Nepal Bound - Buses, Bribes and Bad Weather

I had a few basic objectives in Siliguri – getting my clothes washed at a reasonable rate, buying a new rain cover for my pack, sending a package of Darjeeling tea back to the U.S. and making my way by land into Nepal. All but acquiring the pack cover proved unsucessful.

Don’t get me wrong, I did get my clothes washed, but it cost me nearly $20 U.S. for two loads, whereas the cost in Dharamkot or here in Kathmandu is about $2 per load.

And I am here in Nepal now, but it took a trek to a border crossing hundreds of kilometers away and several bribes to get here by land. And I still have the tea with me.

Siliguri – Durga Pooja

I woke on Sunday morning and went in search of a laundry service and some coffee. Of four possible cleaner services near where I was staying only one was open for business.

It is important to note here, that the past week has been the observance of a major Hindu holiday called Dussehra in India and Dashwain in Nepal. It is also called the Durga Pooja as the religious observance calls for providing offerings to the goddess Durga, who sits atop a lion and represents conquest over challenges and obstacles.

Siliguri, in West Bengal, was bustling with activity. The streets and many storefronts were decorated brightly with colored light bulbs and stages with colorful side panels had been erected all over the city with large idols of the goddess prominently in the center.

Dozens of people would be congregated around these and the nearby restaurants at any given time with the height of the activity culminating in the evening.

But to the unfortunate traveler looking for services that are easy to find on any other day, all those businesses were closed during the festival.

So I took the guy up on his offer to wash my clothes for 1500 rupees and eventually found a place that served pretty good coffee.

I then made my way to the City Center mall, which was business as usual. I got my pack cover along with a lightweight hat and a day pack before exploring the mall,. While in a bookstore, I met a group of extremely well mannered teenagers who asked about my travels. When I asked them where I might find a decent copy of the Hindu classic, the Ramayana, they surprised me by gifting me a copy to take with me.

I was considering seeing an English-subtitled movie called Brahmastra that is a big budget action blockbuster playing here now. I had unfortunately missed the showtime by about 45 minutes; so I decided to walk back to the hotel – a three-kilometer hike that took me through some poor neighborhoods of people, who were celebrating the Durga Pooja in their own neighborhood temples or tending to basic needs by the banks of the river that runs through Siliguri. Having been largely in more touristy areas of the cities I had visited to date, it was humbling to see how the less fortunate live in a medium-sized Indian city.

After returning to the hotel, I wandered around and looked at the lights and activities before bed.

The following day was Monday, but still no services were opened. My plan was to head to the Nepal border and try to get my visa ironed out. I caught a car there, but when I checked the Indian immigration office, they informed me that India had closed the Panitanki land port to foreigners and would not stamp visas with the required departure stamp. The nearest land crossing, the official said, was a few hundred kilometers away at Raxual. I left there dejected but immediately started making plans to find a way to Raxual.

Getting to Nepal

I found an overnight sleeper bus that left at 9:30 p.m. that day, but only went to the city of Motihari. I would need to catch a second bus onward. I was able to schedule both buses online and was set to be at the Nepal border by 4 p.m. the next day, Tuesday.

I successfully boarded the bus to Motihari and it arrived at the destination about an hour late, which was still plenty of time to catch the second bus at noon. I sat around the bus station on the rainy morning reading as I waited for the bus to stop. Noon came and went and still no bus stopped. I became worried and started frantically contacting the bus operators. Turns out the bus went by my boarding point.

There was a local bus leaving at that same hour that cost a fraction of what I paid for the big bus I had scheduled. I angrily contacted the bus operator about my situation, and they refunded my money with little hassle. All was well and we made our way north without incident.

When we arrived, it was raining heavily and an Indian couple headed across the border split a tuk-tuk with me to the border crossing area. We went right across the border and they dropped me at the Nepal immigration office. That was a mistake.

As I noted previously, India must stamp the visa for exit before Nepal will grant entry. The Nepali officials started the process of granting my visa before catching this oversight and demanded $25 U.S. to help me resolve this. One official took me on his motorcycle back across the border and I pleaded my ignorance. I think I’m lucky it was the end of the work day before a major a holiday and the border officials were wanting to get me out of their hair. After a scolding as to my carelessness, the Indian official eventually provided the necessary stamp and sent me back across the border. The Nepali, however, encouraged me to give a tip to the Indian official for handling the matter.

Back on the other side, they did some more paperwork and affixed my visa to my passport and sent me on my way, but not before the Nepali official with the motorcycle asked for more money, which I felt compelled to pay.

After a short tuk-tuk ride, I was at an intersection near a bus station, where I spotted a cell phone service provider. I went up to the store and proceeded to get a new Nepali SIM car in my cell phone to use local phone service.

While there, however, I was thronged with people wanting my attention.

First, there was a guy who had an AC Volvo bus leaving for Kathmandu within a half hour. The deal was a good price for the trip so I told him I would take it when I wrapped up the cell transaction.

Meanwhile, the motorcycle-driving immigration official showed up looking for me and had me talk to his boss on the phone. Apparently, they had forgotten to take my picture during my stint at the office and demanded that I return to return to the border office.

Then a police officer showed up and started asking me questions. My suspicion was that he was there expecting to extract a bribe, but the immigration official dealt with him as I finished up the cell business.

So we got back on the bike and went the three kilometers back to the immigration office where we finished that piece of business. The immigration official drove me back to the bus stop after extracting another 200 rupee fee and dropped me at the bus station, where my luggage was still waiting.

I had to hurriedly hop on a local bus, which took me to the location of the night bus that was all set to leave. I threw my bags in the storage under the bus and off we went into the night.

Arrival in Kathmandu

Despite the excessively loud Bollywood movies playing on the bus, I fell asleep shortly after our departure. When I awoke and looked at my online map, however, it appeared we had headed west toward Pokhara. In my mind at that point, I decided I would get off wherever the bus stopped and call it good enough. Eventually though, the bus did head back east and made its way back to Kathmandu, turning a four- to five-hour trip into an eight-hour trip.

Regardless, we arrived between 4 and 5 a.m. and the sky was still pouring down rain. The bus dropped me off somewhere on the west side of Kathmandu and arranged a taxi, who charged more than the bus cost to take me the last few kilometers to the hostel I had arranged in advance.

Fortunately, the hostel got me booked in and I was able to sleep for a few hours.

And to my surprise, that morning, I got in the shower and there was hot water. And not just hot water, but the best hot water I have had in a long time. I mean, like more hot water than the shower at my house in Bellefontaine. It was the best shower I have had since I’ve been on this journey.

For the thirty-two hours it took to get here, it was like a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.