An inbetween unchronologicality

This occurs after the 2 months traveling. The attempt of attaining an Indian visa.

After filling in the online application form in Pokhara and thereafter doing the Panchase trek, being back in town I got up in the early morning, first intention to walk to the tourist bus station. It was far, and just over halfway I did decide to hop on a local bus for 20rs. Beats the 30 proposals I received from lazy taxi drivers. ‘Only 300 sir’.

The lovely and bumpy 7 hour bus ride towards Kathmandu was thrilling once again.
This time more prepared, I had some nice music with me, not exclusively but surely containing some hard metal. Next time, I’m taking a big pair of headphones. It’s quite an experience to have growling death metal vocals being overruled in volume by high pitch Nepalese love songs.
For the rest the prices on the 2 stops were the same as 5000 meters above sea level, in the middle of the mountains, and the views were gorgeous as always.
This time though, the bus was 3/4 empty and we had all the space in the world.

Upon exiting the bus and ignoring numerous taxi driver and hotel owner shouts, I checked out a very nice guest house, that, as I discovered in retrospect was very nice and well rated, and usually double the price I payed.

This place was also really close by but not in the middle of the busy and tourist oriented Thamel.
I got surprisingly good prices in the same street as my guest house, for food and internet service.

So I started walking in the morning to what should be the half an hour away Indian embassy, of course, as the things just roll in Nepal, every 5 minutes of walking and asking how much further, 10 minutes magically got added to the walking time every time I asked!
So I started asking rikshaw drivers, expecting them to be cheaper than taxi’s, after all, it’s the price of a 3-wheeled bike vs a car and no gasoline is to be payed. Nope, ‘300rs sir good price, local price’. It’s not high season and I’m here for more than an hour, sorry buddy.

Then suddenly a weird, excited, smiling man on the older side appeared, proposing me a nice price if I would drive the rikshaw myself! The silliest bargaining begun, and after I smilingly walked on, he came driving next to me and accepted my deal.
My first rikshaw ride, and what an amazing one!

We were on the big road, surrounded by cars, motorcycles, minibuses,… the only non motorized vehicle in the vicinity. I think he barely understood the English he tried to speak himself, as he just didn’t care and counterbalanced his mostly nonsensical rambling with enthousiasm and laughter!
The most understandable of his utterances was ‘Money is toiletpaper! Money is toiletpaper!’ It’s the repetition that made me remember, he seemed to value that philosophy pretty badly… Not so much at the moment of payment though, but I held firm, and had an amazing time on that rikshaw ride. Learning not facts, but ununderstandable vowels and syllabiles about a few random buildings. Just amazing!

After waiting with a ticket queue in the embassy for half an hour or more, it was my turn and I could spend one minute with the lady telling me I had to turn back because my photo was not good and something on the application form as well. Now I’m happy not to be a part of all these angry and frustrated people at the embassy, as all was fine when I came back a while later. Also, the queue was gone. She said I have to come back in 6 days. Got some time to kill now…

This short adventure happened today, now I hope to continue the story of the 2nd month of my travel!

Posted from my phone, apologies for typing mistakes – Happy reading!