THE TRIP TO THE HIMALAYAS
The taxi came to pick me up from the hostel at 6:20 in the morning. The bus was scheduled to leave at 7 am and I didn’t want any surprises. My backpack got nicely situated on the bus roof, and I took seat number five. The bus, of course, was still empty so I made myself comfortable on the hard seat and waited for the grand eight-hour ride to begin.
It wasn’t long before another passenger, who appeared Chinese, boarded the bus. He took the seat across from me, stared at me for a second, and exclaimed, “Oh, you must be a Bulgarian!” The first thought that crossed my mind was that I was dreaming. Sometimes my dreams are so vivid that I often get lost in them. There are always moments like this one, however, that seem extremely illogical and odd and make me realize it’s a dream and I wake up. The “dream”, however, wasn’t ending and the Chinese guy continued, “How was it in Bulgarian…, ah, yes – DOBRO UTRO, KAK SI?”
There was no chance a Chinese in Nepal could be speaking to me in Bulgarian, so I was more than convinced I was still dreaming. I started worrying I was going to miss the bus and I started looking for ways to wake myself up. I decided to ask how he knew I was Bulgarian, to which he responded that it was written on my face. I was puzzled and speechless, and my face was probably really pale, which made him admit the truth. He had visited Raj (the guy from Couchsurfing) the night before after I met with him, so Raj told him all about my endeavors. They even looked at my profile on the Couchsurfing site so it was easy for him to recognize me. We had a good laugh and then he went on to introduce himself.
His name was Wei and in the past 3 years, he hadn’t done anything but travel. Mostly hitchhiking, he had traveled to more than 46 countries, including Bulgaria. That was the reason he knew how to greet me in Bulgarian. He also shared that he remembered Bulgaria with an interesting experience. As he was trying to catch a ride on one of the roads in Bulgaria, a car pulled up next to him but from the opposite direction. The man in the car asked where Wei was going, after which the driver made a U-turn, told him to hop in the car and even though he was heading in the other direction, he took Wei to his destination. This Chinese man was full of stories, every next one more fascinating than the previous one so I started viewing him as a gift from Life, a living inspiration to learn from.
The bus filled up with passengers so our adventure began under the sounds of rhythmic Asian music. We were supposed to reach Jiri, sometime in the afternoon. That was the place where the roads ended and if one wanted to continue up the mountain they had to take the paths to base camp. For those who were lazier or in a hurry, there was another option, they could jump on a plane which took them to the world’s most dangerous airport – Lukla and they could begin their journey from there. But the fact that they started at over 3,000 meters elevation, robbed them of the chance to enjoy the beauty of the most picturesque and flourishing part of the route.
The bus driver was going above the speed limit for the terrain, which made him brake often so we could pass the vehicles from the oncoming traffic. There were times when the bus tires rolled on the edge of the cliff, but that definitely didn’t worry the man next to me, who had fallen asleep deeply, leaning on my shoulder. We made a few stops to rest, and every time I took the chance to check on my backpack, to make sure it hadn’t flown off the bus roof. To my surprise every time I was able to see it was still there.
We arrived in Jiri past 4 in the afternoon and Wei and I decided to stick together. We had two options before us – rent a room right away and start our hike in the morning or start the hike now and risk getting to the next village before dusk. It only took us a part of a second to choose the second option and with big smiles on our faces, we started walking. Carried away in our conversation we failed to take an important turn, but luckily a local man we met along the way told us that we were heading in the wrong direction. He also explained that this route would eventually take us to the one we were aiming for, but it was a long and tiring detour. We continued without giving it much thought.
The sunset and the darkness caught us right there in the middle of the forest. Wei said we had nothing to worry about and sooner or later we were going to see the light of a house shining in the darkness. I had a flashlight in my bag so I took it out and lit up our path in order not to break our legs on the rocky path. After about half an hour we saw some light to the right of us and headed in its direction. There were two or three houses with local inhabitants and Wei declared he was taking the wheel from now on and that all I had to do was simply trust him.
We approached the first house and my fellow traveler knocked on the door. A well-built, mid-age man opened the door and Wei began the conversation in English. Visibly his interlocutor wasn’t understanding so eventually, Wei showed him the sign with the fingers to the mouth and then the two palms together to the side of the head. Obviously, communication was precise so we got invited into the house. There was another man, about our age, in the house as well as two women. They greeted us and got busy preparing food. We couldn’t stop saying “Thank you” and “Denia vat”, which means thank you. Wei literally devoured the large bowl of Dal Bat (steamed rice and lentils or other pulses stew called dal). I assumed he hadn’t eaten in a while. After I finished my meal we lay on the bed that our hosts had kindly provided for us.
It was the last day of March, and it was really cold in the room, but that didn’t stop us from falling asleep immediately. I had an amazing day, starting with the bus ride early in the morning to this moment lying in the bed of local Nepalese people. All the signs were clear, my guide – Life had taken the wheel.