Posts Tagged ‘hetauda’

Posted on July 27, 2009

Firsts in Hetauda

From July 19th – 27th…

Monsoon Beer – First night in Hetauda @ Bastipur Training Centre, I hung outside in the middle of a field with the big boss during a freakish monsoon rainstorm while drinking beer. It was an awesome, invigorating, yet slightly intoxicating, “natural shower” as my boss said. Monsoon Beer would be a great name for a nice light lager.

My umbrella saved my life – On my second day we visited the field offices in Parsa, Bara, Sarlahi, and Rautahat districts. On the way to the Rautahat office, we encountered a bandh road block where we inevitably had to abandon our vehicle and walk the rest of the way. We were only about a half-hour walk away but at 9:30, it was already a 37 degrees-blazing-hot-muggy weather and they only thing between us and certain delusional cries to our mothers was my emasculating umbrella (i love my umbrella).

That fresh feeling at work - offline.

Birganj jaane? – After only waiting for a mere 5 minutes, my Nepali colleague asked me if I wanted to take a truck to the infamous industrial lands of Birganj. Reluctantly, I said yes but after figuring it that it would cut the journey in half and it would be much more comfortable and enjoyable to ride a monster vehicle through the valley, we quickly hitch hiked with the first truck we saw. Apparently, people do it all the time.

Mad cow(s) – nope, not the disease but literally on our way to Birganj we encountered another road block where to bulls were jousting with each other. Just another typical commuting day in Nepal.

Ra RA, malaai Tamang ho!!!! – infiltrated my first Tamsaling bandh rally march with my fellow Tamang people. My first social rights rally ended prematurely when my colleagues burst out of the office gates to pull me out of the crowd (hey Rahkes! Ke garne?!?!?).

It’s the cookies! – Had dinner with my Kenyan and Ugandan colleagues one night and then enjoyed an evening television episode of Untold Stories in the ER. There was one story where a man accompanied by his wife was taken into the ER and was suffering from something that made him delusional and his body was slowly deteriorating. Marveled by American reality television, I noticed that the director of the story unsubtly kept showing us that his wife kept feeding him her “special” homemade cookies (duh?!?). Suffice to say in the end, we discovered that the wife was poisoning her husband with arsenic cookies.

H2O – drinking at least 3-4 litres of water per day and haven’t had the need to do number 1. The water is constantly evaporating from my skin turning it into rubber.

Motorcycle Diaries – Riding in the back of a motorbike to and from Birgunj and Chandranighapur, witnessing a horrific wipe out, getting hit in the face by giant yellow butterflies, getting rained on, battling gusts of wind, letting my mind wonder while taking in the landscape (and quickly coming to when I notice I am about to fall off the bike). I totally understand the allure of riding a motorbike.

Good (hot) times.

Posted on May 2, 2009

Commuting to work and the drivers

Commuting to work is an always “exciting” experience. Paraphrasing the great Forest Gump, it is exciting because you “never know what you are going to get.”

Every morning like in most cities, I suit up with my cycling gear – helmet, sunglasses, backpack, and for the first time a breathing mask or cowboy-style bandanna. As soon as I leave the compounds and chat with poppy, the adventure begins.

My bicycle bell rings non-stop, I’m constantly looking out for new potholes, wandering lethargic street dogs (and street cows), holding my breath when crossing our polluted river, dodging the morning traffic of bustling Nepalese merchants – my senses are already heightened and I am only still in  my neighbourhood. When I finally hit the main roads to work, I seamlessly blend in with the morning choas.

Survival of the fittest – or the insane

At first, I was scared out of my mind to cycle to work – most of my Nepali colleagues would agree. However, after a few commutes of riding on the left side and a couple of near-death experiences later, I finally began to understand the unique ecosystem of the Nepali roads and thus evolved/adapted in order to survive.

It’s not that bad once you get used to things – the pollution and the constant honking is the worst part. One thing I must say is that the drivers of Nepal (bus drivers, taxi drivers, motorcyclists, etc.) are the best drivers I have ever seen. They have lightning-fast reflexes, keen perception and awareness, and the utmost patience (all zen and no road-rage). As well, being a fairly tall foreigner wearing a loud fake cycling helmet from China on a bike definitely does not go un-noticed on the roads.

Tip: if you look like (or fake the part) of a foreigner who is not biking well such as wobbling around and thrashing your front wheel left and right, drivers will definitely stay clear of you and give you more room on the road. 
 

The Drivers

I often think that drivers here even have their own unwritten road rules and special language using their horns and turn-signals.  Turn-signals especially because when in use they either mean the typical “oh, I am turning my vehicle in this direction now” or better yet, “you can overtake me on this side of the vehicle” or “oh hey you behind me, check out what is coming up on my left side”, or “I’m having a bad day, don’t even try to overtake me”.

Finally, I think the best drivers in the world are the 4×4 Tata drivers who do the trek everyday from the chaotic streets of Kathmandu to industrial Hetauda and back via the Tribhuvan Rajpath road. This road is probably Nepal’s most exciting–indeed, hair-raising–of the country’s mountain roads. These drivers have to be sharp and leave very little room for error as they, along with their sardine-packed passengers, endure very narrow, mountain-side-cliff dirt roads (usually made for one vehicle), and near head-on collisions on a daily basis. 

 

 

 

…always an adventure.

Posted on March 31, 2009

A Canadian Icon in Nepal

Prabin, my little studious 13-year old sidekick, the son of Saran who drives me to and from the office, was initially quite shy when I first met him back in February. As I got to know him more, I found that his English is remarkably good and he is very intellectual for his age.

One morning while I was eating breakfast (dal bhaat), Prabin, with his English-Nepali accent, asked me an astonishing question that I would never have expected to hear in rural Hetauda…

“Rex, do you know the famous Canadian “Terry Fox”?

“Um, yeah?!?”, I said looking at him with amazement. Prabin’s follow-up response almost made me spit out my food.

“Did you know Terry Fox was born in Winnipeg, Manitoba in 1958 and went to school at Seemon Praser Univerbersity (Simon Fraser University)? He originally wanted to join the basketball team but his coach said he would be better to join the wrestling team. Terry ignored his coach and joined the basketball team anyways. He then got cancer in his right leg and then decided to run for cancer across Canada. He started in Newfoundland and stopped in Ontario.”

With my mouth agape I quizzically asked him how he came to know about one of Canada’s pioneer crusaders against cancer.

He said he learned it in school and then showed me his textbook.

Very cool!

Posted on March 21, 2009

Where everybody (or someone) knows your name

I was walking around Hetauda one day, minding own business and trying to blend in with the locals when all of a sudden, someone called out my name. I looked around but I couldn’t find where the voice was coming from. I was trying to figure out who could it be? My co-workers are all working, Tlell is in Kathmandu, and the person sounds like one of my aunts or relatives from back home. I then looked “down” and found the culprit…

Needless to say, the locals thought I was crazy when I started talking to it, but they all laughed after I explained what was driving me nuts.

Posted on February 19, 2009

The Drive to (and from) Hetauda

Almost 6 and half hours later, in a crammed 4×4 toyota, a foreign metal object poking at my back while by butt froze numb, we finally made it to our meeting place Bastipur, in Hetauda. 200 km journeys in Nepal normally take this long.

Although our journey with my counter-part started really late in the afternoon (around 3pm and right at the cusp of rush hour traffic) the inevitable evening arrival surprisingly ended nicely for me. I was welcomed with a familiar group camp style atmosphere in the middle of the country (so calm, peaceful, and quite), a comfy Nepali style bed (rock hard mattress), a warm familiar meal (dal bhatt and takaari again!!!), and ironically, a really enjoyable car ride that I reflected upon(seriously). Here is why…

As we headed south-west away from the city outskirts, I subconsciously decided to stick my head out the car window – like a happy dog, enjoying the sights (but not the smells) of everything that was not Kathmandu. Yes, a change of scenery was needed but this change was quite welcoming as it reminded me….of home.

The winding roads through the mountain valleys, the raging rivers, accompanying look out points overlooking the vast river, people camping on the rocky shores of the river banks, trees covering every mountain side and with a stellar vista to match as we reached the top of a hill. Ahhh yes, this drive reminded me of my drives through the Okanagan, to and from Whistler, and my escape to the island and onward to Tofino.

Instead of the Fraser River, it was the Rapti river. Instead of Hell’s Gate, it was the Mankawar cable cars. There were many suspension bridges (and single cage pull bridges) that crosses the river that would make Capilano’s suspension bridge look miniature. Instead of stopping at Port Alberni, Merrit, or Squamish we stopped at Mugling to stretch our legs. Many small communities dotted the landscape.

For many brief moments, it was almost like being home.

The drive home was much better (and much more adventurous). It was a much shorter drive than the way to Hetauda and WOW, there were many times where I thought we would LITERALLY fall off the side of the cliff. The road we took home was even considered the “new” highway. Rougher one-lane roads, dirt paths, extreme cabin temperatures (since we couldn’t open the windows because of the dust), intimate drive through small towns (you can even see the inside of people’s homes we were so close) and mountain side paths.

I’ll try to get a google map of this soon.

That was fun.