We left Pokhara early and caught a bus to Chitwan National Park along the Indian border. Founded in the early 1970's and was originally a place for the Royals to hunt big game. Our hotel owner arranged our bus tickets and stay while visiting the park. We piled on the bus and waited. Early is key here. They seemed to have over booked the bus. Around here patience is key. Where as in our country we have too many Chiefs and not enough villagers. Here it's the opposite. Too many villagers and not enough Chiefs. 5 locals tried to sort out the bus seats. Total chaos as usual. We didn't care. It reminded us of the bus issue we had in Bosnia a few years ago. The solution was to put more people in the front with the driver. 3 extra people on a small bench, 1 lady on the doghouse (engine compartment), and 1 behind the driver. When I say behind the driver, I mean the guy has to use one hand to hold on to the drivers seatbelt and the other on a door hinge. If not, he's on top of the driver. The bus assistant stands in the stair well. Don't be fooled by the stickers on the bus here. The big stickers that say air conditioner, air ride, wifi. Nope, no, and funny but no.
A carved out bumpy dirt road sidles along a gorge. Buses and supply trucks fight for space along the edge of the cliff. It's not a high cliff, maybe 100 foot down to a chocolate milk colored river below. Nepal is under a constant state of construction. We sit bumper to bumper on the road. Traffic stopped in both directions. The driver starts the bus and everyone perks up thinking we are about to move. We do move. About 6 feet to keep another bus, car, or scooter from sneaking in between us and the next bus. The traffic is so close to each other, that our driver gets out, uses the ladder from the bus in front of us to wash the dirt off his windshield. Once we get going again, the rush to get there is worse.
6 hours into our 5 hour bus ride we stop for a break. Everyone is tired and ready to be done. It's the normal wayside spot with a small restaurant, toilet, and convenient store. I ask the assistant how much longer and he tells me another 1.5 hours. Great.
I go to the toilet line. 6 stalls with the Westerners lined up. When I get close to front, a group of local ladies create another line. The other westerners don't know what to do. The locals zip in and out of the stalls too fast to catch a break. I'm not new here. I know the drill. When I get to the front, it "high noon" time. Just as a local cracks open the door to a stall I grab the door first and rush in. Success!
Sure enough, 7.5 hours into our 5 hour trip, we arrive in Sauraha, a town at the entrance of the national park. All the bus stations are the same here. You get off the bus, go to the back to get your luggage and are bombarded with people wanting to take you to your hotel. "Taxi!" "Where are you going?" Some are representing hotels in town and are looking for their guest so they yell the names of hotels. "Rhino Lodge!" "Rhino Safari Resort!" "Riverside Wildlife Hotel!" "Monkey Butt Hideaway!" Ok. The last one was a joke. To be honest we hadn't even looked at the paperwork to see which place was arranged for us. The crowd had settled and the drivers left stood in the shade of a tree with signs. I stood in front of them and pull the slip of paper from my pack. And yelled like they do to us, "Tiger Wildlife Camp!" "Tiger Wildlife Camp?!" None of them expected that. Our driver held his hand up and I yelled, "ok! Let's go!" And laughed. Some of the drivers laughed, others were still in shock. Our guy cleared the ducks resting under his car and we took off.
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