Day 115 - Of Busrides and Border Crossings

We took the night train from Varanasi to Gorakhpur, the last stop on the Indian broad guage railway before heading into Nepal. The train ride was uneventful, but when we got out of the station, we were mobbed by taxi touts selling rides to the border. We had planned on taking the bus, but a shared taxi would be much faster, and we managed to team up with an Austrian boy, his Norwegian Girlfriend, and two Irish girls on their fifth trip to India and Nepal.

After much haggling, and many false starts, we were on our way to the border post. Almost. The taxi stopped about a kilometer shy of the border and the driver refused to go any further. The Irish girls berated him into perssing on, whereupon we were promptly turned back by border police. Turns out he was telling the truth (omitting the fact that the cab was unlicenced) and that he really couldn't take us all the way to the border. We (with the Irish girls very loud 'persuading') docked his pay by the price of three rickshaws to the border proper (he had after all promised to take us there himself), and finally made it to the Indian border post. Where we filled out exit form, and then walked over to the Nepali side.

The difference in the two sides was sudden and amazing. Both were hot and dusty and crowded, but you could feel the tension and volume levels drop the minute you crossed into Nepal. Suddenly people calling out "Namaste, Namaste" were just being friendly and not trying to sell you anything. All pushing and shoving seemed irrelevant - everyone at the visa office was going to get their turn, and the border officials remained good-humoured throughout. Visa fees handed over, passport stamped, we were ready to head into the land of Buddha.

The Norwegian, austrian couple were also heading to Lumbini (they had initially planned on going straight to Kathmandu, but we convinced them pretty easily that another twelve hours on a bus would just not be fun). The four of us shared another taxi as far as Bairawa, where the local busses depart. The only landmark we knew was the Yeti hotel, so from there, we took a cycle rickshaw to the Lumbini bus stand. Happily, there were no seats left in the bus, or I doubt I would have ever conviced Cz to go roof-riding with me.

Piled on the roof of the bus with the luggage, we rolled our way through 24 km of rice padddies, markets, and mango trees to the Buddah's hometown, Lumbini. In town, we went to The Lonely Planet's reccomended guesthouse. The rooms were not inspiring, so leaving Cz in charge of the packs, we went around to all the surrounding guesthouses. We finally settled on a place that was less dirty and very cheap. (Did you know that you can even haggle on the price of hotel rooms?!) By then it was nearing dinner time, so after droping our packs and having aquick shower, we made our way out in the street in search of food. Main Bazaar (the center of town) is a strip of dirt road less than a kilometer long. We settled on an open-sided food stall where an older man and his family cooked over open fires in earthen stoves. His children (with the exception of the oldest who was the chai expert) all played around the building and in the street just outside. I tempted the smallest one over with a caramel but he was too shy to talk. He and his brothers just stared and stared at us unabashed. Our many glasses of chai, fried veg tasty snacks, and rice plate all came to about 2.50 US. Suddenly travelling on budget seems possible.