Kathmandu > Mugling 110km

[Originally posted Nov 22, 2014]

Ugglhugh plugh.  I hear Katy clearing her throat for the fifth time in just as many minutes.  What’s going on, I think to myself.  I also feel like a frog is in my throat.  I ponder on the situation for a moment and then it hits me - it’s all this haze and pollution and that black exhaust these trucks keep shooting all over us.  Deep down inside our lungs are some specialized cells - some make mucus (to trap the garbage we are inhaling) and some contain cilia (to push all the mucous out).  Our mucous/cilia systems are in overdrive as we battle the haze and pollution that sits over the Kathmandu valley like a penguin sitting on some eggs.

Our 5:15am departure from Thamel, Kathmandu was a good idea; we beat most of the traffic out of Kathmandu and are now rolling our way 100km or so to Mugling, a small stop on the Trisuli River before we head south to the Terai and then on to India.

As we cruise comfortably down the winding, bumpy road we realize that rush hour traffic is predominantly in the opposite direction.  Good news, we assume.  But just then as we come around a corner a giant truck (decorated in flashy colors, streamers from the side view mirrors, covered in Shiva and Ganesh and other Hindu deities, a head or three sticking out the open windows) is barreling towards us.  You’d think he’d realize he’s in our lane and move over.  You’d think.  But then again logic often breaks down in countries where lunch for two only cost $1.20.  The truck honks its horn (if  you could call it one, it’s more of a little jingle) flashes its lights and keeps it course.  I steer off the road into the dirt shoulder and breathe a sigh of relief.  Wow, a near miss.  We could have died.  Good thing I was paying attention.  The peculiarity of the event sticks in my mind until about 7 minutes later the scenario basically repeats itself. Only this time we’re not coming around a corner, the road is straight as can be but the truck driver’s actions are the same.  What’s going on? I ask Katy.  I guess the driving rules have changed, she smirks back at me.   I suppose being the folks on the bicycle puts us at the bottom of the “who is bigger than who?” pecking order and we will just have to continue moving into the dirt when oncoming traffic decides our lane is better than theirs.  I guess on the upside the number of times we got thumbs up and heard, "Oh double bike, double bike, very nice very nice", increased dramatically from our riding in Europe.

Breakfast: 2 bowls of rice pudding, 4 chapati, 2 biscuits and 2 glasses of Masala tea: $3.10.  Yeah, we think that’s fair.

Lunch: 2 plates of vegetable chowmein and 2 samosas (my new favorite snack) $1.20.  To borrow a line from Jerry Seinfeld:  Do the people that work in those little shops have any idea what the prices are, everywhere else in the world?”

Pre-lunch was complete with Katy learning how to count to ten in Nepali and then a game of Hokey Pokey.  Any other suggestions for games to be played with children that speak an entirely foreign language?

After lunch the flag on our bike began to show signs of fraying.  I told Katy to be on the lookout for a tailor/seamstress on the side of the road.  We saw a young kid, about 15, behind a sewing machine and stopped and asked for the edges to be sewed up.  He did a bang-up job.  I asked how much his work cost and he refused any sort of payment.  I tried to give him 50 rupees ($0.50) but he wouldn’t take it.  I finally had to leave the money on the counter and walk off.  It was a very interesting experience that stands out in stark contrast to the many begging children elsewhere in the country - often seen in the largest numbers in tourist areas.

About begging.  It’s a tough situation.  For me, the two polar opposites on the “do you give to beggars?” spectrum are, no you should never give, giving to beggars (and especially children) reinforces this behavior and leads to laziness.  But on the contrary, King Mosiah taught, “For behold, are we not all beggars? Do we not all depend upon the same Being, even God, for all the substance which we have.”  And so I am always torn.  The man on the side of the street in Thamel who walks through the gutter with his hands because an obvious birth defect has left him with unusable legs.  He stays in the gutter because he can’t move quick enough to get out of the way of traffic.  Or the little kids on the side of the road who want the extra banana that Katy and I have.  We got 10 bananas for less than a dollar and the kids are so adorable walking around without shoes, oversized sweaters and that persistent snot that seems to be forever running out of little kid’s noses. How can we refuse?

It’s a different world over here.  A wonderful world.  But different.

Rice pudding and chapti. 

Now that's a nice photo.

DIY flagstick repair, complete with rusty old nail banged straight by a large rock. Do you like our new Om flag?  Om as in Om mani padme hum.

"I didn't have much else going on, so I figured I'd just prostrate all the way down the highway today."

Kids, child in purple, boy or girl?

Hopefully these prayers are praying for us.

Katy learns to count to five.

Can't be too careful, lot of bad drivers out there. Truck full of tomatoes goes through barricade, off bridge and to the river gorge below.  Tomatoes were still fresh.

Not quite the same as Dodge's Chicken in Arkansas, but I'm not picky about my orange-tinged fried foods.  They really should make "fried" its own food group.