What a Ride...

We arrived from India convinced that we know everything. And with reasons for that. It is one of the most demanding countries. In this case I thought that littlewould suprise me in a bus ride. How I was wrong. Any trip in Nepal, makes a trip in India look something luxurious.

The best of all, was the journey from Kathmandu to Syabru Besi in Lang Tang region. As every trip this begins with the purchase of the ticket. A small wood stall next to a bus is the official ticket office. The bus park is huge and almost seems to be a small city of bus, market and dustiness. With ticket in hand I enter one of those multi-colored bus that constitutes an iconic image of this country. My place is just behind the driver's and his age destroys my maxim that "if the driver does this for a long time and is still alive is because he knows what he is doing." Nothing I worry. After all, I know that I have no choice if I want to go to Syabru Besi.

The adventure begins just outside of Kathmandu, where the serpent we call road starts. You never reach a lot of speed, but our senses say otherwise. A hill that seems to begin under the bus and the bumps of the road is enough to trigger any heartbeat – even the most insensitive one.

Inside, people take their seats, built to the size of Nepali. It is the first country where I feel like a giant and my knees compete for space with the front seat. If there is a lack of place, there is always the roof. Which can carry bags, people and animals.

The soundtrack will vary between Nepali and Indian pop music. Or at least that's what my imagination tells me. My ears cannot distinguish the difference. The body becomes used to the bumps and the rest is food for the senses.

And when I thought that this would be like this until our final destination, a smoke comes from the engine and a driver yells something I do not understand, launching more excitement on the trip. And don't need to understand Nepali to know what to do. If a driver in the midst of smoke, stops the bus and gets out shouting something, I do exactly the same (without the shouting, of course). Like me, everyone does it and quickly the space isn't enough to all get out at the same time. Nothing that a little practice and pushing around woun't help to solve. Within 5 seconds we were all out of the bus, wondering how long it would take for the problem to be solved.

But since some good can come out of something bad, this short break is enough to get some fresh air. We are already high enough to get a sense of the mountain. In between cigarettes, small conversations and confirmation that the problem is not resolved, the time passes quickly. And when a queue starts to form, our bus roars again and we resumed our journey.

Then came the curves and counter curves. By the middle of a stop at the request of a flat tire. This time nothing that took a long time. And while the bus continues I'm amazed by the landscape. Sometimes it seems that we fly. In my mind I keep the image of the ticket collector. He grabs in the open door and just hangs outside. Behind it is impossible to distinguish more than the air and the mountains on the other side of the hill. He looks like a hawk that comes by magic besides this bus. With this, I doze off until I reach my final destination. With the smile of someone who made a difficult but unforgettable journey.