Backpacker Central

As the capital of Nepal, and the base for our planned trek to Everest Base Camp, Kathmandu was the obvious choice for our second stop in Nepal. After the nightmare that was our bus journey to Pokhara, we paid a bit more for a proper tourist bus this time round.



Some of the scenery on the journey was stunning. Nepal really is a country brimming with scenic beauty, and thrillingly most of the road had nothing but a huge drop at it's edge, making the five hour journey seem like five minutes.



Motoring through the outskirts, Kathmandu seemed similar to the big Indian cities, except far more hilly, and a bit cleaner. There was definitely a lot more advertising present, and our route to the bus stand was lined with numerous motorbike garages, most of which had Duckhams or Castrol livery. The air was also similar to Indian cities, with a pollutant haze clearly present, a far cry from Pokhara's clear horizons.

Departing the bus, the same routine as Pokhara was used: get a taxi straight to the backpacker area, lie to the driver that we have a hostel booked, and then once there search for the cheapest place on foot. Thewal really is a haven for backpackers. Western food is available everywhere, and the narrow streets are lined with bars, including an awful Irish pub.



Standing out with our backpacks still on us, we became a target for touts offering accommodation. Funnily enough this worked to our advantage, because it was though a tout that we found a cheap place in a fine location. Your wallet stays healthier if you don't mind dingy accommodation.

Once the backpacks were off though, we were still a target for touts, along with the huge number of other Westerners there. Thewal is trekking central, with far more trekking companies than willing trekkers, so the trekking touts were the worst, in your face every thirty seconds pushing this trek and that. Luckily my time spent in India meant I knew exactly how to handle them: pretend they aren't there.

Best Seat in the House

According to the Lonely Planet Guide to Nepal:

“Bus travel in Nepal poses a significant risk of accident. It's uncommon to drive for more than an hour on any stretch of road without passing the burnt-out shell of a public bus crushed like tin foil into the canyon below. Travelling on an overnight bus trip is probably the most dangerous thing you can do in Nepal, and is certainly a bigger risk than that currently posed by the Maoists and even more dangerous than the bungee jump (only kidding on that one). You are more than 30 times more likely to die in a road accident in Nepal than in most developed countries.
During the course of researching this guide we passed ten fatal bus crashes in one ten-day period, which between them killed over 200 people. Tourist buses are generally safer than public buses but still the message is clear; keep bus travel to a minimum.”

They sounded great! With no trains in Nepal, the only alternative was to fly into Kathmandu, but that would mean gaining 1000m in altitude in a couple of hours, and besides that we wanted to go to Pokhara first. So we took our chances with the buses of death.

Having been promised a tourist bus by the agent in our hotel we booked with, we boarded the bus early the next morning to be greeted by nothing but Nepalese on board. We were directed to the tourist section, which basically meant sitting in the driver's cab area, which was separated from the passengers in the back with a plywood wall and a small door. I got to sit right up front, so I had an unobstructed view of the roads ahead.

The journey had barely begun when a traffic policeman halted it. The main road was closed. After much shouting and gesticulating, the bus driver reluctantly tried to find a detour. Down one unpaved street, we came screeching to a halt. There was a chasm in the road, which was hard to spot in the pre-dawn darkness. The driver's helper got out and inspected it. Too wide. No shit, it was about a metre gap! The batteries in my camera were dead so I was unable to get any photos unfortunately.

A detour from the detour meant we ended up driving through what seemed like one huge quarry for about 10km. I've never gone quadbiking, but I'd imagine a course is similar to what we drove through.

Like the local buses in India, we stopped to pick up and drop off passengers all along the way. The closer we got to Pokhara the busier the bus got. For the last four hours of the journey I was sitting at the windshield, along with a Nepalese lady, her son (neither of whom spoke a word of English), the gearstick (who didn't speak at all) and the driver (who shouted a lot), all cosily squeezed together. This was the best seat in the house to witness the no holding back overtaking around blind corners with a 500 foot unbarriered drop beside the road lunacy of our heroic driver. We got there in the end.

A Rolling Start

Having bought our bus ticket out of Udaipur earlier, we made our way to the travel company's office that night, as directed. Multiple buses drove past, none of which were ours, we were waiting for the agent to let us know.

After waiting around for 30 minutes or so, said agent abruptly told us to “follow him”, pointing at his friend.. So we did. We walked through roundabouts and across busy roads, with all our possessions on our backs. We walked expectantly past a couple of parked buses. From a bend in the road in front of us emerged yet another bus, moving at a fair old speed. “This yours”, said the stranger we were following like lost sheep. He waved frantically and the bus slowed down. It had just about stopped when we were hurried on to the bus. No time to put our rucksacks in the luggage compartment. Two more people got on behind us, one of whom had to run to keep pace with the door as the bus started to move and as we slowly made our way through the crowded bus stairwell.

This time I had a single sleeper capsule to myself, though the pleasure of having my own space was slightly ruined by the streaks of shit that ran down one side of the compartment.

We got there in the end. I didn't get much sleep though.

Bussing It Up

With Pushkar unreachable by train, another bus was our only way of moving on. This time we ended up on the cheap public bus with the locals. It also happened to be the school bus for every village for 90km. If you remember what happened in Delhi, you'll remember that our height and white skin gives us celebrity status when Indian children are involved. So there was a lot of long stares, and plenty of wary but friendly shouts of “hallo!” At one stage the bus was so packed there was people on the roof too! We could only make out their shadows, but they were definitely there. Another must-see off the list.

Our (late) arrival in Jodhpur was as chaotic as the bus journey. The bus stopped on a big bridge. A lot of shouting in Hindi ensued. Random people stormed on to the bus, shouting at us (in English) directly. They were saying get off, the driver's helper said stay on. One of these randomers showed a card for our hostel (we had arranged hostel pick-up from the bus station – we didn't think it'd be at a bloody flyover). Follow him then.

Jaipurian Journey

Our journey to Jaipur began with the surreal. The walk from our hostel to the bus, at 6.30am, was an unexpected treat. Before now we had only seen Delhi in full power mode, with people and vehicles and sales pitches everywhere you turn. But at 6.30am the contrast was startling, an ethereal experience, the city was just coming to life. What we saw was darkened backstreets, lit up only by the rare barber operating and one or two food vendors serving breakfast to those unfortunate enough to be up at this hour, a different Delhi.

This journey was led by the guy who called to our hostel at 6.30am to lead us to our bus (we had never met him before). We followed him for 10 minutes through the backstreets, then he took a right and a guy on our left started beckoning us to follow him. My first instinct was to stick to our leader, but he proceeded to ignore us. So what could we do except follow this other guy? It was the right bus in the end. And it was a good lesson in how things are done in India. You just have to roll with it.

Our first Indian bus journey and we sat at the back, like all Irish cool kids do. The journey was a rollercoaster of emotion and kinetic energy. Have a taste for yourself with the video below.



Five hours later we arrived in Jaipur, shaken but not stirred.