Chitwan to Pokhara

Chitwan to Pokhara 

The ride in a smaller Tourist bus started with the usual scramble for seats, followed by a lengthy discussion between one young Chinese woman and the bus boy. He was calm and eventually got her to move from the coveted front seat to the allocated seat further back.  This was probably a 20 seater, with a cushioned row behind they driver.  We left on time, again, then cruised around the main street area of Chitwan collecting a few locals to squish onto the cushioned seat area.  Now, in comparison with the bigger colourful busses that squash 3 to a double seat, with up to 12 I the front section and others standing, our tiny bus was a luxury.  

Just out of town, as we beetled along at at least 45 kph, we passed a lorry type truck that had driven too close the the inner edge of the road. There's a gap along the inner shoulder that sometimes is reinforced by stone walls, but really is an water channel.  This lorry had its right wheels on the road, but the left side was in the gutter.  The drop on the other side might have been 40m, without any safety rail or fence.  So I guess running into the gutter is better than sending someone over the side.

Driving along a basically single carriage road, with busses, motor bikes and trucks in both directions is a dance where big gives way to small.  Passing means juggling the spaces between vehicles. There were not many cars, and I despair the time when the 4WD I have seen in other countries come along.   Drivers of those vehicles often appear privileged, taking a dominant stance. A bit judgemental, but I am basing that on experiences on roads in Vietnam, Loas and Cambodia.

I hope I can find some pictures of the valleys along this route. Brightly coloured 2 and 3 storeyed houses dot the hillside. I mean bright pink, purple and yellow. The ads on walls are predominantly for cement companies and paint. Along with local Scotch and sometimes cigarettes. Sheer terraced edges with rice paddies. Occasional corn fields. But the road really is a series of hairpin turns. I thought the road between Maymio and Yangon was windy. This is bend, after bend, after twisting bend. For three solid hours. Then we stopped at