The local bus
After hanging out in Pokhara for a few days, I was anxious to start the Annapurna circuit trek. A few days before we started, I went to my hostel reception desk to ask about the buses to Besisahar, the starting location of the trek. I was told that they left every half hour. This was perfect, as I was expecting to have to leave very early in the morning and wait in Besisahar for a few hours before Jon, Heather, Matt, and Krista showed up. I went back the following night to book my ticket on a bus for the next morning, and found out that the local buses were the ones that left every half hour, not the more comfortable tourist buses. I decided to ride the local bus, which I figured would be cheaper and a unique experience. I was right.
I took a cab to the bus station in the morning. When we got there, the cab driver asked me if I wanted a bus or a microbus. I had no idea what the difference was, besides guessing that the microbus was smaller, so I told him I didn't care as long as they were a similar price and took a similar amount of time. He proceeded to pull over on the side of the road and yell across the street at a guy standing beside a white van: "Dumre?" he called, pointing at me. Van guy nodded. The cab driver turned to me and nodded, like I was supposed to know what the hell was going on. Apparently, that was my bus.
There were two guys running the bus: the driver and the recruiter, who was responsible for getting more passengers off the side of the road as we drove along. I got in after making sure with the recruiter the cost was what I expected. There was one seat left in the back corner, so I apologized to everyone I had to step past with my large backpack as I made my way to it. Soon after I sat down and we started driving, the guy sitting beside me, slightly younger than me and dressed noticeably posh with holey jeans and styled hair, pointed at my bag and asked if I wanted to put it up. I looked up - there were no racks or nets or anything, and no other bags up there. Then I realized he meant on the roof. Awesome. The next time the van stopped, I reluctantly passed my bag forward and as it made its way to the recruiter at the door, I prayed that it would be strapped down well enough not to fly off. Posh guy asked me where I was from, and when I said Canada, his eyes lit up: "Justin Bieber!". I laughed and nodded. He grilled me for the next hour about all things Biebs. Along the way, our van stopped several times to pick more people up. I thought I had the last seat, but I was wrong - when we picked someone else up, the recruiter just jammed pieces of wood in between seats where there were supposed to be aisles, slapped a pillow down, and voila - new seats.
Eventually, we came to a dead stop for a while. Construction. On the only road. Along with all of the other vehicles, we were forced to turn around and detour via a farm "road", which was a narrow path composed of large stones and boulders. It was less than one lane wide, weaved between grassy and gravelly hills, and had 5 foot high banks. We were barely big enough to fit on this road as a large van, but much larger tourist buses and jeeps were also forced to take it, some driving on both banks instead of the road. I was convinced that one of the vehicles, our overcrowded van or another, was going to break down and block everyone else, but thankfully that didn't happen. We spent about an hour on this road, pulling over onto the ridge occassionally to let other vehicles by and slowly chugging along ourselves, and as we got back to the paved road, the Biebs fan, myself, and the rest of the passengers breathed a sigh of relief.
After a little while longer, we came to Dumre, which was where I had to transfer to another bus to go to Besisahar. I literally got dropped off on the side of the road in the middle of the town with no instructions (instead of an area with some buses, like I was expecting), so I asked the recruiter guy: "Besisahar?" He made a hook motion with his arm and hand and the bus drove away. I asked a few other people as I walked through the town, and everyone did the same hook motion. Perfect. I interpreted this as my having to make a u-turn somewhere, so I turned down the first side street I saw and then again down a main street. Sure enough, soon I heard a recruiter for Besisahar, and followed him to a bright pink bus that had to have been from the 70s.
After another bumpy ride for two hours, first sitting beside a man and the affectionate pug on his lap, then a woman with a curious toddler who pawed at my backpack and hiking equipment with her Cheeto hands, I finally arrived in Besisahar. Of course, I got dropped off on the opposite side of town. It was the final taunt of the trip, but I didn't care - I was eager to see Jon and Heather, meet Krista and Matt, and finally start the trek. After a half hour walk, excited greetings, and a quick veg curry, we were off!
I took a cab to the bus station in the morning. When we got there, the cab driver asked me if I wanted a bus or a microbus. I had no idea what the difference was, besides guessing that the microbus was smaller, so I told him I didn't care as long as they were a similar price and took a similar amount of time. He proceeded to pull over on the side of the road and yell across the street at a guy standing beside a white van: "Dumre?" he called, pointing at me. Van guy nodded. The cab driver turned to me and nodded, like I was supposed to know what the hell was going on. Apparently, that was my bus.
There were two guys running the bus: the driver and the recruiter, who was responsible for getting more passengers off the side of the road as we drove along. I got in after making sure with the recruiter the cost was what I expected. There was one seat left in the back corner, so I apologized to everyone I had to step past with my large backpack as I made my way to it. Soon after I sat down and we started driving, the guy sitting beside me, slightly younger than me and dressed noticeably posh with holey jeans and styled hair, pointed at my bag and asked if I wanted to put it up. I looked up - there were no racks or nets or anything, and no other bags up there. Then I realized he meant on the roof. Awesome. The next time the van stopped, I reluctantly passed my bag forward and as it made its way to the recruiter at the door, I prayed that it would be strapped down well enough not to fly off. Posh guy asked me where I was from, and when I said Canada, his eyes lit up: "Justin Bieber!". I laughed and nodded. He grilled me for the next hour about all things Biebs. Along the way, our van stopped several times to pick more people up. I thought I had the last seat, but I was wrong - when we picked someone else up, the recruiter just jammed pieces of wood in between seats where there were supposed to be aisles, slapped a pillow down, and voila - new seats.
Eventually, we came to a dead stop for a while. Construction. On the only road. Along with all of the other vehicles, we were forced to turn around and detour via a farm "road", which was a narrow path composed of large stones and boulders. It was less than one lane wide, weaved between grassy and gravelly hills, and had 5 foot high banks. We were barely big enough to fit on this road as a large van, but much larger tourist buses and jeeps were also forced to take it, some driving on both banks instead of the road. I was convinced that one of the vehicles, our overcrowded van or another, was going to break down and block everyone else, but thankfully that didn't happen. We spent about an hour on this road, pulling over onto the ridge occassionally to let other vehicles by and slowly chugging along ourselves, and as we got back to the paved road, the Biebs fan, myself, and the rest of the passengers breathed a sigh of relief.
After a little while longer, we came to Dumre, which was where I had to transfer to another bus to go to Besisahar. I literally got dropped off on the side of the road in the middle of the town with no instructions (instead of an area with some buses, like I was expecting), so I asked the recruiter guy: "Besisahar?" He made a hook motion with his arm and hand and the bus drove away. I asked a few other people as I walked through the town, and everyone did the same hook motion. Perfect. I interpreted this as my having to make a u-turn somewhere, so I turned down the first side street I saw and then again down a main street. Sure enough, soon I heard a recruiter for Besisahar, and followed him to a bright pink bus that had to have been from the 70s.
After another bumpy ride for two hours, first sitting beside a man and the affectionate pug on his lap, then a woman with a curious toddler who pawed at my backpack and hiking equipment with her Cheeto hands, I finally arrived in Besisahar. Of course, I got dropped off on the opposite side of town. It was the final taunt of the trip, but I didn't care - I was eager to see Jon and Heather, meet Krista and Matt, and finally start the trek. After a half hour walk, excited greetings, and a quick veg curry, we were off!
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