DISPATCHES

Keller

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As we arrived at the Indian-Nepal border after an overnight bus trip, we were greeted by the crooked demands of a community thriving on cross-border travel. It seemed everyone was out to clean the pockets of travellers and were extorting money at every juncture for substandard services. The porters cheated, the travel agents cheated, even the bus operators cheated.

Finally, we boarded a bus bound for Gorakhpur after paying an outrageous baggage charge and buying our bus tickets twice. The cheating, teenaged travel agent smiled and snickered as we passed. I reached out of the bus window attempting to grab the youngster. Dan, having been pushed one step too far, yelled, "stop the bus!" and got off to chase him down yelling, "I want my ticket!" He finalized his demands with a strong, shaking grip on the boy's shoulders and a firm push against the bus.

Next, Dan approached the bus operator with a second serious sounding, "I want my ticket!" The operator hastily produced the ticket. As Dan returned to his seat triumphantly, the local passengers smiled with pleasure at Dan's actions, one man saying, "These agents are not good men."

The operators had the nerve to request the ticket again before moving on to a young French couple to claim their ticket was invalid. The operator received the second fare from the couple, and we were finally on our way — or so we thought. Halfway into the journey, the bus would not start after a tea stop. The efforts of the passengers to push start the bus were fruitless.

A new bus arrived as we stood in the baking, Indian sun. We quickly transferred 17 bags and two sets of skis over the top of the bus and settled next to our gear on the roof with a few other travelers who could not fit inside the crowded bus. Riding on the roof turned out to be a joyous experience; kids waved to us and the views took on four-dimensional feel that was not possible through a bus window.

We arrived in Gorakhpur five minutes before the train was scheduled to leave. With the help of porters carrying our baggage on their heads, we arrived at the train platform 15 minutes past the departure time. Thankfully, the train was delayed two hours. We had made it, but the cost a was two hours frying in the Indian sun. We eventually boarded a train bound for Amritsar, India, a 24-hour ride away.

We had confirmed reservations for sleeper cars. I almost fell asleep immediately, but the problem was that no one else was sleeping. I was awoken for a Dal Bhat dinner, by the drunk who wanted to move our baggage, by the police, by the train conductor, by young children sitting in my sleeper, and finally by Lakpa sitting in my sleeper because his sleeper was now occupied by a young engineering student. Looking around, there were people sleeping everywhere. The floor was covered with people, the sleepers were covered with people, even the corridor in front of the rest rooms was covered with people sleeping in the stench from the toilets.

We eventually arrived in Amritsar somehow refreshed and fortified by the wonderfully charming and diverse people we had met on the way. Settling into the hotel, we found time to eat and visit the impressive Golden Temple. The Sikhs who worship on the temple grounds bath in the lake of holy water surrounding the Golden Temp. They were accepting, friendly and hospitable hosts. The only requirements for entrance are that one's head is covered and feet are bare and clean. Baseball caps must be worn backwards, as an intimidating temple guard with a long sword and ornate dress pointed out to us.

In the morning, we were off to the Indian-Pakistan border. The crossing was relatively painless except for the heat. I told an Indian customs agent that I was hot. He replied, "That's because it's 52 degrees." (52°Centigrade is 126° Fahrenheit).

Soon we were in Lahore, Pakistan, a completely different place than neighboring India. We arrived by bus in Islamabad, Pakistan, by dinnertime.

We had traveled from the magical, ancient city of Kathmandu, through the chaos of India, and into the hospitality of the Islamic Republic of Pakistan. We met diverse people along the way: soldiers, students, businessmen, engineers, religious leaders and children who practice Sikh, Hindu, Buddhist and Islam religions from three diverse countries. I have grown from the experience and only wish we had been able to stop more along the way. It's another excuse to further explore the wonders of India sometime in the future.

— Walter Keller, MountainZone.com Correspondent

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