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Published: March 6th 2009
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BE Warned !!- this one is a long impression and reading it might result in an uncontrollable urge to promptly book a flight to Nepal, next February.
When I started my no-planning-stage to Nepal, I fantasized about the Himalayas, about Tibetan Buddhist monasteries, about long tracks in thin air. Right of the bat in Kathmandu I realized that I was unquestionably "Templed-Out", and that if i see one more statue of Buddha I'd become a Born Again Christian with a Jehovah-Witness-Behavioral-Disorder. Just think of a light consistent knock on your door, one unsuspecting afternoon, and here is Mr. Travlin Z packing a Bible, covered in crimson colored lacy cloth, and offering you a word of pseudo-brotherly-compassion in a futile attempt on your soul.
So I wandered about aimlessly for a couple of weeks. Kathmandu, Pokhara, Nayapul, Biritanti, ..... long bus rides in a gracious pretty country. Hours of shifting scenery, transfiguring in my semi-focused gaze. Slowly and unyieldingly readjusting my weight on the hard wooden bus seats that could have worked wonders if introduced to Abu Ghraib's "Donald Rumsfeld's- interrogations institute".
Landscapes of intricate mosaics, molded out of form-fitting rice fields interlaced with tall rows of corn plants. Jigsaw
puzzles made from patches in various shades of green, hugging and caressing the contours of the terrain. Snow capped Himalayan peaks peeping through heavenly bleached, slow moving, cloud formations. Then a rows of women laboring ankle deep in flooded fields, planting rice, alongside sluggish water buffalos, in 3rd world silence. Endless hours of music on the iPod.
Then one day, in a small village, paved with black-slate streets, i met a traveler who told me about Bengal Tigers, Black Rhinos, Swimming with Elephants and Crocodiles in southern Nepal. I asked her if she had met two cool french hippie guys that carry with them a small pharmacy of medicinal plants extracts, but she mumbled "Chitwan" and kept following her Sherpa, up-hill into the thick monsoon fog.
CHITWAN NATIONAL PARK
I'll abbreviate accounting this experience or risk losing some of you to re-runs of Gilligan Island, the Weather Channel, or regrettably - Alzheimer.
There are three main ways to experience Chitwan National Park in Nepal.
On elephant back - the most popular, though I declined to participate on moral grounds (Yes i got some!)
In a jeep - a lot more expansive and one loses macho
points for this one on top of the $200 when they pass "GO".
On foot. And yes you guessed right - i chose the latter.
According to the park protocol and the local labor protection laws one has to have two licensed guides (one in front and one in the back of the group), for safety.
When negotiating my tracking plan with Hup - pronounced "Hoop" - he promised that in 3 days tracking we'll see black rhino - "Guarantee", crocodiles, maybe a sloth bear ( whatever it is??) and we'll have small chance of seeing Bangle Tiger though the grass in the park is way too high in this time of the year. I signed in.
The two guides and I crossed the slow moving wide river into the park, the next morning, in a small canoe carved out of a tree trunk. Just as we hit the other bank we saw a huge crocodile and Hup proclaimed the event to be a great omen for a fruit-full animal viewing days.
Within the first hour of tracking we managed to see:
** Crocodile
** Spotted Deer
** Macaque Monkeys
** Magic mushrooms growing in elephant
shit (I know my shit)
** Tiger foot prints
** Rhino foot prints
** A huge Peacock on a tree
** A Mongoose
** An Eagle
As the day progressed, Hup proved to be a wonderful wealth of information in very clear English. The young man really loves his job and spends a lot of time educating himself on the park's animals plants and birds( 486 varieties in Chitwan). He does not like reptiles and avoid reading about them. I kept a mental note not to waist time inquisitioning his reptile knowledge-banks in case of a rendezvous with Mr. King Cobra.
Light rain started to drizzle and we tracked off the main road onto a path roosted in tall grass. I mean 8'-10' tall grass.
Hup was leading us in single file and Sunjay, his young nephew, was trailing behind me, lost in his own thoughts.
Then it hit me. We are in Bangle Tiger territory and the said pussycat can hide better then us, scent better then us, run faster then us, and most likely will find the three of us a lot more appetizing then we will find it. Oooppssss. My train of thoughts screeched to
a swooping halt. He can hear a lot better too, and probably was preparing his picnic table as we approached.
Suddenly the two chocolate-color Nepalese men on both my sides, and myself sandwiched between them and supporting a very white anti-tan skin, looked like an Oreo cookie waiting to become a mid-morning snack for Mr. Bangle Tiger.
Just in case, I started to measure my defense options:
** I can play dead - but wasn't not sure my performance would be properly appreciated in the big cat family.
** I can pull my Swiss army knife, if the tiger allows me the handicap, and:
a. make the Tiger laugh in delightful mockery at my attempt to produce the small knife blade out of the 15 options. oops toothpick, oops scissors.
b. I can use the nail file to dull its claws, if it holds still long enough for the manicure.
c. I can use the tweezers and pluck its whiskers - turn the firkin beast into a Metro-Sexual Tiger. Do They prefer white meat? - less cholesterol?
Hup kept a steady pace and his never-ending stream of information continued. I sealed my thoughts pattern about the
munching tiger and kept listening to Hup's explanations.
First blood was drown at lunch break and not by any large member of the cat family. While resting near a small creek I was honored, for the first time in my outdoors life, to share my blood with Mr. and Mrs. leech.
The rain increased a bit and I listened to the drops hitting the top jungle canopy, then bending the leafs and sliding down to hit the ground way below. I unfocused my hearing and the sound of the falling rain drops sounded like people clapping lightly. Audience reacting to the end of Shakespeare's 2nd act or the pseudo-sophisticated fans clapping politely and reservedly in Westminster Kennel Club dog show, just as the Bulldog hinds are spread apart and examined by the perverted Judge.
I bet you are saying "Zeev, cut the poetic crap and tell up more about the tiger and the leeches" and the rhino! " OK OK.. here we go...,
In the next day we saw
** A wild Boar
** a very rare and almost extinct bird name Giant Horn-bill
** 8' high termite hill.
** A red ant. (don't say
"big deal" - It was a Nepalese red ant.)
** Black Rhino necking with his G/f roughly 35' away. That was very exiting since Hup wanted us to climb trees and promised to call the rhino much closer to us with some jungle cry he learned from his grandfather or from Johnny Weissmuller. Sunjay was up a tree faster then a left hook from Mr. Tyson (before the ear chomping incidence) but i failed completely in ascending the skinny trunk. The fact that i topped the scale some 70 pound higher then Sunjay and that i was just about three times his age played it's roll.
Hup took petty on me and aborted the idea of interrupting the amours-rhinos. Good thing for him since i doubt any family member of mine would have paid him his guide-fee if he brought me back out of the jungle in a body bag.
**Then came one of the highlights of this outing. Hup spotted a Leopard watching us from his observation spot on a tree branch. This is a very very rare, and lucky for us, occasion. Leopards are almost extinct in this park, and to see one in day light is a
gift from the forest faeries.
to shorten this.... we saw more rhinos (including a very very short tempered mother and her slow moving chubby cub.)
and many tiger tracks.. but no Bangle Tigers.
I strongly recommend this place.... especially in February when the grass is cut short in most open fields to prevent forest fires and the chances of seeing Bangles increase 10 folds.
Wishing you love... light.. and anything you might wish yourself
Zeev
Ps.. i am aware of the anticlimactic final act of this impression. This is not an indication of writing fatigue or lack of care on my part. I have no excuse.
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tjp765
Tim
Shrooms
Yea you're right, the shrooms make me want to hop a flight.