much to be thankful for, even
after a 27 hour jeep ride.
I’ve just realized that tomorrow will be Christmas Eve! It certainly
doesn’t feel like it, with highs around 22-24 degrees, and only occasional
morning fog. The skies have been clear enough lately for us to realize the
mountain ranges closest to Kathmandu actually loom over the city. We are thinking
of all of you at home that we will miss so much this year. I’ve grown attached to
the twinkling trees, the family gatherings, and the time we take to stop and
enjoy the company of those closest to us (when they’re around ;). We send warm
wishes, big hugs, and may joy overflow. Namaste, and Merry Christmas.
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