Four's A Party - busing to Syabrubesi

As this was a travel day, I'd love to have nothing to write aside from telling how we got on a bus Syabrubesi. However...

We awoke at 4:45 AM, had to pack and catch a taxi to Gongabu Long Distance Bus Station. I grabbed seats and Kevin gave our bags to the man on top. This is a local bus so all baggage (and extra people) go up top. Nothing unusual.

Twenty minutes after we boarded, the bus was already crowding. We both thought, "come on already." The driver took his seat and I felt relief. Soon we'd depart on a 8-9 hour bus ride to Syabrubesi...the gateway to the Langtang Valley. My relief was quickly shattered as the bus driver turned on overly loud music. Kevin appeared perturbed as well. As it goes, the only functioning speaker on the entire bus was positioned directly above our heads. Either this is done out of kindness, the ticket sales man thinking, "Let's give these tourist the good seats with the speaker," or as a cruel joke, "Ha tourists! Give 'em those seats." Can't be coincidence. You can imagine how soothing Hindi music is at 6:15 AM. Combine nails on a chalkboard with a cat screeching. It's pure bliss.

A few more stops added more people to the already over peopled space. Kevin, in the aisle seat, now had a flamboyantly colorful woman in his lap. "Do you see this?" He asked me, unpleased with his new bus friend. I did. It was funny for a second because this always happens to Kevin. I squeezed my cheeks and offered Kevin some of my space. His scooting over spurred the woman to take a seat with us, three of us shared seat numbers three and four. We nearly had to spoon eachother to all fit into the small space. "Well, never thought I'd sit threesies on the bus," I said.

Music still blaring for everyone's listening enjoyment, our bus buddy departed. We sighed and moved back into our own seats. It was short lived. Next, a woman and her baby joined our duo. The four of us sat uncomfortably, trying not to bounce onto each our too firmly. Occasionally the music would switch to a more subdued sound, only to return to metallic sounding horns at a deafening volume. This didn't do much to drown out the occasionally crying baby we were now sharing our bench with.

I forgot to mention the leg space. There wasn't any. At 5'4" and with short legs for my height, I shouldn't have a problem in this department. I sat with my kneecaps crammed against the hard plastic backing of the seat ahead of me. Kevin suffered the same, although probably a tad bit worse. He is taller.

Four hours in and we were sweating profusely as the hot sun beat down upon our bus. Two different people had puked out the window in front of ours by now. We were nearing triple capacity by this point too. Double the people inside and the rest on top. Overweighted, we crawled so slowly a breeze barely entered my fully open window. Unbearable, I thought, and imagined the ways his could go worse.

"There are only four things that could happen to make his bus ride worse," my outlook was unusually grim.

"They are?" Kevin was curious.

"A flat, a mechanical breakdown, a head on collision with another vehicle, and rolling off a cliff," grim for sure.

"Oh, there are more ways," Kevin said, preparing to add a few on. "Someone could try to get on with a goat. Or a bee flies in and stings you. OH! What if you found ants living in your pants!"

Fair enough.

Then the rain started. This is the wettest pre-monsoon in years. "What are the chances they'll cover the bags with a tarp," I asked Kevin's opinion.

"Unlikely. I wouldn't count on it," he stated my exact thought. It was too late to worry about our packs at this point anyway. It was raining so hard, they'd already be soaked.

I looked forward. The street was a raging muddy river as the uphill ground eroded and slid onto it. Landslides have ripped buses off roads and over cliffs or into rivers. Kevin mentioned the rapidly moving surroundings and frowned. "It's not a good sign," I admitted (mentally adding landslides to that list of ways to make this ride worse). The rain eventually let up, but this wasn't until after the tourists on board had to get off to show our permits.

Back aboard and drenched, we vroomed onwards. A few of our fellow soaked passengers started causing a commotion in the back. Apparently someone had been left behind at the check post. The man's name was called without a response. "Chhaina, chhaina," a local yelled to the driver indicating that, true enough, we left someone behind. Unconcerned, our driver continued on to the next bus stop. The man caught us there and everyone calmed down.

We rolled into Syabrubesi in just over eight hours. Music still bumping, a slow drizzle falling. We retrieved our bags. It was obvious someone went through mine, top opened and water throughout. "Eh, whatever," I thought. It'll all dry. Plus I keep my valuables on me so nothing went missing. Poor wannabe thief, rifling through one of the few tourist packs with nothing worth stealing. Some of Kevin's stuff got damp, but overall things were in good condition.

We picked Hotel Peaceful for our lodging. Anything peaceful would be a god send after that ride. We unpacked and hung everything up to dry. I'd love to say that this is where it ended, but no.

I went to the bathroom hoping to relieve myself after holding it for the whole ride. Since electricity seemed to be working, I went to flip the switch. As I pressed it, some water came out. Instantly my right arm started shaking uncontrollably. It didn't hurt, but it took a few seconds to be able to remove my finger. When I did, I realized I had just gotten shocked! I left without using the facilities to notify Kevin. "You won't believe it!" I said wide eyed and told him the details.
"You need to not do anything else today," Kevin instructed.

As I write this entry, the ride is already becoming funny. We made it, so it wasn't all that bad. Our stuff will dry and we've already downed some milk tea and hot soup. A pretty classic start to our last Nepali adventure.