So today we set out on our Nepal Expedition no 2. Things did not begin well. We arose early, did our last-minute packing, + carried down our belongings to be left behind, a large plastic carrier-bag full. Duty Free printed on the side. We encountered a serious snag when, contrary to what we’d been told, there was no locker available to take it. There was a cupboard under the stairs, but no-one there had the key. In fact the only person available was a young boy with shifty eyes… or is that prejudice speaking? “It’s alright, you leave here, you trust me, if it go missing, you come back + kill me.” Not good enough, unfortunately. First, I didn’t want to trust him, because he clearly wasn’t going to stand guard over it. Second, tho’ nothing in the bag was desperately valuable, we have so little stuff that we don’t want to lose anything. In particular, I have become inordinately + immediately fond of a new jacket I bought only yesterday. Third, killing him, tho’ satisfying personally, would solve nothing, + is, in any case, probably illegal. He told me his friend with the key would be back soon; then, that he would return this afternoon. Again, not good enough. I wanted action. “Now!” I bellowed. At this verbal violence, he became most upset, complained that it was not his fault, he was only an employee… + then began to cry. I was sorry for the tears, but did not consider my pressure unreasonable. Besides, if you’re the only one there, you’re in charge. But since he now refused to have anything more to do with me, + I was furious with him, we had reached a difficult dilemma… + time was running out. Fortunately, the impasse was solved when another guest came down + offered to look after our bag until someone with a key appeared. We thanked her, handed over our bag (now why did I trust her + not the Nepali boy? Prejudice?) + shot off to catch the bus. Then shot back 5 mins later when I discovered I’d left my money-belt under my pillow. It was still there.
The bus journey was long for such a relatively short journey, about 4 hours, with a break midway. We had been assigned to the very rear seats, where the ride is the bumpiest, + which, moreover, had had all the padding removed. Somehow tho’, it wasn’t as bad as it might have been, or as we’d feared. The road was spectacular, hugging the mountainside, with vertical drops down hundreds of feet just inches away from the wheels. Immediately we arrived at Trisuli, we prepared to set off, taking note meanwhile of the warning being offered by another couple just leaving. They had just spent 5 or 6 days out, + had not, apparently, enjoyed it. Ah well.
We had an easy 2 hour walk to the first village along the trail, Betrawati, following the canal serving the hydro-electric dam, + then the river. At Betrawati, there was a choice of 2 guest-houses, neither being very exciting, + we vacillated for a while between them, eventually settling upon one with no companion travellers, + an unexciting menu + room, but run by a far pleasanter lady. There was plenty of daylight left, so we sat around + relaxed – I wrote, while Val got on with her beadwork, both activities guaranteed to attract attention. One little girl in particular fell in love with the beads, + kept coming back to finger them. Clearly, she was aching to be given them, + expressing that ache in the best way we could. It reminded me of my own childish longings for things, usually belonging to people we visited. A large cuddly toy, I remember, made by a friend of mum’s. I also remember the hopelessness of the desire, wanting the thing beyond anything, yet knowing it could never come. As one grows older, one learns not to want anything, particularly the unattainable, too much. Just as one learns not to love too much, to have too much, to be too happy, too sad. Moderation – caution – in all things. Val has told me of similar yearnings – I imagine they’re pretty universal in the kingdom of childhood. Even so, we do get rather pissed off at being such objects of curiosity all the time – free travelling theatre for the delight + delectation of the masses.
Ate a small bowl of potato curry for lunch, along with some perfectly revolting sweet + smoky tea, then went for a walk. This gave us the chance of a chat, + we were able to come to a decision: not to do any more smuggling trips, even when returning to HK. Not, that is, unless absolutely necessary, for financial reasons (+ I appreciate that it will be easy enough to decide it is necessary when the time comes.) It’s very unlikely we’ll really need the money, + in any case it should be easily possible to make some on our own account by bringing in some stuff to sell, probably in India. And that with virtually no risk.
Our evening meal was dhal bhat – on this trip, it really does seem likely I’m going to get used to it. Afterwards we chatted for a little while with a young guy working for the Agricultural Bank in Dunche + he told us a little about the road they are now blasting into the hills, to reach a big zinc deposit, all of it financed with the help of the Indian govt. It is certainly moving fast. Our guide book has it as not reaching Betrawati, but already it extends miles beyond + above.
And from what someone told me recently, the roads up into the mountains, now completed, really are pretty spectacular, as well as inevitably having a major impact on the lives of the locals. And though it is a shame to lose the picturesque charm of a bygone age, it is scarcely fair to expect to maintain themselves in genteel poverty purely for the benefit of tourists and their cameras.
