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Published: June 11th 2013
I’m sitting here listening to JJJ’s countdown of the hottest 100 songs from the last twenty years …it’s kind of hard to concentrate. Especially when listening to Jebediah ‘Leaving Home’, I mean Jebediah was one of my ‘I’m a rebel’ bands when I was in my teens, and that song, well that’s exactly what I wanted to do when I was 14. Life was so tough, or so I thought. And now as I sit here in an internet café, in Nepal, a country so vastly different to Australia, listening to songs that sum up my teenage years, I can reflect in a completely different way. I can look back at my childhood and thank whoever it is up there responsible for my very privileged life. Not only was I lucky enough to grow up on a farm driving cars and tractors, motorbikes and go-karts, but I was given every opportunity my parents could find, to ensure I had the best start in life. I was literally thrown into every after school activity you could imagine; basketball, netball, piano, ballet, tennis, swimming, singing, saxophone, hockey, I think I may have even tried soccer?! I went home every night and was given
afternoon tea, before having the freedom to play outside until dinner, yes dinner, I was able to eat a couple of hours later too. A nice hot, nutritious meal was always served in a nice home, with my family, all of us in the one room, together. My parents followed me around to country towns hours away to watch me partake in the sports that I loved, it was far from cheap, but they did it because I wanted to play, even if in U/10’s it was only for two minutes of court time a game! My parents were in the position to give me what I wanted and whilst at the time I didn’t realise, it’s in situations like this, when you see children in dire straits, that you appreciate everything you’ve ever been given and give yourself a mental slap across the face for every time you’ve been ungrateful. For every time you complained, or grizzled or cried because it wasn’t the meal you asked for, or because you didn’t like your hair, or because you wanted the other pair of brand new sneakers, or because you didn’t want your mother to talk to you (yes, I may
have been what we call ‘spoilt’) or because well because you just wanted to sook. For all of those times, I really want to give myself a big shake and tell the childhood version of me, wow, the adult version of me to 'look around you and be grateful, for every piece of food that you eat, for every free thought that enters your head, for a place to sleep and a friend to call when you need someone to talk to, for your education, that amazing country that is full of opportunities that you were lucky enough to be brought up in and for the clothes on your back. Please remember to be grateful', I still have to remind myself. I don’t think I’m the most ungrateful person in the world, but there are definitely times that those of us lucky enough to live in developed worlds, complain about the most trivial things. I don’t think you can blame us, we live in such a world where complaining is normal, in fact in some situations we wouldn’t know what to do if we didn’t have to offer advice to a friend or loved one about a superficial complaint. We
live in a world now where everything is instant. We expect, we demand, instant replies to our messages, reward for our hard work, pay rises and new cars, new clothes, new technology. We’re so busy filling our lives up with things to make us ‘happy’ that we forget about the beauty that surrounds us everyday. We forget to look at the stars, at the butterflies and clouds, we forget to listen to the birds outside our window every morning. We forget how lucky we are. Now I’m not saying that I’m perfect, this is merely a reminder to myself that when I get home I need to keep close the wonderful attributes I’ve learnt again here in this country. I need to remember to try, at all times to lead a harmonious life. If I lead a life where I’m always grateful, where I don’t need ‘things’ to make me happy, a life in which I’m happy just for being on this blessed earth, I will be a better person.
The people here are generally always happy. They don’t have much in way of money or possessions, many don’t have jobs and many more have jobs we would never
agree to work, but they’re happy. There’s not always power or running water but they’re not complaining. They have family and friends and they’re happy. They’re always smiling, always making the most with what they’ve got, and the reason I’ve decided is, they’ve never had all of this nonsense that we’ve had. They have never had the desire to have the $200 pair of Oakley sunglasses that everyone else was getting for Christmas in 98' (oh mum, you could have said santa couldn’t find them?!!) they have never wanted any more because the people around them don’t have it, the people up the street selling the same goods in their shop don’t have it either. Of course in every country there’s the rich and there’s the poor and I’m not saying Nepal is any different, it just makes you think about your life, allows you to reflect on your life…it has allowed me to reflect on my life and appreciate every little part of it. It’s made me who I am today, someone who is capable of saying yes I was a brat, a very spoilt and at times grumpy child, I was often ungrateful and moody and cried for
no reason, but here I am, as a twenty six year old being constantly reminded of how lucky I am. Indeed life is a gift that we’re all given, it’s what you do with that life that you’ll be remembered for. I read this quote yesterday by A.A Milne and If it is one thing we can teach every child in the world, I’m sure the world would be a more peaceful place. “You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think”. If only every child was made to believe this one precious piece of knowledge, that they mean something.
Wow, that just spilled out of me at a million miles an hour. But it feels good. Now back to the reason I’m writing this blog. My adventurous trip to Bardia!
As I was sitting in Pokhara enjoying an ice cold beer on a rooftop bar overlooking the lake, it dawned on me that I must keep moving. Time was passing me by. I had already spent enough time relaxing after my trek and things were growing stagnant, and in the best possible way. Now don't get me wrong, I'd had a
fabulous time chilling out in Pokhara, eating good food, drinking nice wine, relaxing by the lake, sight seeing, reading, writing, practicing yoga. Life was almost too easy. So as I took my final sip of my ice cold beer I made the decision to move on. There was so much of this beautiful country I still hadn’t seen. It was time for the jungle, Bardia I’m coming for you.
The decision to go to Bardia was easy, as I wasn’t keen on visiting Chitwan, a national park full of more foreigners than animals. It didn’t seem like a wise idea to book a $100 plus three day tour just to say I’d been there. Of course I’d love to see a tiger, and even a wild elephant or two and there’s no denying I’d get excited if I saw a real life wild rhino, but when the very bored looking guy behind the desk of yet another travel agency unenthusiastically reeled off the schedule for said three day tour and when asked what my chances of seeing a tiger were, replied with a jovial ‘about 1%’, my decision to not partake in (what seems like it’s a right of
passage through Nepal) the trip to Chitwan was made much easier. As I was ear wigging a conversation between two foreigners a couple of days later in Pokhara, who seemed to like taking the not so popular option, I heard the name of a National Park I hadn’t yet been made aware of, Bardia. “It’s basically Chitwan thirty years ago” remarks the quite good looking eastern European (so I assume) and this comment is quickly followed up with “and you’re almost guaranteed to see a tiger”, by the equally good looking American girl. I stopped listening then. Did I need to hear more? I basically packed my bags that night. A national park, 16 hours from Pokhara, with hardly any tourists, wild Bengal tigers that you’re pretty much guaranteed to see, oh I’m there. The decision was easy, now I just had to work out the logistics. I went in and out of about 3 tourist trap ‘travel agencies’ before realising it was going to be far too expensive to book with them and instead that I’d try and coordinate movements myself. It turns out I was more than capable of doing this **Travellers tip: go into an agency, ask
for a quote, tell them you’ll think about it (it’s not lying you’re just thinking about how you can coordinate it all your self!) and then work it out yourself. I purchased a bus ticket for 1,500Rs, about a dollar an hour and then looked in an old lonely planet sitting on a bookshelf in a book shop, for the name of a guest house. I went to the internet café to call the number on said guest house, informed them I’d be arriving in two days and asked if it was possible to book different activities once I’d arrived, answer: “of course” and so that was that. I was on my way to Bardia, excited and ready for a new adventure!
The bus didn’t depart until 1pm, which meant I’d be arriving anywhere between 4-5am, at a little police check point in Ambassa, in the dark, with no one around (lonely planet warned me about this too, so check your book stores before embarking on a less touristy path, it pays to be aware!) exciting I know. Now I’ve already mentioned this on facebook, but for those that haven’t heard, the bus trip was well, a little spewy!
But we’ll come to that in a minute, we’ve got to get through the important parts, like me rambling on...
So I get in a taxi, the first organised taxi I’d had and it was in fact the cheapest taxi ride I’d had, only 150RS, thanks mate. I’m dropped off about five minutes later on the side of the road next to a collection of buses, people everywhere. I’m instantly bombarded with over enthusiastic men asking me of my destination. I tell them, “Ambassa”, “La, La, come with me” one replies. I follow accordingly. I follow him around in circles, and then I start following another man, this time with a big protruding tummy and sweaty forehead. I follow him around in circles for about three minutes and stand there like a lost puppy listening to him speaking what sounds about as clear as jibberish, to other sweaty but helpful bus men, the men in charge of choosing the bus for you. It almost seems as if it’s pot luck, which bus you get put on. After being palmed off to yet another man, this time not so sweaty, but by far the largest build of them all, and
being asked for the fifth time where I’m going I am lead across a hectic road to another small bus park and told that the big, dirty, rather unsafe looking, but ultimately typical bus in front of me is the bus that will take me to my destination. “Ambassa/Bardia” I question, of course being the ultra smart traveler that I am, I just had to make sure I was getting on the right bus, because that would be awkward if I ended up in Ilam wouldn’t it, although, with every bus ride comes an adventure, so it would have been fine I’m sure.
The over enthusiastic, sleazy eyed but generally well groomed bus man comes up to me and takes my bag, I insist that it must come with me inside the bus. I take said bag onto the bus. I decide said bus man may have been onto something. The bus is already half full, the people all staring as I try to put my bag between the seat I’ll be sitting on for 16 hours and the seat in front of me…hmmm 16 hours, with a bag in between my legs. It might be safe but there’s
no way it’s going to be comfortable, so I give it to the bus man and he tells me it’ll be “safe” with a creepy glint in his eye. At least he’s looking out for me right, if he thinks I’m going to marry him for looking after me, good for him.
I proceed to stand in front of the bus grill, in the shade and try unsuccessfully to shield myself from the thousands of dust particles being blown in my direction. It was a very dusty bus park. A very dusty and hot bus park, but thankfully, in not so typical Nepali fashion we leave almost on time. 1.30pm. We’re off. Everyone is staring at me. I’m dressed rather modestly, no boobs or legs showing, and it was so hot so I decided to wear a singlet, so here I am, as most of you know, a very pale skinned person on a bus with only locals. They’re looking and not in a scary way, they’re just excited to see another white body, another unusual face, and the children, they’re looking and they’re giggling, but not for long. I cover up, just for piece of mind, not because
I’m scared but just out of respect.
So like I said, we’d almost left on time and the bus is relatively full, in fact I think there’s possibly two seats left to be occupied, but of course, there’s always room for more. I’m quite comfortable actually, on my surprisingly well padded seat and I have a nice, not overly pungent smelling older man sitting next to me. But before we’ve gone even two blocks, the overly enthusiastic bus man starts hanging out of the bus door, calling out different destinations, and within five minutes there’s about 30 more people on the bus. Like I said, there’s always room for more. It doesn’t matter if there aren’t enough seats for everyone, there’s aisle space and aisle space means money. So, I have a man basically sitting on me and two more squashed up against him. It’s not like I wasn’t aware but it dawned on me. It’s going to be a long trip. This was only amplified about 15minutes later when said overly enthusiastic bus man starts raising his voice at another very loud voiced man from towards the back of the bus. They start arguing back and forth, over
top of one another, they’re not arguing like normal people, people who take turns. They don’t care about taking turns, they’re angry, both of them. I wonder what about as the loud voiced man from the back of the bus makes his way to the front and starts waving his hands around. I start watching their actions and find it hard to look away. I assume that they’re arguing about the price of the bus when the loud voiced man in question starts waving his rupees around and when the overly enthusiastic bus man points his gaze towards the floor... this is when I think said bus man is indeed ripping him off. They continue to ‘communicate’ with each other in a manner than would not be acceptable in public at home (if it happened it would definitely make it to you tube), although I don’t think they’re actually being hostile, in fact I think it’s just normal, normal to raise your voice (their language sounds like a song with it’s crescendo’s and decrescendo’s) when you’re talking to someone, and indeed it is acceptable to bargain, always. So I guess that’s what they were doing. I start smiling to myself
tiger! tiger! tiger!
there's a tiger to the right of that logwhen I realise the situation I’m suddenly in. I’ve been whisked away from the comfort of the somewhat touristy Pokhara and suddenly here I am, on a 16 hour local bus with well locals, to a national park I know very little about and as I’m thinking these random thoughts (when aren’t my thoughts random?!) I’m alerted to the fact that we’ve stopped. Two particularly well dressed couples get on the bus and after looking around they realise there’s no where to sit. Said bus man waves his hands, he doesn’t care, but somehow I gather that the locals don’t feel as calm about the situation. Again, I can’t actually understand what’s going on, but it’s fun to guess nonetheless, almost like charades, Nepali style! There’s one man, the husband of the very pretty older lady, that starts to ‘ark up’. He starts waving around his ticket. The fact that he’s got a ticket means that the over enthusiastic man better hurry up and enthusiastically find him another seat, because if you’re holding a ticket your bum should be on a seat, it’s common knowledge. So said bus man, knowing he’s in the wrong starts shouting to random people on
a bus, like a drill sergeant, but faster and within two minutes four people stand up out of their, as it turns out very temporary seats and attempt to rearrange themselves through the passengers. People squeeze and push and shove but nothing is said, no complaints or grunts, no excuse me’s or pardon (not that I was expecting English, but you know what I mean, nothing was said, nothing is ever said) and soon enough the lovely couples are content and sitting in their seats, just behind me, and I know they’re just behind me because before too long the pretty older lady started vomiting, which in fact started a chain of vomiting passengers. About twenty people around me are vomiting and we’re only 30minutes into the trip. I mentioned before how it dawned on me that it was going to be a long trip, well I wasn’t wrong.
So here I am, sitting next to the not overly pungent smelling older man (who thankfully wasn’t a spewer) and I’m listening to people throwing up. I’m listening to people shouting “plastic” and gesturing towards the over enthusiastic bus man who isn’t so enthusiastic about his plastic bag handing out
job now, and I see him start to frantically pull one plastic bag from the other, lick his finger and repeat. It could almost be a paid job there were that many people spewing. It turns out that it’s quite common for people of asian descent to get motion sick. This was one fact I wasn’t aware of. So for the next 16 hours it followed a similar pattern. The bus started to empty out at the bigger villages, but there were always people getting on, and still people in the aisle, only now some where sitting on small stools instead of standing and others sitting on arm rests, including the guy spewing next to me leaning on my arm rest and the guy below him on the stool, also vomiting. All I can say is thank goodness for headphones, and what a pity I didn’t bring my tiger balm (always necessary on long bus trips; to put under your nose to dispel bad smells) For 16 hours this continued, and whilst at times I felt sorry for those suffering horrible bouts of motion sickness (it was a very, very windy road) I didn’t feel so sorry for them when
they ate food at the breaks, I mean come on!!! Why are you eating, you’re just going to throw it up again. I did feel sorry for the family of four opposite me. They were in bad shape. The mother’s head was pretty much permanently out the window and she was indeed vomiting, not escaping the smell, as when we stopped for a wee break I saw the side of the bus covered in, well yes spew. SO here’s the mum violently ill, and then there’s her little son, no more than two years old, and he too is unwell. There’s no way mum is capable of holding the plastic bag for him, and dad is preoccupied holding a plastic bag over his young daughters face as she rids the mornings breakfast, so the toddler just vomits all over himself and his mother. This wasn’t pleasant to watch, but somehow I couldn’t look anywhere else, and unfortunately for them it continued all the way to Bardia. Ok enough about the spew, sorry for the over indulgence but as you can probably tell, it was an integral part of my 16 hour bus journey, the most exciting part. Besides the three
different men trying to cop a feel. Urggh, insight to India? Most men on the bus had been drinking, you could smell the stench of straight liquor coming off their skin and this one man decides to sit down next to me, on the stool and rest his filthy haired head on my arm rest. Now in certain circumstances I wouldn’t mind, but he’d been causing havoc down the back of the bus and it was the middle of the night and he stunk, so I started to kick up a fuss, trying my best to do my ‘I’m annoyed, get away from me' huffand rolling my eyes (the lights were on because we’d not long stopped for dinner) and so before long his arm starts to fall into my lap and at this point I’m tired and grumpy and I lose it, swearing I push him away from me, and within minutes a ‘nice’ man tells him to go to the of the bus. Of course he starts to tell me that ‘he could see I was annoyed’ and thought he had to ‘save’ me. Headphones instantly go back on. He spent the next ten minutes trying to talk
to me, regardless of me having headphones on, he must have clued on that I didn’t actually have any music playing (insert travel tip here), clever man… and this is when I told him to go elsewhere.
Finally I started to doze off, it had cooled down (it was now about 2am) and I had two seats to myself. We’d changed the faulty tire and drunk man was passed out in the aisle, so I felt both safe and weary, weary enough to get about an hour and a half of some sort of sleep before been woken up with ‘Hannah, Ambassa" yes overly enthusiastic man had remembered my name. I had arrived. It was 4am, indeed pitch black just like Lonely Planet had told me, but the stars were bright, and it was indeed deserted and the only people there were three policemen who spoke no English. My phone had just enough battery to make a call to the guest house. I call and wait in a small wooden structure before the police invite me into their little shelter. The mosquito’s are out so it’s a welcomed gesture. Within twenty minutes a guy rasta looking guy on a
motorbike rocks up, says he’s from the guest house. I get on and we ride through the early magical hours of the morning, stars twinkling above me as the wind makes my eyes water, on a motorbike. We ride for about thirty minutes, through water and down small bumpy roads. We arrive at the lodge with the mosquito’s more vicious now and I realise I’m tired. So after meeting the owner and being shown to my small clay shack, I retire to my hard mattress under the protection of my mosquito net until 8am.
As quickly as I’ve woken up, I’ve made the decision to go on a jungle walk. I haven’t decided anything else for the coming days, it’s important to go before nine, so my guide tells me. I’m quick to get organized (actually I was!) and he’s surprised to see me walk out of my room in what he described as a perfect safari outfit. Insert blushing cheeks here.
Well aren’t I glad I got up and got going, because today was the day I saw two wild Royal Bengal tigers, yes two, wild tigers, in the flesh, with my own two eyes. Two. Tigers.
In the wild. But I’m not bragging! However just for your information there is estimated to be only 120-230 Bengal tigers in the wild in Nepal, and only a total of 2,500 in the world!! So I guess you could say I was pretty lucky to see not one, but two!
So here I am, in my very cool 'safari' outfit with a pleasant enough guide beside me. He asks a lot of questions but he's pleasant enough and enthusiastic about animals, which is also positive, especially if that's your job! So we start walking, passing by small raised bamboo houses and huts, more cows than you can poke a stick at, smiling children riding bikes five sizes too big for them and fifteen minutes after leaving my cute mosquito infested lodge we arrive at the wooden gated entrance to the park, complete with old school park map. My guide laughs as he writes down my name, telling me it means 'to kick', I've since heard varied stories, which may have something to do with the way they spell it. Every time, however the spelling, it manages to get a laugh 'Kana' got the biggest laugh from both the
no silos here
drying wheat the manual way bus boys and myself, this particular day said bus boy yelled out my name whenever he could manage, with a big grin, and sitting there in my sweaty seat, I smiled too, and "a smile has no language barriers."
So back to my safari expedition. We were walking through a range of jungle, tall jungle-ish trees, tall and huge, their leaves fallen on the ground so as to make a soft carpet like path, then as you would expect, varieties of grasses, short and tall, bushy and not so bushy. There were huge trees in the middle of grassy fields and swamp like areas surrounded by new and old growth, quite beautiful. We saw many varieties of deer in our first hour, I think in total there's over six species of the light footed creature, including a dwarf resembling deer called the hog deer. Very short legs. So we're walking and walking some more, and I'm trying hard to ignore the impending heat of the day. I'm looking around and I'm trying to guage the vastness of this jungle that I can't really see yet, and appreciating the absolute silence, the no humans anywhere kind of silence, the silence
that allows you to appreciate nature, in it's purest form. I'm so busy doing all of these things when my guide suddenly stops me, with his stick (yes he carries a bamboo stick for protection) pointed back towards me, he thought he heard something. He thought he heard the monkey call, and when the monkey makes this particular call it means tiger! Each time we heard this call we saw a tiger, except this time. We didn't hang around long enough to find out, he was too keen to get me to 'the spot' and before long we were almost there when he got so excited he almost wet himself. Fresh tiger poo, and tracks, 'no more than two hours old' he tells me with a look spread across his face like a kid in a candy shop. Jackpot dollar signs flashing in front of his eyes. As I'm looking at the sheer size of this fresh tiger paw print I get the hurry along, "we must go quickly and quietly" he tells me. We arrive at 'the spot' no more than 7 minutes later and after some loud whispering to the group of three hiding in the trees I
find out that we've just MISSED a tiger, by no more than 30minutes!!! arggh you're kidding me. But because of the heat all the guides were certain that said tiger would come back, and come back he did!
Fast forward three-four hours sitting quietly in some bushes and the tiger indeed came back!! He came back to the vast spanse of water for a drink, those guides know what they're talking about. The excited whisper that took place didn't startle me, for we'd had about three false alarms, I don't blame them though, deer look awfully similar to tigers and sometimes even those monkeys get confused. But this time the whispers continued and within seconds my guide is tapping me on the shoulder (quite violently I might add) “Tiger, tiger, tiger, there's a tiger, can you see it?”, Well no I can't because you're holding onto me and I'm still sitting down! This tiger was about 700m away, too far to take any photos with my small lense, so instead I enjoyed the view. The sights of a huge male Royal Bengal tiger having a much needed afternoon drink, just amazing. Words nor photos could describe how exciting this
moment was, and for those of you who've been to Africa I envy you, because there's just something about such a powerful creature doing its thing in front of you, being, well a tiger. Amazing. The 6 tourists around me are all high on life too, so after about an hour of watching the guides all disperse, they're trying to take their guests to a better vantage point to see the tiger, but it's hot and I can't climb trees anymore (so I heartbreakingly discovered) and I tell my guide that I'm stoked, that I couldn't be happier, and that I'm happy to move on to another place. Well, can I just say, what a great decision that was. Because within an hour I had seen my second tiger, this time from 80m!
We were walking back in the direction of the lodge when we came across a guide with binoculars looking like he'd seen the jackpot, he instructs us (with military hand miming) to be really super dooper quiet. So of course I oblige. We creep towards him and after watching a pantomime between the two of them I realise we're onto something, there's either elephants or a
tiger coming. The guide has heard branches breaking and monkey calls for the last ten minutes, he's excited. The monkey suddenly makes a really loud 'tiger call' and they both reach for the binoculars, within minutes the other guide has moved off to collect his impatient German photographer guest and I'm instructed to keep low. Now hindsight is a good thing and I probably should have grabbed my camera, but I didn't, I left it tucked into the deepest corner of my bag. But I could hardly concentrate, let alone think about my camera. It was like that excitement you used to feel deep within when you were a child playing murder in the dark or hide and seek and you think you hear the person that's it coming to find you, so you don't know whether to get up and run or stay in your hiding spot. Well that was how I was feeling at that moment, only I was crouched behind a log (and needing to pee, always the case!) looking down at the river waiting for a tiger!! About three minutes later, jackpot! A big female comes down to the river for a drink, bless that humid
heat! And here I am, nearly jumping out of my skin, although not as much as my guide who's sitting next to me pretty much jumping out of his and again tapping me violently on the shoulder, just to make sure I'm seeing what he's seeing, and then as I'm trying to take it all in he taps me again and whispers (at a louder than acceptable volume for a whisper) to me to “get your camera, get your camera, camera, camera, camera x5, just in case I hadn't heard him. Note I mentioned that he was enthusiastic. So now I'm in two minds, to get my camera or to take it all in, I decide on the latter, but about five minutes later, after watching this incredible creature drink from the river and slowly make it's way across to wade in the cool water I decide to get my camera. Now this was hard, trying to be so quiet, because I'm so excited I can hardly open my bag. As I'm creeping back, watching the tiger in the middle of the river, my guide sneezes! Sneezes, a big unexpected and therefore loud sneeeze, and of course the tiger hears
it and is startled because it's merely 80m away from us. So it leaps across next to the protection of a log and we can still see it and I take one photo, but my guide sneezes again and this time the tiger feels threatened, and within ten seconds it's leapt across the entire width of the river and gone, never to be seen again. After all of that I had one photo, a memory that will last a lifetime and the regret that I didn't just sit and watch. Regardless, it's up there with swimming with those amazing wild dolphins, it doesn't trumph it, but it's up there. What an experience. I could have left the next day and been completely happy. I was happy and content and couldn't believe my luck. But I stayed two more days. I returned to the lodge with a big dopey smile across my face in thelate afternoon and conversed with the Swiss couple that had driven their Toyota van from Switzerland to Nepal, they were really cool.
The next morning I woke up early, in time for sunrise and the biggest mosquitos I've seen. I had breakfast and we left. Another
day walking in the jungle. We start walking, and we return to the same 'spot' as yesterday, this time there's about ten foreigners, this time I bought a book, and thank goodness. We sat there for almost 6 hours waiting. No tigers today, but a family of Rhino's swimming in the cool water, also fairly amazing, especially the baby. Ahhh what a great unexpected two days. The rest of the day was spent reading my book in the shade of a big old tree, that and pretending I was a successful animal spotter up said tree, yes after discovering I wasn't very good at climbing trees anymore I decided to practice, and practice makes perfect, or so they say. After about ten minutes I had successfully climbed that tree. It was difficult and it hurt and I'm definitely not as nimble as I used to be, but I made it up there and I felt very proud. I even spotted a few deer to feast my eyes over.
It was a very, very hot day and to be honest I'd already successfully seen more than I ever imagined I'd see, animal wise that is. So after walking through the
hot sun in search for elephants, the only animal we hadn't laid eyes on yet, I decided to call it a day. By the time we wandered back to the lodge the sun was setting and the mosquitos were out, unfortunately for my guide we weren't the last of the tourists out of the park, but I assured him I'd had a wonderful time and I was completely content to sit back and rest.
The following day was spent basically in or on top of a bus. I decided, after being convinced it was beautiful, to head to a nearby lake; full of lotus flowers and the prefect spot for bird watchers, or so I'd heard, my guide agreed. Now I never like to have any regrets, and I do not regret this day, but it's an easy day to forget. After hitching a ride to the highway (my guide had planned to walk, and it was about 15km!!) we waited for about half an hour in the hot sun before getting on an overcrowded bus to a town about 20minutes away. There we had to switch buses and wait for another. We hopped on another bus that took
us to the lake, about 2 hours away. We arrived at the lake and there wasn't one lotus flower to be seen, it was the wrong season! So the lake was nice, I wouldn't say magical, but it was nice. The only problem was I had a tag along. If I were on my own I would have happily found a spot under a shady tree and spent the afternoon reading, but I had an overly enthusiastic guide constantly informing me of pointless facts and disturbing my peace. It was also an extremely hot day, so all in all, like I said, not that memorable, or not for the right reasons anyway, or maybe I was just a little hot and grumpy! So here we were in the hot sun, after spending only an hour at the lake, waiting for another bus back. We waited for about thirty minutes, and then he insisted we stop at the next town for lunch. I was hot and tired and thinking of places I'd rather be. We had an ok lunch before waiting for another hour and a half for a bus. Bus finally arrives. We hop on bus. We travel for an
hour. We get off bus and get on the roof. I share the roof of the bus with increasingly frustrating guide and a goat. Day improves slightly thanks to the goat. We arrive at Ambassa and you guessed it have to wait for another bus. We get on the roof. Day improves again when I nearly lose my head to a power line. Excitement. Day really makes me smile when I walk back to the lodge through the village. Such a beautiful village. A big smile starts to spread across my face. Today wasn't so bad. Today was eventful and adventurous and memorable. Today I am thankful for simply being lucky enough to travel.
I left Bardia the following morning, again I was transported to the bus by way of motorbike, only this time by my guide who I swear was still intoxicated. Not ideal. But a very apt ending to a very random, enjoyable few days in Bardia. Thanks to the incredible animals for coming out to see me, for the mosquitos for not biting me all that much and to the very few number of like minded tourists that were in the park, I really felt at
home. I'm so glad I took the spew bus to Bardia!
I was also really happy that I'd chosen a stop over destination on the way back to Pokhara, Lumbini. Yes I was on my way to Buddha's birthplace!
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