We left Patnem on the 19th of November at 7am, all set for our trip to Nepal. We were well prepared as we had packed the night before, which made a change for us two. Leaving Sarah's bag in Arpora has proved to be a great decision, as more than likely I would be carrying the bugger!
We took a rather unconventional taxi to Margoa train station. Our driver was Mr Gracias (the owner of our Hotel in Patnem) as the expected taxi driver had overslept. We ended up in what must have been his son's car - a suped up Suziki with a body kit straight out of the boy racer manual. This alone would have been strange enough, but old Mr Gracias seemed to have been taking driving tips out of the same manual. Whilst overtaking at every bend, he told us of his numerous trips to the U.K, none of which sank in as our eyes were glued to the oncoming trucks, buses and cows on the road - I can always tell now when Sarah is scared, as she frantically rubs the black onyx necklace which my sister Ceri gave her for protection (After the last few weeks, I am surprised it's still intact).
Happy having made it to the station in one piece, we boarded the Mandovi Express from Goa to Mumbai. At this stage I was treating Sar with kid gloves, knowing that with the prospect of a three day plus journey, she might very well crack and throw a wobbler at any moment. My fears were without cause, however, as she was if anything much happier than me on the way to Mumbai. This was made clear when a group of elderly disabled women who I will politely describe as Indian Granny Mafia arrived on our train and insisted rudely that we move from our booked seats so they could sleep (this was midday) - I have to admit to my eternal shame that I lost my cool and shouted at a disabled granny (I hasten to add that I was unaware this granny was deaf and dumb, not that it makes much difference). To her credit, Sarah found the conductor and sorted us two more seats down the train. Apart from this embarrasing little incident, the Mandovi Express was a very comfortable train, I had a great meal of spicy chicken and fried rice - Sarah didnt eat for fear of train food, which was to be a big mistake in hindsight. We arrived in Mumbai twelve hours after leaving Goa, feeling none too bad and looking forward to a good soak and rest before the start of the BIG journey early the next day.
Unfortunately, we didnt take into consideration the traffic in Mumbai. The 15km from Victoria Terminus to our hotel took over two and a half hours, but felt more like five. Outside the station we bargained for a fair price and the taxi driver gave the impression that he knew where to go... sort of, so we jumped into the back of the black and yellow Ambassador and joined the bedlam on the roads. Being in Goa had pushed the memories of Mumbai traffic to the back of my mind, and now they came back with a bang. At times it feels like you are taking part in an episode of wacky races; with rules out of the window and any and every possible vehicle racing for and swerving through the five point junction without a thought for brakes. Further north, traffic is so bad it is more like sitting in a car park with the engines turned on. Without A/c we were faced with the choice of choking in the smog, or cooking in the cab. We opted for a mix of both evils. Looking again at the the taxi driver his bright red bloodshot eyes now made alot more sense! We finally got to the hotel around 1am and (in what was to be a rare stroke of luck) found the comfiest bed on our travels so far. The difference a soft bed and comfy pillow makes after 2 weeks of crappy mattresses in beach huts cannot be overstated. We just about managed a shower before collapsing into a deep slumber.
In what seems like moments, the alarm goes off; time for leg 2 - Mumbai to Gorapkpur, some 36 hours away on India's northern border with Nepal. We get out of the hotel and shout down a cab (with A/C this time) and arrive at the station just 15 minutes later.
Re-living the next part of this journey is not easy as it's down there with some of my life's low points.
I should have seen it coming I guess. "we'll be fine, no need to fly" - it will be a bit of an adventure" I had said.
All words confidently spoken to reassure Sarah, but leading us blindly into the hands of fate.
Late booking and high demand on the train had meant no confirmed seats for Mr Davies (M) or Miss Hope (F). This was the first sign something was up. At the station, we eventually learned that we had acquired one confirmed seat for sure...possibly. The Indian railway system works in a mysterious ways, I won't bore you with the details except to say we were in a bit of a fix.
Another possible warning of bad times to come arrived on the platform. A most persistent young woman decided to target me for some cash. For over an hour she ignored me ignoring her, pestering and pawing me with her badly burnt and mangled hands. Moving away from her around the platform didn't help, as after just a few seconds, she would appear magically behind me, rubbing her gammy hand on my elbow (this tactic had obviously worked for her in the past). After some time of this, I turned to face her, annoyed. Looking into her eyes, I saw her smile slyly at my frustration; it was as if this women's main aim wasn't to get my money, but to wind me up: fate had laid our cards on her table.
We got onto the train and waited for the conductor to see if we could get one more seat. No such luck. Our intended cash bribe was useless, as all the seats were full and we could either share the seat or get off the train - as the train was already on the move we opted for the former.
The first ten hours passed quickly enough, as we sat on the shared berth and watched the Indian landscape change slowly from hill to plain to wood as it passed us by. The trouble began when we both started to feel tired and were ready to get some sleep - now, normally a berth on an Indian train is just about two inches too small for me to sleep comfortably. With two people the only thing to do is to take it in turns to sleep. Great idea in theory, but when you have been woken up for the third time you tend get a bit grumpy to say the least. This led to me trying to convince Sarah that 10 minutes of sleep had actually been 2 hours and that it was my turn to lie down. I would feel guilty, but I know for a fact that she was up to the same trick. Dawn came on, concluding one of the worst nights sleep I've ever had - on a par with a midwinter's Saturday night spent lost on Aberdeen Docks with no money and no phone, wearing only a t-shirt stuffed with the Sunday supplements to survive the cold...Anyway that's a different story, after 24 hours on the train, things started to get desperate.
Lack of sleep was fast becoming the least of our problems. The food porters and chai wallahs that had been so prominent on our last journey had disappeared and we had no food or water to speak of; added to this Sarah had not eaten more than a pack of crisps since Goa. By late afetrnoon, the train began to empty; meaning we could at least finally get a couple of hours uninterrupted sleep. A lovely Indian family came to our aid and gave us some of their food - beautiful homemade papad, crisps and crackers, we were so grateful. however, with no water it felt a bit like trying to eat sand.
As more and more people disembarked and we hit out 36th hour on the train, the journey took a turn for the worse.
We started to forget just where we were going and why. The departing customers slowly revealed the amount of dirt and mess people can make on a long journey. The cockroaches took this as their cue to come out of the corners and stretch their legs on the almost empty carriage. For the last two hours the all pervading smell of shit and piss filled the cabin and almost mirroring our own exhaustion, the train took to a stuttering crawl.
"Only ten minutes more" the conductor said impassively for the eighth time. Only this time, amazingly, ten minutes later we did actually reach our destination. Were we really here? ........ Where was here? Why was everyone wearing strange brightly coloured nylon wire wool vests? The relief of stepping off the train was only topped by drinking our first gulp of water for 24 hours.
Gorakphur was by no means a beauty spot, but anywhere was better than that train. So what now? The station was packed with Indians wrapped in blankets, the aforementioned vests and warm wooly hats. The night time air this far north had a fair nip to it and I got more than a few strange looks wearing just a t-shirt and shorts! Especially as it was after midnight. Still nevermind! We had a hotel booked and just to be sure we had confirmed the room on the train, twice; once in English and once in Hindi. So, cold or not, we headed for the exit to find a rickshaw to take us to the Hotel Ganges. Stepping over the sleeping people and braving the ammonia stench of the station entrance cum local latrine without a care, we were happy. we had a room!
Or so we thought.
The auto rickshaw takes around 20 minutes to get to the hotel through the now quiet, dark streets. At the check-in desk, The receptionist is waiting.
"Ah Mr and Mrs Hope, we have been waiting for you, we very busy today. Wedding season yes"
"your room is ready" he tells us.
I notice one of the bell boys nearby sniggering. "strange", I think.
"Up on the Third floor". Something about the way he stresses 'third' floor sounds odd.
We take the lift up. We come to number 313, the 'room' in question. The porter looks nervous as he opens the door. A waft of mixed cheese and vomit hits us before we have a chance to look in. We move in closer as the porter ushers us in hopefully. On further nasal inspection, a certain Mr. Bobby Orange seems to have taken up residency (I can promise you it wasn't us, even after spending 40hrs on a train). Looking around, things get even worse. The walls, perhaps white at one time, are now either brown, red or greeny-yellow depending on which stain you choose to concentrate on. The sheets, which the porter is desperatly brushing down, have large lumps of greasy black matter from god knows who or what. "OK?" the boy asks half-heartedly; "No. definitely, not okay" we reply. In fact, at this point in time, if I was the proverbial camel, I would currently be in intensive care with a rather nasty straw based spinal injury.
So we leave.
Turns out our 'room' was actually the cleaners' quarters. A bit odd that, the dirtiest part of the hotel contains the people charged with cleaning it.
One thing did appear to be correct though. After trying serveral other hotels nearby, we realised that it was indeed wedding season and that Gorapkpur was jam packed with Brides, Grooms and Guests. It was by now well past 2am. We managed to hail an open cycle rickshaw, who took us to what looked and felt like the dodgiest part of the city looking for somewhere to stay. We also had a weird bloke with a walkie talkie following us. At this point I started to recall stories of missing tourists found minus vital organs. I didnt say anything, but as she gripped her necklace tighter, I could tell Sarah was thinking along the same lines.
"Railway Station - take us to the Railway Station please". I said again, hoping the message had sunk in, all that came back was a loud grunt as the driver turned down another, even darker street. Feeling a little like Mary and Joseph without the donkey (no room at the inn), to our relief we eventually found our way back to the station.
With no other choice, we slept on the station floor. We knew that at around 4.30am buses would start running for Sonali, on the India/Nepal border. After about an hour of surprisingly good sleep on the cold concrete floor we headed outside. For the first time since Mumbai, we struck lucky and got a cheap ride to the border. We jumped in the shared jeep which was also delivering newspapers to shops on the way. The man at the wheel must have known the road well, as he was hitting a average of 80mph in thick fog with no visibility. There were 10 of us cramped and jammed in the jeep; a good thing too as it was now bitterly cold. I had given Sarah my coat to wear so, doing the best I could to keep warm I wrapped her pyjama bottoms around my head and put on her cardigan. By the time the morning light started to creep through the fog and we pulled into Sonali I was looking very stupid but feeling nice and warm.
Sonali, as far as I could tell was a typically dusty Indian town with a few more trucks and a lot more dirt and rubbish than usual, unremarkable except for its status as a border crossing.
We got our passports stamped and jumped on to another cycle rickshaw to cross the border. To be honest, we would have been quicker walking as the driver didn't look in the best of health. Crossing with us were travellers from various nations, decked out in the latest trekking gear. Also pulling past us were busloads of Buddhist monks, both old and young. The latter stepping off in traditional red and orange robes and not so traditional white addidas three stripes on their feet. The monks had come to Nepal from all over Asia for a special conference in Lumbini; the birth place of the Buddha. We had planned to travel onto Lumbini as our first stop, but we were told that everything had been booked up by the monks for the next two weeks. This meant a change of plans.
Getting a Visa was a simple matter of popping into a small cottage on the right of the road and filling out a form that looked like like it had been typed up as an afterthought. As I always do when filling in forms, I made a couple of mistakes and asked for another. "Small mistake okay, not important. Just need photo and dollars" the man said as he smiled back warmly.
Exhausted, we booked a private car to take us the 5 and half hours inland to Chitwan National Park and straight to sleep! So our ordeal was over. The hard red dust plain of India slowly gave away to the fine white sand of Nepal's Hills. We had made it! As I drifted off to dreams of snow-capped mountains in the back of the car, I made a mental note to cancel our train ticket from Mumbai and book a plane back to Goa for Christmas.
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Chitwan National Park is somewhere I wouldn't have at first associated with Nepal. Tigers, rhino, elephants and jungle didn't fit into my imagination when I pictured the far off Himalaya towering above ancient temples and cold, clear lakes. But here it is, and a great surprise it is too.
The next day, feeling fully rested we went for a wander around the village. Our first impressions of Nepalis were that they are very friendly and polite people - We have noticed that the Nepalese people don't stare anywhere near as much as their Indian counterparts (especially those in Mumbai). The lack of hassle and touts meant Sauraha had a much more peaceful vibe than anywhere we have visited in India. Away from the main tourist strip, lots of farming villagers were going about there daily routines. It must have been Nepal's springtime, because as we walked around each turn we saw newborn calves, chicks and kids. Along side the huts, elephants were being fed by their mahoots and buffalo were idling along the road, lazily flicking at flies with their tails.
In the afternoon we went for a tour around the Government Elephant Breeding Centre. Seeing the elephants was a bit of a shock as they were chained up and some were unable to move (apparently for their own good) for eighteen hours a day. Unsurprisingly, these elephants looked more than a little bit mental, rocking back and forth on the spot - I hoped that our lodge elephants were treated better and this made me think twice about going on our elephant safari later on in the week. In the end I figured if an elephant didn't want me on its back it would let me know. leaving the centre, we went to watch the sunset by the riverbank.
At the end of the elephant safari we we saw a wild rhino - our elephant seemed alot happier than the ones we had seen at the Government Centre, although riding one through rough jungle isn't the most comfortable way to travel. On the other days we went on a canoe trip, a trek and a jeep safari. The jeep safari wasn't very eventful, though we did actually see a tiger in the jungle, just a shame it was in a wooden cage. It's kept there as it is a potential Man-eater. It's mother killed 5 locals and shared the flesh with her cubs - We must taste really good, because after feeding once, tigers love a bit of human apparently. So they shot mum and locked up the cub. 
One of the highlights of the week was the mid-day elephant bathing in the river. This was great fun. After being thrown from it's back into the river I got on the elephant again, this time from the front. Easy enough, you hold the ears and step halfway up the trunk while the elephant kindly does the rest of the work. Things were going well until suddenly, I heard a big rip and I realised I had a huge tear in my shorts in the crotch! So here was I, half way up an elephant, with around a hundred tourists on the river bank looking on, with cameras at the ready. At this point Sarah noticed my predicament and instead of helping she decided to tell as many people as possible (what on earth could I do? there was no way I was getting wet!- Sarah). Holding onto my dignity I happily let the elephant throw me off and ran to get changed.
Crocodile on the river bank
Serpent eagle at Chitwan
Us with Emma and Nat from Oz
Ben from Amsterdam and Karin
This was a cultural dance which was held at our lodge
Elephant Safari
The jeep safari - we met someone from Shrewsbury on this!
Andrew being thrown off the elephant during the elephant bath time. This was the happiest we saw the elephants - they loved the water.
We came across a Nepali wedding at Chitwan and this band was playing - not quite Ifton Miners band....
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