Magic Bus

Magic bus-

The ongoing desire for authentic experiences inspired the decision of taking a micro bus to the Annapurna trail head. Micro bus is the name they give to those big white, 15 seater, road trip passenger vans. The other, less authentic (more comfortable), options are flying or taking the “tourist” bus. With my bag tied to roof, I take my position on what initially appears to be a nice roomy seat. My seat soon revealed itself to be meant for TWO people. We sat four across each row and boom, just like that this is a TWENTY passenger carriage. Thigh-to-thigh, torso-to-torso we rode. 45 minutes into it the guy next to me nodding off, tries resting his head on my shoulder a few times. I exaggerate the jar of a couple road bumps and shake my way free. This is a 6-7 hour trip. It’s a locals bus. I’m the only westerner. In the beginning I get a few strange looks, but familiarity eventually prevails and by the end of the trip I am receiving warm smilies all around.

There’s no expressway, no toll bridges. Loosely paved is best case scenario. The road is usually just eroded mounds of dirt and rain water depressions. It seamlessly morphs between a 3 lane, 2 lane and one way street depending on who’s in a hurry vs who’s coming the other direction.
We made a lunch shop and on the menu: dal bhat. Of course dal bhat. It’s always dal bhat. Breakfast, lunch and dinner that’s all these people eat. Dal bhat!! This is the first time I see everyone eating with their hands. Just goin’ to town- Sopping up the lentil soup (dal) with rice (bhat) and noisily licking their fingers clean. I use a spoon. The metal against the plastic plate sounds amplified and makes me feel awkward using it.

As we continue along one of the micro bus crew members keeps sliding back the door and yelling at people in the streets. Every once in a while we stop and he opens up the back hatch to show someone the 9 inches between the door the last row of seats (where I am). He’s not really trying to fit people back there is he?!? About 4 hours in we stop again. This time 2 people climb in and finagle seats where none existed. Another hour later 2 more people. Then, yep, 2 more. For the last 2 hours of the ride we had 26 (TWENTY SIX) people in one of those damn vans! At that point, “guess you got that authentic experience you were after” had run threw my head several times.

The engine stalls. A grin creeps across my face. It’s hot, there is loud Nepali chant playing with 100% treble directly in my ear. Thankfully we are on a rare level surface. Like Karake Kid’s mom heading for Golf-N-Stuff they need to push. 4 or 5 people get out to help. With the vans momentum the engine fires and everyone scrambles back inside before we drive away. Cruising along, 26 strong (again we’re in a 15 passenger van), we need to make an abrupt stop to avoid hitting a heard of goats in the middle of the road. We stall again. This time not so lucky. We are parked on an incline. The driver quickly throws it neutral and tries the ignition. It’s not turning over. We are picking up speed in reverse down the steep mountain road. The crewman opens the sliding van door and starts sprinting down the hill. This gets everyone’s attention. We come to a skid stop and the crewman frantically scrambles to find boulders he can wedge under the back wheels. All 26 of us vacate the van in record time like clowns from a clown car.

The driver, using a tire iron, bangs around in the mid engine motor and 45 minutes later we are back on the road. The last half hour goes by relatively painlessly. It was a memorable and “authentic” journey. All the way along I’m thinking how glad I was to have used Dial, and I wish everyone did.

Bob