Nepal to India

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Crossing the Nepalese border and entering India is one of life’s greatest experiences…ok well that was a lie. Crossing the Nepalese border and entering India is actually a bumpy, dusty, manic, and poorly organized experience that leaves a lot to be desired.

We farewelled Chitwan and the two aussie we had spent a bit of time with at around 9.30 and trundled along in the bus towards Sunauli at a constant 40km/h for up to two minutes at a stretch before pulling over to pick up more passengers or for various other unknown reasons. We are convinced that the distance between Chitwan and the Indian border town is only a few kilometers but the speed of the bus journey and the constant infuriating stopping means the journey takes 5 hours.

Eventually the inevitable happened; the bus broke down. The accelerator cable broke so we had to pull over. Apparently broken accelerator cables are no big deal in Nepal; all you do is ask one guy to wrap the end of the cable around his wrist and control the accelerator (without being able to see out the front) while the driver remains in control of the steering and (hopefully) brakes. We drove like this for about half an hour before reaching a mechanic. Stopping for repairs was just another annoying stop along the way, this time in particular because we knew we were only about 15kms away from the border, however it was fortunately a quick stop and new parts plus labour only cost the driver 500 rupees ($7.50).

For another unknown reason the bus (when it finally reaches the border area) actually stops 4km’s short of the border. This means hopping off, negotiating with about a billion competing rickshaw drivers and then FINALLY getting to the border. It would really suck to be a truck driver crossing the border from either side as the lines are enormous and didn’t move while we were there. Going through immigration seems to be strictly optional. The Nepalese immigration building is like a house on the side of the road and we went in to get our stamps and then walked ourselves over the border - no gates, no guards, no passport or visa checking - and were all of a sudden in India. Like Nepal it would be a cinch to not go through immigration on the Indian side and we literally had to ask where immigration was. When we found it it was basically an open shop front with two men (not in uniforms of course) stamping passports without even looking at the photo page!

Rather than taking the local vomit bus (literally, don’t ask!) 6 of us tourists from Nepal plus a couple of Indians thrown in for good measure joined forces and arranged a four wheel drive taxi to take us to Gorakhpur for 100 rupees each ($2.50) in a shorter time. Gorakhpur is a dusty, dirty shit hole and we only had one night in a terrible room before catching the train to Varanasi to begin the next stage of our trip.

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