Rajkumar asked me what I was doing for the remaining days of my time in Nepal and I said I may go on a “Workaway” farm for a few days. He suggested Kriti and I could visit her parents as they live very traditionally. They live further east in the hills than our trek had taken us.
So we set off by crowded bus to Banepa (where we lunched on our trek). This time I was sat on the gear box next to the driver. We had a long wait in Banepa, the bus would not leave for an hour (which ended up as two), so we left our stuff on the bus, (which is not something I would have done on my own) and went to get a bit of shopping, gifts for Kriti’s parent. We bought dried fruit, walnuts, the smallest smoothest coconuts I have ever seen, and a number of other dried goods. I paid for these because although gift giving is not really a thing in traditional places, I felt it was necessary.
The next bus was extremely dirty, even by Nepali standards, the seats were dusty and there was dust on the floor. The bus was also very full and getting fuller all the time but, mostly with sacks of rice which filled up the aisle. Kriti’s bag was also on the floor and fair game as a step or a seat, and as the journey went in it got dirtier and dirtier, just as well it was wipeable. All the time very cheerful Nepali music is blaring out. We wound around ever increasing bends going up steeper and steeper. Then after a short stop in a small town we went off road and onto a track that I think only a jeep should attempt.
We this was a whole different level of jolting, jostling and hair raising moments especially when a bus is coming the other way on a single track, with a sheer drop on one side. The drivers are bloody amazing, although they terrify me when they are using their phones or chatting to customers while we are lurching toward a hairpin bend. The conductor also helps in these situations with a sort of whistling code for reversing or wheel positions. The conductors are also very laissez-faire with their own safety, hanging out the door, or holding the open door which is secured by a piece of iron that could jump out of position at any moment!
Anyway I soon found out why the bus was so filthy. The bus churned up the dust that was puffing in cloud’s in through the gaps in the doors and windows (nothing is sealed), the interior was just misty with it. I’m glad I had my mask although I doubt it did much.
Through all this were amazing views up to Kot Timal, 1628 metres above sea level and Kriti’s childhood home.
We arrived in the mid afternoon and wandered down a track to her parents house. A very traditional two story building with outbuildings and a newish tin shed next to it, quake proof to sleep in.
Meeting Kriti’s parents was a humbling experience. Her mum Chini a year younger than me and her Father Padam in his seventies, were welcoming in a reserved but not shy fashion. Kriti looked rather out of place in her modern coat (now very dirty from the bus). It was five months since she had seen her mother.
Inside an uneven packed earth floor, swept clean and a rush mat to sit on, (clearly I looked uncomfortable as I cannot sit cross legged for long so they bought me a chair). There were also little wooded blocks that also acted as seats or tables. There was not much else in the room, a fire with an earth hob and chimney, a cupboard and a chicken coop, by the door. The most modern things were a couple of gas rings to cook on and one electric light. The ceiling was black with years of smoke.
Normally shoes would be taken off at the door but because the chickens came in at night, shoes came off halfway along the room where the kitchen begins I suppose.
Kriti showed me the farm, goats, chickens, and a buffalo with a calf, most of these were tethered. They were healthy looking compared to some we had seen trekking. The fields were planted with spinach (different to ours), onions, mustard and potatoes. The gaps were filled with sugar cane, taro root (which needs a whole year), coriander, and nettles. They can get three crops a year out of each field. They also had a small man made reservoir of water for the crops. Drinking water was collected from three supply taps further along the road. I’m so pleased with my Grayl filter cup. I alarmed Kriti when I dipped it into a water butt. The water was clear, smelled sweet so I filtered it. After that Kriti was drinking my filtered water too.
After Kriti started a fire, Chini cooked us dhal bhat, with goat meat on the fire, it was mesmerising to watch, this very practical woman in her home cooking on the floor. Occasionally she would leap up bare foot and chase a goat or chicken out of the room.
Kriti was looking more and more at home too, she explained she and her three brothers had grown up here, a far cry from her modern lifestyle now. Kritis father joined us for dinner and we all warmed our feet by the fire (I had my socks on). We ate some of the dried fruit and nuts, then Chini went to share some of it with her neighbours. When she came back Chini kept asking me if I had eaten enough, in the end I said as best I could that if I ate any more I would go bang! She understood and it sent her into peals of laughter.
I think everyone thinks I’m too thin for a woman, over the next few days I was mistaken for a man several times, my shape and my clothes adding to the confusion. Kriti was even asked if I was her husband and that made her giggle.
Once the animals were put away, the goats in the room under the corrugated metal bedroom, we all went to bed. It was about 8pm. Kriti shared with her mother, I had a very hard bed next to them that was small even for me (Clare’s legs would have been dangling off the end I think). Kritis father had a couple of mattresses on the floor.
I was about to find out if my sleeping bag was as good as it purports to be as there was no insulation at all in the hut. We all went to bed fully clothed, with hats on and in my case hood up! Night Night!
The Travelling Bee 