Sleeping in the jungle

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We'd celebrated our deliverance (again) heavily last night, combining beer with special lassi. Special lassi is just like any other lassi, a slightly sour yoghurt-based milkshake drink, but this had been pepped up with the very best marijuana which grows wild in the ditches and hedges around here. We'd been (good-naturedly) kicked out of the bar at some ungodly hour in near-hysterical laughter, and this morning our heads were aching badly.

We walked into the village for breakfast, greeting all the villagers and the mahouts who were walking their elephants back from their morning baths. After a lot of strong coffee, we felt sufficiently human to do a bit of shopping, and then hit the internet cafe for a few hours so I could catch up on the blog. At 4pm we were back at Park Side with daysacks packed, and jumped into the pick up truck with Gopal. We drove for twenty minutes until we reached a small village right on the park boundary. A villager, who was a very stocky Tharu guide who looked as hard as nails, unlocked the gate and we drove to the tower. It was tall and we climbed the circular staircase to reach the two basic rooms at the top. We dumped our stuff in one, Gopal in the other, and went for a short walk to the local watering hole in case there was anything having a bath. On the way a six foot rat snake shot into the bushes, startling the Tharu guide. He'd nearly trodden on it, and here, in king cobra country, it's apparently best to get the hell out of the way of any snake before worrying about identifying it. He shot two feet in the air away from the snake, but almost before he landed he was laughing and saying "rat snake, rat snake". They're harmless. Still, it made us jumpy. Ten minutes later we were approaching the watering hole and the guide shinned up a tree like a monkey. He whistled to Gopal who immediately dropped into a squat and told us to stay still with the flat of his hand. "Rhino with calf," he whispered, and almost immediately the bushes started to crash with terrifying power. Throwing all dignity to the winds, with the near miss the other day still fresh in my mind, I legged it in the opposite direction like an Olympic sprinter, Maya right on my heels. Gopal and the guide were laughing so hard they had to sit down, Gopal pausing for long enough to say "Don't lose your heart!". The rhino had left, indignantly and noisily, in the opposite direction. We headed back, Gopal pointing out bear poo (so they really do shit in the woods) and, very interestingly and not entirely conducive to our peace of mind, fresh pug marks from a large tiger. I swear they weren't there on the way out, 20 mins before. Fearing the demise of yet another pair of boxer shorts, I reckoned we should head back to the village for dinner.

In a mud hut constructed by weaving elephant grass around a wooden skeleton and then covering with mud and dung, we sat down with a village family for dinner. The woman kindly let us take photos of her kitchen (her oven was a small hole in the floor with a fire in) and then we ate the most delicious dal bhat ever. The Tharu guide and Gopal were evidently telling the villagers about our fear of rhinos, as every now and again they'd all look at us and laugh, but it wasn't malicious and we smiled back, slightly embarrassed. On the walk back to the tower, it was by now dark and the only light came from the moon and from a small torch held by the Tharu guide's son, who'd also come with us. We saw a hawk owl in a tree, silhouetted against the silver moon, and shapes seemed to move in the shadowy forest. We were glad to be back up the tower, especially when Gopal said "Now is very dangerous time, we stay up here. Even rangers don't walk down there now". Within minutes, we heard crashing in the bushes and grunting, which was apparently a pair of sloth bears (very dangerous to humans) fighting over food, not twenty feet away. Gopal tried to pick them out with his huge torch, but they made a sharp exit as soon as the light was turned on.

The forest by now was alive with sound. Crickets, frogs, cicadas all chirruped ceaselessly, creating a hypnotic backing for the soundtrack of birdsong which was as varied as an orchestra. Drongos boomed, owls hooted, peacocks squawked and hundreds more birds of which I can't remember (although Gopal took great pleasure in picking out each one, naming it, its habits, colouration, favourite food and shoe size) added their voices to this almost ethereal choir. The outline of the forest loomed from the milky mist, and trees, grass, earth and the faces of the people around us (Gopal, the guide and his son) were all picked out in exquisitely subtle shades of black. We sat, perfectly still, listening to this incredible cacophony of sound. As a new bird made its presence known, Gopal would tilt his head slightly to one side, eyes shining in the moonlight, before smiling to himself and nodding and whispering to us the aforementioned information in that David Attenborough-style hushed tone so beloved of birdwatchers.

He also told us stories of his time at the park, and as the rhino was a particularly relevant subject that night, we asked how close he'd come to copping it from one.

"Once I am guiding tourist in the park with my friend, on foot. A big female rhino with calf, we surprise it by mistake. I shout to my friend to take tourists away in one direction, but he doesn't hear and takes them the wrong way. The rhino charge at them very fast. I run in front of it, and take my stick," here he motions towards his five foot bamboo stick that never leaves his side, "and I hit the ground in front of the rhino very hard, like CRACK, and I shout very rude things at it. The rhino stop and look at me, as if she want to charge again. I run at it and again I hit the floor with my stick, CRACK! The rhino run away. The tourist, a German, says I saved his life and sends me these from Germany," here he holds up his very expensive Zeiss binoculars, "as a thank you." Gopal grins to himself. "We still write to each other."

I try to imagine Gopal, who is maybe 5'6" and built like a blade of grass, facing off with a one ton rhino. Truly a David and Goliath scenario. Every day I respect him more and more, this quiet, timid, unbelievably brave man who loves his animals and jungle more than anything else and who would do anything to protect them.

Then we had the spot of the night - Gopal, always alert, started, looked right down over the balcony at the ground underneath, and switched on the torch. Illuminated below us was a small cat-like animal - it seemed to have a pointy face not unlike a ferret's, but a large, cat-like body and a bushy tail. It seemed undisturbed by the torchlight and pottered around for a bit before heading into the bush. 'Civet cat!' remarked Gopal, "Oooh this is very exciting! This is better than tiger! I have seen civet cat maybe ten times before, in fifteen years as a ranger at the park! Very rare, you are very lucky..."

Later we hit the sack, Gopal saying he would knock on the door if he saw anything. We were woken twice, for two different species of deer, one of which was enormous (samba deer?). Other than that, with the sound of the forest ringing in our ears like a lullaby, we slept like babies.

19/3/08

Gopal was red-eyed at 7am. He hadn't slept a wink. His idea of heaven is sitting in the middle of the jungle, listening to the sounds and hoping to catch a glimpse of something unusual. He doesn't want to waste it doing something as dull as sleeping! He pours masala tea for us all (the Tharu guide and his son emerge from their room at the same time) and we wait for the jeep to return to take us back to Park Side. The villagers are all waking, and the children play whilst the women sit on their thresholds brushing their long, black hair. The men are nowhere to be seen. Maybe they're already out working, but I find it a far more agreeable thought that they're still in bed, pondering whether to bother getting up yet or not. The Tharu attitude to life is wonderfully relaxed and it shows in the serene, smiling faces all over the place.

We spent the day chilling out and relaxing, meeting up with the guy with the horse and cart we'd arranged to meet a few days earlier. He was very happy to see us and we arranged to go to see his house later that evening, after dinner. And this time we'd make sure we got there.

One shop in the village sells fair trade stuff, all made by the Tharu people. Paintings, clothes, food, all produced within a radius of a few miles. They sell honey, one of Maya's biggest weaknesses, and Om, the owner, allows us to taste all the different kinds he has, before taking us out back to see the beehives, the vegetable garden, the goats (for milk, curd and cheese), the fruit trees (bananas, papaya, dates, lemons and others) and to meet his lovely wife. All of the stuff he grows is organic and it is almost entirely self-sufficient - the goats provide fertiliser for the garden, the fruit trees the nectar for the bees etc. He insists we sit with him a while and drink masala tea. Typical Tharu hospitality.

Later I encourage the creative juices to flow with a couple of bottles of Gorkha, by far my favourite Nepali beer. After a marathon session in a net cafe doing the blog, we head off to meet the horse and cart guy. We go to his house, the by now familiar style of elephant grass and mud/dung, and meet his daughter Asmita. She's five and absolutely adorable. Her English is amazingly good. After some warm buffalo milk with sugar, his wife turns up. She's not so friendly, but manages a smile. She's been out in the fields all day, collecting grass for the horse. Her back must be killing her. He drops us back in the village and we have dinner before walking back to Park Side for a farewell drink with the staff, and also Michael who is also leaving tomorrow (for Kathmandu). It's our second goodbye to this place, but still it is difficult to walk away from somewhere so idyllic, peaceful and friendly. Sauraha village is a magical place, and we discuss with Gopal the possibility of returning to do volunteer work sometime in the future, teaching the Tharu kids English. It's certainly a thought, and to put our effort into a place like this would be so satisfying...

20/3/08 - Bus to Pokhara... again...

Once again we were up early and on the bus. We rolled past the place of the blockade with no probs and were soon negotiating mountain passes and narrow roads with heartstopping drops off the side. Maya was preoccupied with holding in a wee (didn't your mother ever tell you, etcetera). I soak up the frankly jawdropping scenery. Rivers and mountains are seperated by gorges and waterfalls.

Pokhara is located on a plateau in the mountains. It's beautiful, but much bigger and more touristy than Chitwan. Taxi touts are on to us like a pack of dogs as soon as we step off the bus, so I select the one who first approached us and instruct him to take us to the hotel we'd been booked into a few days previously. They're full. We walk along the front a little bit, catching a glimpse of the lake, and find Hotel Lovely Mount. It has hot water (whenever the electricity works) and, joy of joys, a bathtub! Immediately in love, we take the room, dump our stuff and go for a walk. There are many more shops here, selling trekking gear (Pokhara is widely held to be the trekking capital of the world, and hikes here can be organised for almost any duration for as far away as Everest) and hippy clothes. There are also lots of restaurants and bars. We sit on a rooftop bar and drink, agreeing that so far Pokhara is great. There appears to be a large Tibetan community here, something that I'm excited about, and lots of jewellery shops for Maya to visit. The mountains roll up into the distance, and right out the back of the town, partly shrouded in cloud and mist, the absolutely awe-inspiring Annapurna range loom on the horizon, climbing to 27,000 feet. There are lots of hippies and Westerners here, and we'd half expected the locals to be way less friendly than those in Chitwan - bigger town, more used to tourists etc. But it isn't true, and the Nepalese hospitality and friendliness is in evidence here too. We decide to stay in Pokhara for a few days, only moving on to Kathmandu two days before our flight to Singapore (and thence to Thailand). All over again, I'm falling in love with Nepal...

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Photos

The village where...
... the woman lives who makes the best daal bhat ever... and where we had dinner...

The park at twilight...
... pictures can't convey the sound of thousands of birds, crickets and frogs all singing at once...

Some kind of owl...
... Gopal did tell me specifically what it was but I've forgotten...

From far left...
.... the 'hard as nails' Tharu guide, his son, me, and Maya.

Comments

[Will]

Wow
I cant help but fall in love with Nepal and I'm not even there. I want to be there!! Grrr. You write so well, it's an absaloute joy to read. Cant wait for the next instalment! :D