barf bus.

Traveling throughout Nepal and India always proves to be quite the amusing situation and never fails to bring about endless entertainment. I was reminded of this loud and clear, when Forest and I left from Pokhara to venture cross country back to Kathmandu; looking to save a few rupees and hours, we opted to take the city bus.
While the buses are essentially just crappy version of coaches in the states, they have a flavor all of their own, decorated as gaudy as possible. Pulling into the bus stand is like pulling into a town carnival, gargantuan beasts of vehicles full of bright colors, weird, unfathomable paintings on the exterior, and enough ornamentation to cover three large Christmas trees.

Arriving at a bus stand, which is never an actually stand, just a busy street that buses stop on, It is always the same routine: find as many people to ask for help as possible, and take a poll, going to the bus that the most point you towards. Before we even began to ask about the Kathmandu bus, a short, tiny Nepali man had snatched our packs from us and threw them on top of a bus, taking no safety precautions (such as strapping them down) at all, and motioning for us to get on board. After ensuring that this was in fact the bus for Kathmandu, we settled into our abode for the next seven hours.

those are our bag

First of all, Nepali people are much, much smaller than the average American or European, and rightfully so, they make their bus seats accordingly. We quickly discovered that the only way we could comfortably fit in the confining space was to put our knees up and rolling into the smallest ball possible. This was fine for oh, the first 20 minutes, and then the cramps and muscle spasms began to hit. We also, upon leaving Pokhara, were not on the best of roads, and attempting to keep your legs stable, while being thrown around in bump after bump is not the easiest thing to do.

It doesn't take much to figure out that there is an unspoken competeition here to see who can have the most 'decked out' bus. Not decked out in the bling bling, American sense of the word that would involve rims, spinners, and killer music systems, decked out in the most garish, tacky, and tasteless sense of the phrase.
This bus came pretty close to being in the top ten. not only was it painted inside, it also had a conspicuously large and well functioning music set up, with speakers throughout and including a supreme bass. At first, I was quite keen to this, it was nice to actually have uniformed music throughout a space, rather than a series of cell phones playing mp3s without headphones. And to indulge in the traditional Nepali music was perfectly fitting for our journey.
for the first few hours.

We stopped 2 hours in for a stretch break along the highway, and there just so happened to be a place to grab a good thali for lunch. We joined the large line of people waiting for food, and noticed too late that the plate we were being served on was wet. Ever since my seemingly neverending bouts with giardia these past 2 years, I have been fairly meticulous about sanitation when it comes to food. But there were at least 26 people in line behind us, and our food was already on the plate so I decided to not make a fuss about it. This later proved to be a big mistake;  seeing the ketchup in old beer bottles should have given me a bit of heads up, but I delved in anyway, eating one of the best meals of the trip.

After Forest climbed on top of the bus to ensure our bags were secure, we nestled back into the too small for comfort seats; forcing our muscles into submission yet again.
It was about this time I was ready for a nap, but the bus driver thought it would be a good idea to blast Nepali rap, making it impossible to sleep considering  my eardrums were ringing and I couldn't feel more than half of my body. Accepting that I was going to have to be a bit uncomfortable for the remainder of the journey, I attempted to read, only making me carsick and frustrated.

By this time, the people and items thrown into the aisle had reached its maximum capacity, and I no longer could stretch my legs out on account of a massive bag of rice, had to awkwardly hold onto the end of someone's basket to keep it from breaking, and had to deal with the ticket collector coming by every 10 minutes and sitting on my chair/lap. 

And then it hit us, the distinct stink that can only come from a baby's soiled diaper. Not daring to turn my head fully, I watched out of my peripheral as the family across from us changed their child's poopy diaper....and then they didn't plastic bag it.

It was quite the moral dilemma- did I want them to throw it out the window, omitting even more toxins into the already heavily polluted air, or did I want to have to continue getting whiffs of the rancid smell? The dad held onto the diaper for 20 minutes or so, clearly split as to what to do as well. He finally made up his mind and stashed it in the upper luggage storage rack when he thought no one was looking.
This just so happened to be the luggage storage rack directly above us. So now, I didn't just have to keep from gagging every time I got another whiff, I also had to fret about the diaper falling onto my head. Due to the awkwardly small space allotted by our impossibly small seats, I could barely get my head to the window to get any fresh air (Forest's head was hanging out of the window by this point) and we were sure that it couldn't get any worse than too loud for comfort Nepali music and a dirty diaper above our heads.... and that is when the roads started to get windy...Very windy.

The first puker was a lady sitting in the aisle who spewed absolutely everywhere, including all over the bags of rice, which royally pissed off the man in front of us, who was beyond worried about the welfare of his rice.

In the movie The Goonies, there is a scene in which Chunk is being interrogated by the Fratellis (who are threatening to blend his hand off) and says the worst thing he has ever done is mixing up fake vomit and then pretending to puke over the railing of a movie theater and that then everyone started to get sick and throw up all over each other.

This is how the remainder of the bus ride was. Person after person puking, almost as if they were playing tag. We were sitting in the very back of the bus and had prime seats in the attraction, almost resorting to the point of placing bets as to who would be the next one to let loose. Atrocious does not even begin to describe what the bus smelled like. And keep in mind, I still had a festering dirty diaper above my head, which was beginning to let off more stench with each passing minute. 

aftermath

There were numerous times in that final hour and a half in which I had to mentally escape to a happy place, just to forget what was happening. And then the hilarity of it all struck me. How many people back home can say they went through such an experience, while in Nepal, and that it didn't even seem that abnormal; added proof that life in India is destined to be anything but normal.

...and that is the story of how, after 7 long and atrocious hours, we made it back to Kathmandu.