Across Nepal via bus: when 200 miles takes 1O hours

Saturday, October 9th
Where did the mountains go? It's suddenly flat here in the Terai—Nepal's skinny southern strip of lowlands. Their dark outlines don't even shadow the horizon anymore. For once, the only roads don't wind narrowly through the hills, dropping off completely where elsewhere there might be a shoulder, or a guard rail at least. Now we drive on relatively straight stretches. But here, even the smoothest roads are bumpy as hell.
We drive past more animals than people: Dozens of water buffalo chillin' in a river, goats everywhere. And a flock of beautiful cranes take off at once. The houses are so cool. Most of them are adobe-like with sweet, rounded edges and thatched rooves. Instead of hewn lumber for support, they're built with straight-up branches. I wonder how they fare in storms.
Well, as usual, I missed the transition and here we are back in the mountains, back to the real meaning of bumpy. I don't know how that happened so fast. One minute it's flat, as far as the eye can see, and the next minute I look out on a canyon hundreds of feet below, and sheer slopes rising high on every side, carved by countless landslides, half forest, half rock. The houses are much fewer and farther between, but every once in a while we pass a cluster of them, all with thatched rooves and log walls, or no walls at all. As we come down onto flatter ground, most of the thatched rooves cover walls of beautiful orange-red or golden clay instead, and some houses are made of brick and have tin or other rooves.
Now we're in a big valley, and after crossing a huge river where women wash clothes on boulders and a group of mostly naked children plays on the bank, and then driving through a short urban stretch, we're in a more densely-populated area where shop walls hold advertisements for Shalimar paints, some houses have two stories and are painted, and thatched rooves are mostly confined to sheds and stalls. Instead of large expanses of rice fields and terraces, farms consist of many small patches of different crops.
After a couple more bathroom breaks in the roadside woods, some much-appreciated crackers, and my best attempt at napping, we arrive in Nepalgunj—what appears to be a typical Nepali city. Our hotel is apparently leagues above the “Hotel Aroma,” where Mike and Chris stayed last time they were here.
Had a Chinese lunch (delicious onion and crouton soup) and then a wonderful metaphysical meeting before an Indian dinner and an early bedtime.