Trekking in Nepal is a great experience.
However, most of these experiences are quite far from cities. So, getting to the beginning of a trek sometimes requires a lot of patience.
This is how our journey to Langtang Trek began.
We were promised a magical bus. It was certainly MAGICAL! You would never believe; the exterior absolutely immaculate but once on board it was an absolute wreck. Part of the tickets were usually cold water and the Nepalese MTV alias NTV and their rising stars. For a great success, one episode has been going on all the time, again and again, so after several hours of screaming of Nepalese stars (I mean the romantic song love for a young girl, somewhere over the cesspool) you say to yourself: ,,Why I did not walk from Kathmandu.”
However, instead of the magical bus that we had the opportunity to experience on the way back from the Trek, we were given a bus for the locals.
In reality, it meant – a home-made bus put together from parts of several other buses, cars, motorbikes and anything one might find lying around. In all visible places, it was properly welded in case someone was to feel it was unsafe.
The bus itself was designed for 30 people and 40 suitcases. Everything has to be placed on the roof, of course.
Our entry to the bus started with a slight shock when our seats were already full and the bus capacity was around 60 people, without us. The roof was already covered with about 80 pieces of luggage, of course. Total weight with the whole bus was 4 tonnes. The ideal weight for decrepit Nepalese paths. After we asked drivers helper (call him Rijal): ,,Where are our seats?” He told us: ,,I manage it for you.” Rijal managed it perfectly. Without sham,e he kicked out two people from the first line and was done. After this, we were continually stared at by other people
on the bus. Nepalese people don’t have any shame about staring at you for10 minutes without moving. A 178cm tall girl with green eyes I am sure was a is a shock, because green eyes are probably magic in Nepal. Similarly, a small girl with tattoos and dreadlocks, because tattoos are for the rich and dreads hair are only worn by saints.
After these looks, everybody got blue a plastic bag, except us, and we were off…
We had “only” 90 km of driving ahead of us and we estimated it would take 4-5 hours. In the end, it was 11 hours.
In the beginning, we did not understand the blue bags, but after the first 30 minutes of the ride when everyone except us and the driver vomited, we quickly understood their meaning and ultimate importance.
After another two hours, most passenger´s blue bags were full so some people began to fight for position at the door face; attempting to vomit directly out of the moving bus. Rijal was the main culprit. Unfortunately, we were sitting right at the door too, so we front row seats! Compensation for the best viewing position of NTV Rising Star.
However, we were still naive and hoped that it couldn´t be worse. Unfortunately, it was.
When we finally got back from the poor villages and entered the mountains, where we constantly changed elevation, we started to also feel very sick.
Ten-minute laughter bouts alternated with despair. Especially when we avoided buses on the side of the road, which was designed for a maximum of one big bus, not two. Here was the main role of Rijal, who stood in the open door and tapped in the metal part of the bus as we passed the others big buses to give the driver a sign that we still had a seat.
Adele naturally helped him by monitoring the whole situation from the first line
Our conversation was like…
Adele looking out the window: It’s good, we have space.
Me: Hope we will be there soon.
Adele: No, wait! It is not good. We don’t have space.
Me: What do you mean that we don’t have space?
Adele: I see only a two-kilometer precipice. That’s fucked. We will die here.
Me with a desperate tone of voice: So close your eyes, maybe we will survive.
Obviously, we survived. But after 11 hours of shaking, with a speed of 10 km per hour in a bus festering with vomit and two centimeters of dust covering our bodies, hair, and clothing, it was a priceless experience. When we finally got off the bus in Dunchee, we were probably the happiest people in the world. Or at least until then, we thought it