As the bird flies I am only 15 or 20km from India in the lowlands of Nepal in a quiet and leafy part of Sauraha, a three-street village that is next to the Chitwan National Park. It’s great to be out of Kathmandu, but its cosmopolitan food nature has followed me. Sauraha has maybe 10 restaurants that announce they “specialize” in Mexican food. How many restaurants in rural Mexico specialize in Nepalese food?
After 10 days in Nepal without a drop of rain, suddenly it storms for two days, the newspaper reports it is unseasonably cold, saying that winter has arrived early, and 3500 tourists are stranded in Lukla airport (the gateway to Mount Everest) desperate to get out like it is 1975 Saigon.
I don’t have it so bad. My only problem is that all of the elephants have been reserved and I can’t do a little safari in the national park tomorrow. I can’t complain.
Before the rains came I met a couple of European girls on a trail near the river. They had just seen a rhino and were going to go back and show me, but we had only taken a few steps when it was suddenly closer than before, rustling behind some thick grass, and we had to hightail it out of there. They weren’t as phased as I was; someone had told them that rhinos can only charge in one direction, so if you run around like Benny Hill you’d be OK.
I walked a good 3km towards the elephant breeding center, but didn’t want to miss feeding time so I hitchhiked the last bit and the first car that passed picked me up. Actually, the first car to pass was an ambulance, and I dumbly didn’t extend my thumb. Sure enough, the guy looked at me longingly as he passed, like he wished he had a reason to stop for me and I would have had my first hitchhiking ambulance ride. I’m so stupid sometimes.
On the way back, again the first car to approach picked me up, this time a bus full of Nepalese students, very excited to have me aboard, though most of the ride they tried to understand why I am not married.