Everything is going on a bit weird this morning.
No breakfast on my terrasse in the company of my feathered friends (too early for the cook?), but a strange tasting thing in an village restaurant.
The bus, supposed to leave at eight, is put in the shadow for an hour.
The cab that should take me to Dumre stops in front of a gigantic construction site that makes it impossible to get through. Therefore, one needs to go on foot over hill and dale and construction debris to another cab waiting on the other side.
No restaurant at the bus stop, but a nice old lady in a tiny shop, where I buy something so that I can sit down at the table (but it doesn't turn out to be chips but instant noodles). She also serves me a Black Coffee, so strong and so sweet, that it would have brought the biblical Lazarus back to life without the help of Jesus.
And most of all - no bus that picks me up sometime between nine and ten.
So I wait, and wait, and wait ... A bus for other tourists, scheduled much later than mine, arrives on time. But where is mine?
Observations while waiting
Many people miss out on small happiness while waiting in vain for the big one (Pearl S. Buck).
That's how it feels to me. So I'm looking for the little happiness. Maybe it's the family of the shopkeeper, a patchwork of children, teenagers, grandparents (?), uncles and aunts (?) and all kinds of friends of the family.
They drink coffee or tea or whatever the Nepalese drink in the morning, they chat and laugh, brush their teeth, play with the dog (which I feel a little sorry for) and inspect the chicks of a salesman who carries them crammed together in a basket on his head (I feel even more sorry for the chicks).
I have been forgotten
There are a thousand proverbs on the subject wait but none that can make the waiting time bearable for me this morning. On the other side of the street a yellow school bus empties its uniformed passengers into the street, while others already seem to be on their way home.
And I am waiting.
But then, it's 10.10 now, I hear a voice. "Chitwan?" And indeed, a young lad hurries towards me, repeating his question. I nod and then am loaded into the local bus, which leaves with a roaring engine.
Somewhat dismayed, I inquire what's going on. Apparently the bus didn't stop where I was waiting and simply forgot me. And I myself overlooked it, which is a casual sin in view of the heavy traffic. Only in the centre of Dumre someone noticed a missing person and sent the bus attendant back to look for the lost sheep.
A leisurely drive to the south
The bus is full, for once exclusively occupied by tourists. I get a few strange (pitiful?) looks when I get on the bus, but then the issue is settled.
It is a leisurely drive, initially along the Prithvi Highway, until the bus branches off about half way to Kathmandu at the Mugling Bridge. The route now leads south along a river that has dug a deep canyon.
Numerous transverse grooves have been milled into the road surface, probably to calm the flow of traffic. Whether it works is questionable, but for the bus passengers it is anything but a comfort, they are given a kind of chills every few minutes.
The Asian lady next to me falls into a deep sleep, her head sinks onto my shoulder, and as a gentleman I naturally don't dare to move anymore.
The heat
That the Chitwan, - District is located in the south of Nepal and therefore belongs to the North Indian Plain, is well known but the effects of it rather not. Because at the short stop after crossing the mountains the heat strikes like a steam hammer.
On the one hand a welcome change to the frosty temperatures in the Himalayas, but on the other hand a challenge. Because now it gets really tough. And so it will stay during the next days.
Sauraha
We now cross a wide plain, meadows, houses, streets look scorched, as if someone had gone over it with a flamethrower. Then a big city, Bharatpur, it seems to be endless, then another one, Ratnagar. I recognize the similarities to the cities in Northern India, everything is the same, also the people on the streets, the animals, the vehicles. I almost feel a bit like at home.
The day's destination, Saurahalocated at the edge of the Chitwan National Park, is small and well arranged. The bus stops just outside the village centre, a TukTuk takes me to my hotel, the Rhinoceros Homestay.
The room is okay, a huge fan on the ceiling will hopefully give me the necessary cooling, because it's hot as in the deepest hell.
And also the hotel manager is extremely nice and courteous, no wonder, because he also runs a tourist office. It offers, not surprisingly, jeep tours to the national park. In any case, after half an hour I have organized a trip for the next day.
The first elephants
In this heat one should drink a cool beer somewhere in the shade and wait for the cooling down in the evening. What most people do, because the streets are deserted, the restaurants empty, only me and an elephant give each other a quick look.
Thunderstorms and power failure
To the general joy of all in the evening a violent thunderstorm can alleviate the heat a little. However, the result is that the power fails (a phenomenon that occurs not only in thunderstorms, but on a daily basis, if for different reasons).
After dinner at the Apple Restaurant (which I'll be adding to my favorites for food and drink from now on), I return to a room that has really heated up during the day and will now offer me a fan-less night with estimated 35 degrees.
It's a great advantage to have been a rickshaw driver in Kerala in my last life and so I feel the heat as normal. And so I sleep surprisingly well, am woken up when at midnight the ventilator starts to move groaning and rattling and swirling the hot air around. More cannot be expected …
P.S. Matching Song: The Dead South - In Hell I'll be in good Company
And here the journey continues ...
