The day we left Kathmandu was the big sacrificing day of Daishan. Goats were everywhere; on the roofs of buses, on walls, tied to trees, everywhere. People could not pass butchers for dozens of goats tied up waiting their fate. As our bus slowly crawled towards a junction we saw two goats tied to a railing beside a pool of blood and a frayed rope where presumably minutes earlier their friend had stood. Others were being led like a dog on a rope by their owners as the negotiated for the cheapest, 'kill (sacrifice) it, shave it and quarter it' package around. Often the goat in question standing, either unaware or trying to ignore the detached head staring back at it or the odd hoof here and there.
The traffic police struggled to keep traffic moving as there are no rules of the road here, except as we have become well used to, the biggest always wins. Today they were aided though by the somewhat unhelpful holy man who took it upon himself to try and give alternative directions to other traffic the police were failing to control. After a couple of hours though our bus had successfully got about 10 km out of town and the pandemonium started to settle.
We intended to break our journey at a small mountain village for a night called Bandipur. Bandipur has no traffic, no modern buildings, and owing to an oversight by the restaurant regarding Daishan, next to no food. So proceeded a day of easy walking to the top of the hill to enjoy the surrounding valleys, and generally settling down to the pace of the village. The gentle pace mercifully applied to the insect life too. There are giant spiders here which are like something out of a horror movie. They are not the fat hairy tarantula type, but the streamlined ones, with the long legs at the front and back and no hair. They were black and green and as big as a man's hand. Quite terrifying, as they hung in their webs from phone lines and tree branches. We never saw one move, but they looked fast. Our room was extremely basic, with a bed, a single sheet and a small table, but there was a tiny little wooden balcony behind a door which had a gob-smacking view over the whole area, trouble was, the balcony looked like it was just waiting for an excuse to collapse. I gave it one by jumping up and down on it repeatedly to test it, it seemed safe so I gave up and went back in doors.
To get to Bandipur, we jumped off our bus at a nearby town, got our bags thrown down from the roof of the bus and then caught a jeep up to the village at the top of the hill. The jeep was the same idea as the songthaews from S.E Asia - basically a pick up truck with two benches running down the sides of the back bit and a roof over the top. Normally you could fit maybe five people on each bench and sit a couple of children between the feet if you wanted a little bit of comfort while you travelled. Our car, counting the people on the benches, the people on those peoples' knees, on the bags in the middle, on the roof (using our bags for cushions), standing on the flap that closes to keep you in and sitting up front with the driver, crawled up the hill with 40 passengers on board.
After our stay we had a more pleasant journey back down the hill with only 6 or so of us in the car. We caught the next big bus going through town, then changed buses when it broke down and continued to Pokhara. We learned that today was the day that everyone travelled to stay with their families so we were very lucky that the bus was not any busier than usual, unlike the vehicles we saw arriving in town later in the day, presumably after everyone had come home from work. As such there was little excitement on our bus, except for the goat who enjoyed a rare trip indoors instead of on the roof. He is probably not around any more though to tell of his privilege.
The traffic police struggled to keep traffic moving as there are no rules of the road here, except as we have become well used to, the biggest always wins. Today they were aided though by the somewhat unhelpful holy man who took it upon himself to try and give alternative directions to other traffic the police were failing to control. After a couple of hours though our bus had successfully got about 10 km out of town and the pandemonium started to settle.
We intended to break our journey at a small mountain village for a night called Bandipur. Bandipur has no traffic, no modern buildings, and owing to an oversight by the restaurant regarding Daishan, next to no food. So proceeded a day of easy walking to the top of the hill to enjoy the surrounding valleys, and generally settling down to the pace of the village. The gentle pace mercifully applied to the insect life too. There are giant spiders here which are like something out of a horror movie. They are not the fat hairy tarantula type, but the streamlined ones, with the long legs at the front and back and no hair. They were black and green and as big as a man's hand. Quite terrifying, as they hung in their webs from phone lines and tree branches. We never saw one move, but they looked fast. Our room was extremely basic, with a bed, a single sheet and a small table, but there was a tiny little wooden balcony behind a door which had a gob-smacking view over the whole area, trouble was, the balcony looked like it was just waiting for an excuse to collapse. I gave it one by jumping up and down on it repeatedly to test it, it seemed safe so I gave up and went back in doors.
To get to Bandipur, we jumped off our bus at a nearby town, got our bags thrown down from the roof of the bus and then caught a jeep up to the village at the top of the hill. The jeep was the same idea as the songthaews from S.E Asia - basically a pick up truck with two benches running down the sides of the back bit and a roof over the top. Normally you could fit maybe five people on each bench and sit a couple of children between the feet if you wanted a little bit of comfort while you travelled. Our car, counting the people on the benches, the people on those peoples' knees, on the bags in the middle, on the roof (using our bags for cushions), standing on the flap that closes to keep you in and sitting up front with the driver, crawled up the hill with 40 passengers on board.
After our stay we had a more pleasant journey back down the hill with only 6 or so of us in the car. We caught the next big bus going through town, then changed buses when it broke down and continued to Pokhara. We learned that today was the day that everyone travelled to stay with their families so we were very lucky that the bus was not any busier than usual, unlike the vehicles we saw arriving in town later in the day, presumably after everyone had come home from work. As such there was little excitement on our bus, except for the goat who enjoyed a rare trip indoors instead of on the roof. He is probably not around any more though to tell of his privilege.
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