To Nepal.

September 14th, 2013

I left Delhi in the early morning about a week ago today, heading for Nepal. I was ahead of the morning traffic for most of my way out of the sprawling metropolis, but in India great masses of humanity are everywhere. The roads are never truly empty. I had no map, but the GPS on my phone provided a decent back-up. Mostly, I played attention to the major way-points, and stopped to ask people whenever I lost my way.

The bike and I are more of a spectacle outside the major cities. Despite the fact that India is a heavily touristed country, the majority of people have never seen a foreigner in the flesh. I had forgotten that crowds will most assuredly gather wherever I come to a stop. Like water bursting forth from a tiny crack in a dam, there is an inflection point where a few curious onlookers quickly becomes a crowd. At one refueling stop, I got some tools out to make a simple adjustment to the chain. I looked up only to notice that I had been encircled by nearly twenty people who had stopped to gaze at me, and the bike. I let loose a flurry of greetings and smiles, climbed back on the bike, and went on my way.

I reached the sleepy border town of Mahendranagar just before nightfall. I expected a battle with customs, but it was one of the easiest border situations I have ever experienced. The Indian official knew exactly what to do with my Carnet de Passage. The motorcycle was temporarily exported from India, and then temporarily imported into Nepal with 20 minutes. I purchased my visa on arrival for Nepal, and I was in.

Exhausted, I called it a night in Mahendranagar, and slept until nearly ten the next morning. I had splurged for a decent room with air-conditioning, and milked my stay until the last possible moment. I didn’t get riding until almost 1pm, but I was in no rush. I rode along what is probably the best road in Nepal, a lightly trafficked stretch which lies in the planes of Western Nepal.

It was nearing the end of the rainy season and the rice fields were twinkling emerald. The foothills of the Himalayan range were visible to the north, but the were small, green peaks were obscured by the haze of the planes. As the sun descended behind me the light improved, and nearing sunset the planes looked like an electric green fire. Not since Indonesia had I seen such beautiful rice fields.

In the late afternoon I met a middle aged Bengali man, Sujoy, man riding a 100cc bike from Leh, India, across Nepal, through Bhutan, and onwards to Arunachal Pradesh, India before returning to his home in Calcutta. In my eyes he was the greater spectacle, and probably the greater adventurer of the two of us. His trip would span just 70 days, which is a brisk pace considering the distance he is covering. We rode together for the last hour of daylight, me on a massive 750cc bike, Sujoy on the tiny 100cc engine that could. We were capped by the top speed of his bike, 60 Kph (just under 40 mph), but I wanted to stick with him. This man clearly had some things to teach me.

We split accommodation in a random Nepali town. Broken streets, dusty air, dimly-lit shops, power lines hanging everywhere – the standard for urbanizing zones in the developing world. Unsurprisingly, Sujoy and I share the same basic philosophy that all vagabonds: things won’t make me happy, simplicity is the way to go, personal freedom is hugely important, responsibility to others must be addressed; eventually. That’s the basic scaffolding, anyhow.

It was truly inspiring to share some time with Sujoy. He proved to me what I probably knew at the outset of this trip, but didn’t acknowledge due to fear of the unknown. I didn’t need a big bike to do this trip; I hardly needed anything at all. I didn’t need all the complications I created over paperwork, costs, getting parts, etc. I think I would prefer a smaller, simpler bike too. Of course, I’ve let go of this because there is no use regretting the past. And, at the end of each day, I’m quite happy with my bike. It wasn’t all that expensive. It is a complicated piece of machinery, but that is somewhat off-set by its reliability (finger crossed). It is cumbersome to maneuver in some situations, but it saves me from disaster in others. I think my overarching point is that anyone have these kinds of adventures, and that makes me glad.

Sujoy and I got an early start, and we were both headed towards Pokhara. The plan was for me to go ahead and find a place to stay, and he’d meet me the following day. We had 400km to cover. The road was decent, but the mountains would probably slow Sujoy to a crawl. I sped to the major way-point of Butwal, and made for Pokhara, slaloming around curves all day. I was comfortably sipping a beer in the garden of my hotel when Sujoy called. He had made it to Pokhara in one day, which shocked us both. It was his best day as far as distance covered, and time on the bike were concerned. 

He rested a day in Pokhara before taking off for Kathmandu. I followed a few days later, and am currently in Bhaktapur – a town near Kathmandu, but is far more beautiful. I thought I had visited Bhaktapur on my 2010 trip to Nepal, but clearly I was mistaken. Bhaktapur is stunning. There is a relatively outrageous entry fee for the privelage of entering the city-center. Much to my surprise at least some of that money (about $10 per ticket) actually goes to keeping Bhaktapur clean and beautiful, which is the antithesis of Kathmandu’s’ backpacker enclave, Thamel.

The garbage has been thoroughly picked up, the streets are swept daily, and most building are either fully restored or conform to some agreed upon, aesthetically pleasing architecture. Garish signage might be considered a problem, however, when compared to similar tourist hubs in the developing world, I don’t even have to ask a local to know that signage is regulated, and as under control as they can make it.

Central Bhaktapur is the ancient part of the city, and it’s still beautiful and functional. There are early morning markets, and local residents everywhere. Everything in Bhaktapur is a bit pricier than in Thamel, but for the aesthetics and pleasure of strolling through the red rick labyrinth, I’d say its well worth it.

After only two days in Bhaktapur, I'm off again. I won't be going far, or doing much when I get to my destination. I'm scheduled to attend another 10-day Vipassana retreat, and I leave for the center in just a few minutes. I've done several of these retreats, which are famous for the fact that they are silent. For me, that's virtually a non-issue, but it seems to be tantamount to outrageous for most people I talk to. Personally, I can be heavily introverted, and might go 10 days without uttering more than a few words while I'm traveling. This is not to say the courses are easy, but rather to say that trying to meditate for 11 hours a day is the hard part. Not speaking is a comparative blessing. 

I've got the normal jitters, but I am still looking forward to the retreat. They are very strong experiences, which can lead to beautiful insights about morality, ethics, and how to behave in this strange world in which we live. To exist itself is strange enough. What is self-awareness, and does it mean anything to be self-aware? What is that sense of 'I' we all have in our heads? My guess: 'we' are a story the brain tells the mind. What that means: I don't have a clue. Somehow that compels me to be kind. Life is confusing. Life is hard.   

And then there is the practical world in which we live; an interconnected web of geopolitical groups of humans, cultural values, and interdependent economies. How did this world arise, and how do we live in it? Here, I also don't have much of a clue. However, with regard to the philosophical and the practical, inward searching and reasoning has lead me to feel that I will be okay. I have the benefit of always having a humbling perspective close at hand. How many human beings did I pass on my way from New Delhi to Bhaktapur who are leading lives I find difficult to even contemplate, much less accept as my own? One million? Ten million? I don't know, but I see humble hero's every day.