I figured, why try to make an interesting title for this story, when simply saying India should bring enough excitement to all!
Although Ive realized an intense and deep love for Nepal, both the people and the land, the colors are already brighter across the border. Starting our trip in Kushinagar, a few hours from the drab border town of Gorakpur, and the death place of Buddha. This is a good transition point from the homely more Buddhist Nepal into the largely Hindu and Muslim India. After waking up at 6am Thursday only to find out theres Banda (strike) and no buses leaving, Krishna, our Nepali uncle, came to meet us at Naya Bus park to help us find an alternative. He found us sitting on our bags listening to Tom explain her painting of her future. She showed us the four windows, of what she brought to Nepal, what shes taking, her fears for the future, and her hopes. Her fears were a big puddle of people floating about with no direction. Krishna went about the bus park like one of these people, trying to find us a driver, but they were all too scared of getting attacked by angry students and having their tires slashed and burned. In a dazed stupor, we got into taxis back to the house we all just said goodbye to, to the chowk (street) we braced ourselves not to see again, and to the golden buddhapark glaring in the sun. We happened to get into a cab with a driver who started to argue with us over the price, and then out of nowhere said "Israeli manpardaina..." (I dont like Israelis) "kinabahna ma lai Muslim" (Because I am Muslim). This was the first time any of us encountered this intereraction in Nepal, and it didnt come at a good time. We all started saying how many Muslim friends we have, until we realized the conversation wont go anywhere. The most amazing thing though, was when he asked why we came all the way to Nepal to help when there are so many people and problems in our own country that need help. Theres a line weve all been saying in the group and discussing all the time, from Hebrew text, that says " The poor people of your country come first". Never did I think I'd hear that line from a Nepali, where theyre all corners of the world to try to get a better life.
We came back to the house unsure of when we might leave, with little faith in the random driver who offered to call us taht evening. BJ, who we work with for Children for a Green New Nepal, surprised us by coming to the house ofr a meeting, and was equally surprised to see us all there. We went to the chowk to eat and listened to Bob Marley blare from the TV, wondering the everlasting question of how he got so popular the you can hear his words from every nook and cranny in Nepal. BJ and I finally made a plan to ride the bikes to Patan, the area he lives in, and make something more of this bizarre feeling of suspended travel, when Krishna called and told us we had a bus that would come to the cowk in 10 minutes. Now it was a question for all of us if we wanted to risk the travel, or risk the chance of not getting out of the country for a week and missing our train. After some going back and forth, we opted for the first and loaded our bags again. The whole neighborhood looked at this group of crazy white people walking back and forth, probably laughing at us because they knew there was a strike and we couldnt get out, as we bid our namstes once again. As 20 minutes of sitting on the curb went by, i began to lose faith, as BJ sat next to me chiding me on to just go get the bike already. At last, at around 530 pm, almost 12 hours after we were supposed to leave, a huge hunk of a bus came rolling up the hill. There wasnt enough leg room, even for the Nepalis, and there were iron bars poking into my back, but we were moving and getting out of the suspension, and that was enough for us. The driver navigated his way around burnt tires and stopped more time than he would normally, at 430 in the morning we arrived safely at the border. At some point in the night, as i lay dozing between sleep and the moving reality of mud roads at night during monsoon season, my sheet flew out the open windown. I woke just intime to grap the edge corner of it, but couldnt hold on against the pressure of the wind, and felt it fly away into the dark. It was a sheet Ive had for a long time, the type whos softness and light colors bring a deep sense of comfort, and even though a few nights before the mosquito coils had burned a hold straight thrw, i decided to take it with me anyway. I felt a moment of sadness, a literal emptiness in my lap, and the gap between my head and the windowframe where the sheet held my head and protected me from the bumping. I decided the best way to look at it was to embrace the symbolic transition from the comfort of Nepal and having a base, to the open road that lies ahead of me with no sheet as my cover.
And so it was, a night of travel to the border, a stop for tea, another bus to the crossing point in Sunali, stamping passports, and trudging through the depressing streets of another border town that couldve been aywhere else in the world. We got on the bus to Gorakpur while we got stuck for a few hours out of sheer exhaustion and then on a 3 hour busride that shouldve been 1 hour to Kushinagar. Because I am with a group of friends and dont have to be as aware as in other situations, most of those past 24 hours area blur of lifting bags on an off the buses and wondering why my bag is so heavy. Beyond that, I wandered from bus to bus, station to station, in a confused state of blissful stupor.
We are now staying at the Burmese temple, where the rooms are by donation, andthe hallway smells pungently like the Neem Tail anti-moquito oilwe bought from the Ayurvedic shop. Its a frightening mixture of smells from rotting onions and garlic to some sort of car fluid.
There seems to be an odd competition here for which country has the nicest temple, as tehre are representatives from Burma, China, Korea, Japan, Tibet, Srik Lanka--- and of course the International Guest House, which by far doest not inspire me towards internationalism based on its decor. The town is nice, the room has a fan, and we were able to sing Kabalat Shabbat at a restaurant we found. Overall, its a nice inbetween for us all to go on our way to the great mountains and deserts of North India that are awaiting us...
