Longest 120 km's ever. Ever.
Trip Start Sep 13, 2009
31Trip End Oct 14, 2009
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After dinner we bought some more books and gifts and went home to pack and sleep our last night in Pokhara. I am writing this at the Denali Resort where we have stopped for lunch. We brought our own: crackers, sardines and yak cheese
There's a microphone right in front of me. It is a grave temptation for one such as I.... bugger! I've turned it on and tapped on it and it doesn't work! I could've been a tour guide slash entertainer slash singer. Especially now that we don't have the Vengaboys looping on the dvd player - an older gent down the back of the bus requested it to be turned off - maybe he didn't appreciate the irony of hearing The Vengabus Is Coming over and over. And over. When we are immobile.
We are stuck now in some kind of traffic jam. Maybe roadworks, because we are stopped, yet there is a steady stream of trucks and buses coming the other way past us. Our driver is standing beside the bus smoking with some other drivers. Trucks coming past are shocking pollution monsters belching black smoke, but they look gorgeous, festooned with colourful paintjobs, streamers, lights and pictures of the favoured deity.
Maybe 40 minutes later - we've moved about 2 km's. So. In Kathmandu I want to show Brenden the monkey temple (Pashuputinath) and the Boddnath Stupa and visit Baktapur
It's 4.30 and we're about 7km's away apparently, but that could mean an hour or more. The original jam was an accident between a bus, truck and ambulance. Once we'd passed it and were moving we passed about 7km's of stationary traffic. Not much different for us now, except I think this is just too many vehicles trying to get into the city on one road. Yay.
On the road our driver swerves towards dogs to hit them. I believe this character defect justifies writing about the luxurious locks of hair growing form the mole on his right cheek. I want to offer to braid it for him. I've also drawn a rather unkind picture of him.
10 past 6. Outskirts of the city. This has an almost majestic ridiculousness to it; an air of noble persistence. When we actually get there, I'm going to refuse to get off the bus. I've become attached. Glued even. Ma legs, ma legs...I can't feel ma legs....
Ooooooooh it;s just like an Enid Blyton story - the adventures just keep coming! Now it's 20 to 8 - apparently there's a checkpoint up ahead and vehicles are being checked for arms.
I've personally looked up and down the length of this bus, and everyone seems to have them. Whether that's good or bad, remains to be seen. People are just getting off now so maybe we're close but I can't tell....busting for the loo....
Oh, joy. It's nearly 9pm and Monumental Paradise has asked us to go away for 15 minutes while they see if they kept our room! I said nup, been on a bus for a hundred and eleventy-eight hours; I'm off to the Annapurna Lodge around the corner. 4th floor up, a twin room, thank-you very much. We liked the taxi driver that brought us from the bus stop so much that we've asked him to come back tomorrow and drive us around - a bit of a luxury for us and money for him.
Not happy about staying here; it's a great hotel for the price but there's history here for me. I feel ok though, but still will find somewhere else tomorrow.