| Username |
Post |
| chipledhunga |
Posted
on 30-Dec-02 01:21 AM
Aaja bhanda thik dui barsa aghi, December 29, 2000 arthat 2057 saal ko Poush 14 gatay. Tyahi din ko samjhana ma yaha kehi kordai chu. I was scheduled to leave for Pokhara along with my Japanese and Malaysian friends (from here on, known as J and M) who were visiting me in Kathmandu at that time. Well, it happened to be during the time of the Hritik Roshan kanda. The previous day was the “Upatyaka Banda” called by the CPN ML. There were rumors that the same party was calling the following two days as “Nepal Banda.” Of course as usual, there was no word regarding this issue from the state controlled media. However, there were also rumors that other parties had been negotiating with the CPN ML not to call a strike on the King’s birthday. Without knowing for sure whether the strike was called off or not, the three of us left home around 5:45 am. As we walked through the Gusingaal ko galli, there were a couple of chiya pasals open but that was far from confirming that the strike was called off since shops away from the main streets are usually open anyway. As we reached Hanumanthan, we saw a taxi driver puffing a cigarette out of his vehicle, apparently waiting for passengers. That sight gave a little boost to our worried spirits.
As we crossed the Bagmati bridge and headed west towards Tripureswore, we saw a few more vehicles. By now, we were thoroughly convinced that the strike was called off. Tespachi pabitra Tukucha paar gari Rangasaala ko chewai bata Uttar haniyo, walking along the sidewalk raised high above the street. Tudikhel ko cheu cheu hindai we arrived Sahid Gate around 6:20 am, where we were supposed to catch our “tourist bus” at 6:30. All the tourist buses were supposed to leave Thamel and come that way. There was one European looking dude smoking a cigarette. He asked us in his barely comprehensible English if we were headed to Pokhara, I replied on the positive. It was a cold and foggy morning, and time seemed to pass very slowly. Many local minibuses, microbuses, and tempos stopped and passed by. However, no tourist bus was to be seen. While the three of us were talking and shivering struggling to keep ourselves warm, the grumpy looking European dude, who was apparently the only other person waiting for a Pokhara-bound bus, kept smoking one after another cigarette.
It was almost 7 am when one tourist bus finally arrived but that was not ours. Showing our ticket, I asked the conductor “Ek saya ek number ko bus audai cha ki chaina?” “Audai cha” was his reply. Other tourist buses, some bound to Tandi and some to Pokhara arrived after that and I asked the same question to the conductors of each of them just to receive the same reply. Eventually the chain smoker got into his bus. I now started having doubts. I was thinking that may be the operators of that bus thought that the strike was not called off and therefore decided not to run the bus. The two started teasing me, “You screwed us up. That bus #101 does not even exist. See, even that chain smoker is already on his way.” At the same time, I was thinking of a contingency plan of taking a minibus run by the Prithvi Highway Syndicate should our bus not arrive within the next hour or so. After repeating the same question to a couple of other buses, finally one of them said “la yesai ma aunus.” So finally around 7:15 or so, we were on our way to Pokhara.
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| chipledhunga |
Posted
on 30-Dec-02 01:24 AM
Bus pheri khataray paraycha. It belonged to Monica Travels. Unlike other tourist buses we saw, it did not have tinted windows. The two got the relatively better seats but I got the only other of the two remaining 2*2 seats. The aisle seat beside me was out of order; the backrest was tilting all the way back making it almost a flat seat. I used it to place my backpack. The window was missing a knob and was not stable. Banda garyo, ekai chin ma khyatrang khyatrang gardai khulihalne ani cheeso sireto le attack dinthyo. Tesmathi tyo knob hunu parne thau ko pwal bata aune chiso hawa ta chadai cha. After exiting the valley at Nagdhunga, we got a brief glimpse of the Ganesh Himal. After numerous twists and turns, and greeting numerous night buses and trucks headed towards Kathmandu, we arrived Naubise. Dr. Harka Gurung, in his renowned book “Vignettes of Nepal” states that the road between Thankot and Naubise turns 52 times. However, I have always been forgetting to make the count myself to verify his statement.
After stopping at the kar chauki to pay the rajmarga sudhaar kar, the bus sped to Dharke and crossed the Sungure Khola from where the road was to follow the Mahesh Khola. Ani Sopyang Khola tarera Juge Khola pugiyo. Just for sentimental reasons (since I had sipped numerous gilaases of chiya during my previous bus journeys), I wished the bus had stopped at either of those places for a gilaas of chiya but it did not. After passing through Mahadevbensi and Simle, the bus stopped on the middle of nowhere. The conductor yelled “Toilet!”
Aba bahira kaam kura sakaune baani ta afno chutisakeko rahicha. I walked about 50 meters or so around the bend and stood against the cliff to relieve myself. Many people did so closer to the bus while the ladies struggled to find a more private location. The bus moved on soon passing through Galchi from where we got a glimpse of the Trisuli which we were to follow till Mugling. Baireni bata Trisuli ko cheu cheu hudai we passed through Belkhu and Adamghat. During our momentary stop at Gajuri, I surprisingly noticed a “Snooker House.” Until a few years ago, pool khelne bhaneko Kathmandu ma pani common thiena.
At the junction where the road to Dhading splits, I saw a dilapidated Isuzu bus of Sajha bound to Dhading. That was the only long distance Sajha bus I had seen that time. Pahila ta kati travel gariyo Sajha ko hariyo bus dekhi liera nilo Isuzu ra Mitsubishi ma pani, both local and long distance. Dikka lagyo sarkari sanstha haru taal dekhda. Ani Malekhu ma macha becheko dekhay at several stores. “Janakpur ko macha Trisuli ko bhanera bechdai chan mora haru” bhanne sochay. A few kilometers from Malekhu, our bus stopped at the Blue Heaven Restaurant, which seemed to be a popular stop for the tourist buses. As we unboarded, the chain smoker’s bus was about to leave. He was on the line to board the bus behind a few other passengers, once again smoking. I was thinking, he must have been taking his last dose of nicotine before the next stop, which may be at least a couple of hours later. “Hey there is that chain smoker again”, M said once we were at an inaudible distance from him.
We took our seat right beside the river. Once again they started teasing me about our bus. “It is all your fault. The bus #101 does not even exist and now we are in this screwed up Monica bus. Even that chain smoker got a better bus.” So the screwed up bus got nicknamed Monica Lewinsky Bus, and later on simply the Lewinsky Bus.
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| chipledhunga |
Posted
on 30-Dec-02 01:25 AM
After a light breakfast, we were ready to continue. It was a clear day. At Benighat, where the Budhi Gandaki meets the Trisuli, we got a brief view of Ganesh Himal once again through the Budhi Gandaki Valley. Continuing via Charaundi, Majhimtar, the infamous Jogimara, and Fishling we reached Kurintar where we passed by the cable car to Manakamana. The bus briefly stopped at Mugling. M and J (who are husband and wife btw) decided to buy some oranges. They got off the bus, asked the price and must have felt that the vendor was trying to overcharge them, quoting Rs 40 for a kilo. I got off the bus, and asked her the price. She quoted me Rs 40 as well, but after some bargaining I managed to bring it down to Rs 25. Once in the bus, I asked a Nepali passenger sitting behind me how much he had paid for the oranges. “Das rupiya ma adhaa kilo leko” was his reply. Lau thagyo bhanya jasto lagyo. A few sarangi vendors boarded the bus, and started singing. We crossed the Trisuli and started following the Marsyangdi. The vendors got off at Anbu Khaireni, managing to make some money but failing to sell any sarangi.
Marsyangdi ko kinarai kinar Satrasayaphant ra Bimalnagar hudai Dumre pugiyo. That porition of the road had finally been repaired since my last journey in 1997 but beyond that it still remained unrepaired. Negotiating the dusty road with potholes, we left Dumre through Ghasikuwa (remember Bhanu Bhakta ra Ghasi?) and descended to Damauli via Musekhola. Damauli pani pahila ko bhanda nikai thulo lagyo. After crossing the long bridge of Madi and passing Tharpu, we stopped at a store on the middle of nowhere, which seemed to be another popular stop for tourist buses. Once again, as we stopped there the chain smoker was about to board his bus once again with a cigarette. “There is your good friend again,” I remarked to M. “Hey whatever..his bus is better than this Lewinsky bus” was his remark. Snacks and beverages were sold at outrageous prices. After a brief halt, we continued to Pokhara via Khairenitar, Kotre and Sisuwa. Seeing the stone houses, I became more and more excited about reaching Pokhara.
Back in 1997, the tourist buses did not go beyond Prithvichowk (though they could pick up passengers from the Lakeside on the return journey) supposedly as the taxi drivers’ cartel prevented them from doing so citing “pesenjar napaera.” Back then, the bus had stopped in an isolated chaur just before Prithvichowk and we were attacked like vultures by the hotel touts. I asked the conductor how far the bus was going. “Rastra Bank Chowk,” was his reply. That was slightly better news to me since it was much closer to the Lakeside and Damside but still I wanted to avoid the touts. I was thinking of getting off at Mustang Chowk and take either a short walk or a local bus to Pardi instead. I told M and J about my plan to get off a little bit before the final stop to avoid the touts. Both of them strongly objected, “No we are going to the last stop. We are seasoned travelers. We know how to deal with them.” I reluctantly agreed. Our bus journey ended somewhere between the Tragopan Hotel and the Rastra Bank Chowk, once again in a chaur off the road where we were surrounded by touts. I told them that we were on a very low budget and could not afford to pay more than Rs 150 or so. One of them represented the Jharana Hotel, which my father had recommended and agreed to the price I was offering. The deal was that we would get a free ride regardless of whether we chose to stay there or not. In an ancient Toyota Hilux, we reached our hotel at the Damside.
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| chipledhunga |
Posted
on 30-Dec-02 01:26 AM
Although there are more places to hangout in Lakeside, I have always preferred to stay in Damside because of the better mountain views. After checking in at our hotel, we made a leisurely walk to Baidam. Vehicular traffic was blocked in that area due to the ongoing “Pokhara Street Festival.” We decided to stop at a restaurant for a light lunch. It took a long time to receive our order. M remarked, “you first got the ticket for the bus # 101 that does not even exist, then into that Lewinsky bus and now probably this place is out of food.” He had ordered a veggie dish. L commented “They are probably still looking for the seeds to grow the vegetables.” My comment was “ You need the land to grow the vegetables, and buying land is quite a bureaucratic and chaotic process.” Our food arrived, and soon we were on a boating trip on the Phewa. Yeso Barahi Mandir ko fanko marera we started our stroll on the Lakeside and stopped for beer at a restaurant. One Indian woman asked me “Excuse me, are you from India?” Bhitra bhitrai ta jhanakkai ris uthyo, taipani trying not to be rude I replied, “No, I am from Kathmandu.” She asked me again. “We are going back there tomorrow. DO you think RB’s is going to be open?” “Probably since the strike has been postponed.” “Do you think if Peanuts is going to be open?” “Probably.” “Ok thank you, sorry to disturb you.” “It’s ok, no problem.”
Soon we left the restaurant and started yet another pre-dinner stroll. M and J bought some stuff needed for the trek that we were to start the next day. Thau thau ma there were folk dances being held on the streets. At the Lemon Tree Restaurant, they had a special Newari dish for Rs 50, which I could not resist and we decided to have our dinner there. A slim young lady dressed in traditional Newari attire served us “aila” from the “aunty” on that small earthen pot. It was so strong. We ordered the special dish, which was served on the saal ko paat ko tapari. Piro piro choela, alu ko achar, alu bodi tama ko tarkari ra chiura khaiyo beer sanga. They were also playing Nepali folk music. After a long time I had heard the song “dhunga lyayo syauli lyayo saunay bhel le..bhet bhayo maya lagyo karma ko khel le.” A little tipsy from the beer, I started humming the song myself. “Dr Stolte is there!” M said all of a sudden. Dr. Stolte was one of our economics professors in college. Jhasanga bhaera heray. M started laughing, Malai tettikai ullu banaeko rahicha mora le. We left the restaurant. J wanted some ice cream to kill the piro. After stopping at Baskins Robbins, we walked our way back to our hotel. With a bit tipsy body and a full stomach we soon crossed the unlit stretch between Baidam and Rastra Bank Chowk and retired at the hotel, planning to meet at the rooftop of the hotel the next morning for some photography before heading towards Ghandruk.
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| NK |
Posted
on 02-Jan-03 04:40 PM
Again, how long did it take you to write this???
It was pretty funny how you arrived at the name, "Lewinsky bus."
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| chipledhunga |
Posted
on 02-Jan-03 10:05 PM
NK, first of all dherai dherai dhannebaad hai for being the first one to comment on this thead. Ma ta yettikai bilaera jaala bhanthandai thie yetro dukha garera lekheko. Tukra tukra gari lekheko ho, from about 11 am to 2 am, actual "typing and thinking" time chahi 4 to 5 hrs hola. Plan ta 2-yr anniversary diary lekhu bhanne thiyo tara day 1 bata continue huna sakena :(
So any other suggestion to name the bus :)
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