When Fitness Really Matters
Today I benefited from decades of yoga, stretching and strength training. On a bus. With 50 or so of my now closest friends. And I mean “closest” from the viewpoint of we were stacked on top of each other as opposed to “closest” from actually sitting down and have a conversation to become acquainted. Conversation was out of the question as I was the only person on the bus who did not speak Nepali. I’ll start at the beginning.
Today was my travel day. My only task for the day was to get from Pokhara to the village where I will be living and volunteering for the next three weeks. Getting to the tourist bus station in Pokhara was easy and straightforward since Prem had helped with the logistics and I had done some initial investigation. My ticket said to arrive by 6 am, but I showed up 15 minutes early to be safe. Good thing too. The bus was scheduled to leave at 6:30 am but instead we pulled out at 6:10. There were only two of us on it as we drove off, myself and a guy from South Africa, who currently lives in Canada, headed to Besishahar to start some trekking. I have to assume that we left the station early since they knew we were the only two passengers to board there, but really it could have been completely random.
We traveled a few streets over and stopped at what seemed to be a local bus stop and waited for the rest of the bus to fill a bit more. There was quite a crowd of people milling about and a number of buses lined up in parallel rows. The conductors (I am not sure what the right word is) for each of the buses were running around trying to drum up business. Soon people began to trickle on, some with large packages. After sitting there about 45 minutes or so we headed out after I had long since lost any credence in any kind of schedule. Our trip was a short one, however, as we simply traveled down the road a brief distance then turned into what looked like a sports training complex. I saw what appeared to be several soccer teams out jogging and another group practicing karate or tae-kwon-do, not sure which. We pulled over and the driver and conductor proceeded to load a huge stack of rubber floor mats on the top of the bus. My experiences of the day made me realize that cargo and people both get moved, in equally mass quantities, by the bus system. They made short work of tying down all of the extra cargo and then we were finally off around 7:30 am. The ride over to Besishahar was uneventful, with one stop along the way for food and a bathroom break.
As an important aside, I would like to take this opportunity to congratulate all of my friends and colleagues that work in Aerospace, especially Aviation, on their superb design of aircraft- for they are quiet, comfortable, and provide generally, a smooth ride. As I was sitting in the second row of the bus, and the guy from South Africa recommended the front of the bus- less bouncy, I was amazed at the noise the vehicle was making. It was rattling, wheezing, grinding, creaking and roaring, depending on what part of the road we were on. Having traveled extensively via airplane over the years, I could not help but compare!
The street I sat on by the bus stop in Besishahar waiting for the right bus to show up.
We got to Besishahar and as luck would have it as we turned into town I saw the hotel I had been told to find. The hotel was a landmark pointing me to the local bus stop where I could find the bus to the village. I was thrilled that I found it so easily. Unfortunately our bus continued on through the town before stopping although I was easily able to walk back to the hotel. There was a bank across the street from the bus stop area with some security guards out front so I asked one about the bus to the village and he conveyed that the bus left around 2pm. I was so excited to be in the right place that the waiting did not bother me at all. Seeing a café next door I wandered over to have lunch and watch the world go by. For lunch I ordered a veggie tikka masala, curious to see what would show up. It was quite good, both buttery and spicy.
My lunch. The food here has been remarkably good!
Time passed. As it got closer to 2:00 I started paying attention to the arriving buses. The bus that I was looking for was, theoretically, pink and white. I saw lots of blue and green and white buses, but a pink and white bus remained elusive. Starting to get concerned I walked over to the bus area and started posing the name of the village to the various conductors but no one owned up to going to my destination. One guy, hearing me, said in broken English, “3:00, one stop, wait here”. I took from that to mean that the bus was running late and hung around where I was.
As I continued to watch the crowds it became apparent there was a huge clan of people sitting around me who were also going to my destination. I kept hearing the name of the village being bandied about and noticed some agitation in the speakers. I assumed they were all becoming aware of the fact the bus was late. It is pretty amazing how much you can pick up by context and watching body language. As I sat there and observed the crowd I felt more comfortable that I was in the right place. I could also tell that there were worries about the bus circulating. I started counting people- there were about 50 people there. Hmm. How big was the bus? I was betting that it was not that big.
An example of how the trucks are painted, although this is not one of the more elaborate ones.
The bus and the truck played a game of chicken. The truck backed up but the space between the two vehicles when they passed was almost non-existent. Typical traffic scenario here.
The white and pink bus finally appeared at the corner and the crowd moved, forming into the all too familiar wedge shape, anchored at the door to the bus, that I have seen almost everywhere but the US. (We are good about forming lines, since we are a rule based society!) It was a bit of a madhouse getting on, but I held my own, got on, and found a very small piece of real estate at the front, sitting on what I came to believe was the engine/transmission housing. I reached this conclusion during the hour plus journey as my seat got really hot! But I had no where to go and just had to deal with it. That bus was packed. I did everything I could to make myself as skinny as possible. I had people leaning against all sides of me. The person, who was sitting in the aisle in front of me on top of two bags rice, was using my knee as a elbow prop. Furthermore I was surrounded with women who had small babies. I had one small foot on my shoulder and a small head leaning against one arm. It took a while to get the three dimensional human jigsaw puzzle to maximum density, along with the various huge bags of rice, flour and who knows what else (spillover from the roof), but then we were off.
As we wound up the mountain road to the village, and it was a healthy up completely reminiscent of some of my recent treks, the engine would grind from one gear to another and as passengers we were jerked back and forth with every turn of the wheel. Because I was on the edge of the housing, with every bump I felt like I was slipping off, threatening to lose my precious territory. This is where my core strength, balance and flexibility came in handy- the combination helped me retain my seat more than once. On a positive note, I was pretty sure that if the bus tipped off the road, to plunge down the steep slope we were driving along, I would likely not be hurt since I had enough people around me to cushion any fall! It was all quite entertaining, a bit stressful, and definitely a unique experience. I wanted to take a picture to document everything, but did not want to appear rude. After all, this was daily life for these people, not a circus act.
I was told to ask for “Shamser house” in order to find when to get off. It was a bit nerve wracking, I have to admit, sitting there, hoping I was on the right bus (I was pretty sure about that), not knowing how long I had to be on the bus or even if the village was the last stop, hoping that I could communicate well enough to find out where to get off, and hoping that the people around me would help me (they did!). I was contemplating about seven contingency plans in my mind if things turned out less than happy. But it all worked out. Several people told me to get out at the right time. It turns out they are used to foreigners showing up in this manner as Shamser, my host, has volunteers coming and going all of the time.
The whole experience strongly reinforced my belief that, no matter where you are in the world, people are basically the same—they are super nice and want to be helpful to those who need help. I have run into this time and time again. We see so much negativity in the news and it is unfortunate those impressions create distortions, spreading fear and angst about our fellow humans. While it cannot be denied there are bad people out there, by far and away, the majority of our fellow humans are just simply basic decent people. By the way, if you are out and about in your native land and see some foreigners or travelers looking confused, please go out of your way to see if they need help; that could be you someday!
The scene this morning from my new home for the next three or so weeks.
My favorite line: last paragraph, first sentence. This we all need to remember. Also, turn off the noise and take in the present. Wow! What a trip! Namaste!!