So today was an awesomely fun time spent on the river . I arranged to go rafting today and as I was alone I was added to a previously organised group. I was the odd one out today as my companions were 7 Chinese tourists of varying shapes and sizes and genders.

Now I may have expressed my concerns about Chinese tourists in a previous post, but just in case I haven’t! I hate them! Loud obnoxious groups of kids and adults pushing around while snorting and screaming at each other. They are painful!

That being said I wasn’t ecstatic as we left Kathmandu on the bus at 7:00am. I was even less ecstatic as we nearly missed the bus waiting for the group to show up and then the guide literally had to continue to play sheep dog with them to keep them walking forward, I was concerned to say the least.

I slept most of the way and as I found on the way back missed some pretty spectacular scenery. Strikingly similar to Northern Vietnam but on a much grander scale.

We finally arrived at the rafting place about 4 hours later. We all hoped out and were introduced to our raft captain Kumar. Without a safety demonstration we were casting off. Kumar selected myself and another chatty Asian chap to head the boat at the front (where all the real work is done). I strapped on my new sunglasses (awesome by the way!) and the gopro and we were off!!

We started by easing into the river with a massive rapid that nearly through us all in. The savagery of the river placated a little after our quick rough introduction and we simply paddled and enjoyed our rafting through vast canyons with towering mountains and country either side of us.

I started getting chatty and mischievous with the Chinese before long we were happily splashing opposing river craft as they neared and cheering obscenities.

A rapid some time later threw me across the boat into my poor counterpart and we lost a good man over board, but all was righted and we continued.

We made a break about halfway and the shannanigans began the Asian ladies who were dressed as if they were trying to stay dry in a deluge started photographing the lads as I photo bombed each by crash tackling and dragging the poor lads deep into the river. After that they weren’t so bad and we messed about. I hoped out and had a lay down in the sun on the side of the raft and before I knew it the had all snuck up and grabbed me lifted me carried me out and tossed me down into the river.

We set out again and managed to convince Kumar to let us swim beside the boat. No sooner had he agreed then I had backslid off and out. His one instruction: stay close to the boat. It proved impossible. As soon as I jumped the lads followed and we were all swept straight downriver away from the boat at tremendous speed. The emergency kayaks that followed us went nuts trying to scramble and catch us and stop us from crashing or drowning. We didn’t pay them much heed as we tossed and turned down the river in spectacular style past the other boats and were eventually rounded up by other boats and eventually reunited with a slightly annoyed and concerned Kumar. But we’d had a ball!!

Once we were all reunited by various means in the boat it was smooth sailing to the finish where we had some lunch and then took a local bus back to Kathmandu. The Asian crew all headed off to pokhara via another bus.

A very enjoyable day!! All on gopro and all unable to be uploaded to this blog!

After spending a couple of days inside recovering from the hellish train ride from hell I was ready to move on. I arranged a bus to take me to and from here another bus would take me to Raxual and the border. Upon realising that the buses were crammed and reluctant to stop I chartered my own private jeep, which I believed would be awesome! It was not! It had to be push started. The driver was an utter wanker. It had no steering and I quite clearly remember when we crashed off the road due to the driver incompetence, somehow into the ditch on our side managed to right the jeep before it lurched over completely and keep going back up onto the road. We fell onto my side and had the jeep not righted itself I would have been invariably crushed. It was the closest I’d come to certain death and I’m writing this now days later and I have not thought about it once since it happened.

We continued our slow trip, never going over 25ks all the while my useless driver was all over the road. I wanted to hit him and throw him out. He pulled into a petrol station where he and the attendants tried to extort money out of me to no avail.

We finally made it to Raxual and he was paid, asked for more and I swore savagely at him and took off.

Raxual was simply a mud shithole. The main road was a single line of trucks maybe two hundred trucks long. Waiting to cross the border. The road and I say road liberally (it was simply a track that looked like it had been carpet bombed and was lined either side in thick wet mud and puddles everywhere) went forever. I grabbed a push tuk (a push bike tuk tuk – the most useless and painful contractions ever conceived) and set off for a bank. I needed a bank as I had found out that in India money exchanges will not issue US dollars, they are simply not allowed by the Indian government. You have to go to a bank, and as I found out a bank won’t either. Yes, fuck you too India!

The USD were needed as the Nepalese visa can only be purchased using USD. It was on this hunt for USD that a helpful local lead me to the banks and it was here that India really gave me the shits!

We were negotiating the mud walking and puddles and I simply walked the wrong way thinking what I was looking at was dry mud, instead I plunged down to my hips into an open sewer of warm thick viscous mud. I froze and then stormed out the other side, my aid looked at me horrified and lead me straight to a water pump where we washed down my jeans and shoes and socks. I stripped and changed clothes soaked my legs in iodine and just shook my head.

My aid stayed with me and managed to help me get through to the Nepalese visa station where I was able to pay using Indian rupees however at an extortionate exchange rate. A visa costs USD 99, I paid about USD 170. But it was successful and i entered Nepal!

I feel delirious, out of my mind. It is by far and away the hardest physical and mental battle I’ve ever fought. Non A/C sleeper or steerage class on an 18 hour train across India. If I ever see my ticket seller again I will give him such a thrashing, the bastard. Yet again buying a ticket in this place is impossible and the man managed to fuck me around and instead of helping me just fucked me over.

I’m 12 hours into this terrible terrible mistake. It’s the heat. It bends everything. I’ve been slow cooking for 12 hours constant sweat dripping off my forehead stinging my eyes and skin. I drink as much water as possible but im full of holes and it simply runs out of me.

The carriage is full, bodies lie everywhere in the dark the only light reluctantly seeps through the windows, even it doesn’t want to come in here. I can’t smell anything anymore, but the air is heavy and thick, musty.

I’m finally laying down on a pleather bed, no cover. my throat is sore and parched from the fumes and crap that wafts through the window when were moving. That’s the other battle, why the fuck won’t the train just go! Why must we stop for endless amounts of time. When the train stops the heat increases and the hot box begins. Yours sit and sweat whilst screaming in your mind for the train to just go! Every time we stop anywhere between 2-5 other trains full of people go screaming past at phenomenal speeds. Yet we wait. And we wait in these little stations in the middle of but fuck nowhere.

It’s fucking midnight and the heat, the heat is just relentless.

I am of course wearing pants as I have to stay covered to avoid the Mosquitos. Packed in with so many other poor souls it’s heaven for disease and mosquitoes are the harbingers of death.

I feel disgusting, a dirtiness I couldn’t obtain any other way.

My mind bends as the lack of sleep and heat and frustration at the lack of movement (just fucking go already) drags on. Honestly I should have bailed when I realised the mistake but I thought to myself come on you can do it what an adventure. Argh, never again. If you ever come to India never ever ever move below AC2 sleeper class, I promise you that it is an absolute Paradise compared to this.

Even Pigly is lying here sweating in misery and he is a stuffed doll! He looks back at me in resentment, as if saying “you bastard”!

Upon reflection:

I knew I was in trouble when I stepped into the carriage. Three tier bunks and people everywhere squashed in looking at me in wonderment, it became glaringly obvious I shouldn’t be here. I stored my things on my berth, a top bunk, an officer of the Indian army kicked a guy aside to make a seat for me and started talking to me in Indian, I spoke to him through a businessman sitting with us who told me I shouldn’t be here thus confirming my fears. He claimed that I wouldn’t survive the ride like an Indian could. I liked the challenge plus I had nowhere else I could go.

Soon another Indian with a berth against the windows invited me over to sit where I would get wind. He was a loverly chap who couldn’t be more helpful despite me hardly understanding anything he was trying to say. The businessman had gone and opposite us were 5 women a family in colourful saris travelling to Calcutta and no English there either, just a lot of hand miming. They took the maternal role over me quite quickly and I was somewhat glad as they helped me secure the berth rather than my intended Which resolved a lot of my concerns as it was a bottom bunk which gave me somewhere to safely store my things where I could keep an eye on them and access to windows which when the train was moving proved to be the only cooling effect available.

A quick interlude as officers with assault rifles walk through the carriage checking everyone.

I later shared my berth with another Indian soldier who was kind enough to offer me to join him in eating his meagre morsels. It was a small tin of spiced chickpeas, and the moment he offered I knew I was doomed. I fished out my parcel of roti (have taken to making sure I travel with a tin foil wrap of roti bread as a food backup) and we shared our food together. He was a loverly chap and kept demanding that I continue to share his chickpeas. We were eating with our hands straight out of his tin. I had of course bought some hand wash but managed to leave it behind in the hotel to my utter dismay. It was probably about the 6 hour mark of the trip that this was taking place by the way. So by the next morning my stomach could hold on no longer and I had to brave the toilet.

I could smell it before I’d even left my berth, I walked down the packed isle of people glaring at me as I passed, I believed I’d managed to convince the five women sharing the berths across from mine to stand vigilant over my possessions and the fear of theft hurried me onwards. I had to wait of course, as the moment I chose coincided with the great train rush for the bathroom. Finally taking a deep deep breath I entered. I locked the door behind me, and eyed my new hell like a battlefield commander decided how best to storm his objective. It was bleak. I have used 3rd world train toilets before (once – Thailand two years ago) so I had a basic plan, however, this is India and I was still struggling to find a way to bring myself to touch things, a little obsessive I’ll admit but not to the extremes of George Constanza. I took off my shorts, it was a sure bet that they’d be covered if I didn’t, rolled the up and placed them on what I deemed to be the safest place, and stepped up to the plate, literally. The toilet was a recessed bowl angled towards a gaping hole, in this bowl were two foot sized plinths with grip. A hose in front of this bowl dribbled water and the everything was moist…

I took my position on the plate, lined myself up as best I could, thankful that we were at a station and hence immobile.

I walked back to my berth, glad t find my belongings still intact. the train started rolling off the platform, and my stomach cramped tightly again the countdown began again, could I hold out for the last four hours before having to return…

Total trip time 25 hours, by the end I was soaked utterly soaked, tiered, dehydrated, suffering heat stroke and dysentery had set in. I was in bed for two days after.

Don’t take anything less than AC2!