Travelling from Sauraha to Pokhara was entertaining.
The first vehicle we boarded had a hole rusted through the floor that was cleverly covered up with a hessian sack.
The only downfall in this was that the hole was in the middle of the passageway. Potentially resulting in a tetanus ridden stumble the rusty teeth of the hole snarled when uncovered.
We bumped and bounced along through unsealed roads into Bhratpur and as the van slid along the muddy surface, the waters splashed up into the van and pooled on the floor like insipid tea.
Passing through a small town about an hour away from Bhratpur we stumbled on a curious sight. The road was closed for works, and all that was used to detour traffic was a log and a couple of rocks.
I thought it curious that this was all that it took to stop Nepali traffic from using a section of road.
Maybe this technique would be worth employing in other situations? Such as for traffic control which would have been suitability implemented during the landslide.
Further into the journey we were treated to the delights of five star facilities that would leave any person breathless. Even those equipped with the most sturdy of breathing apparatus.
In some cases you really needed to hold your breath!
Not very far out of Pokhara life presented itself in a sobering manner, much the same as it had in other areas. For some reason this in particular stood out to me.
Maybe it was due to the remoteness of the location, or maybe it was that this place was perched on the side of the road?
Watching as people tended to small crops as their homes looked less stable than cubby houses we built as children, I wondered about their ability to meet the most basic of needs; warmth, food, water, medical supplies when needed. All of which seemed out of reach to these people.
Still, this is the life that they are accustomed to and to presume they are not happy living as they are from an uninformed base is ignorant.
I thought about the situation my partner told me of in Lesotho, Africa, where roads and services were passing small tribal villages. The pressures of modern society creeping into a simpler life and impacting normal values troubled me.
There’s a magic I believe that we will lose in our world when we are all chasing the dollar instead of living contentedly in the moment.
This is best summed up for me in We Of The Never-Never and The Little Black Princess written by Mrs Aneas Gunn.
Some of the produce on sale in the passing small market towns was fascinating. Dried fish, by the school, all sorts of mushrooms, chilies, and Chrysanthemums were in abundance.
It would have been quite the experience to indulge in a local dish or two.
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