The air is white with mist like a sheer silk scarf. A neighboring cow moos quietly, birds chatter in a red poinsettia tree, and a hen with her brood of chicks strolls down the street. The day is very young; light is just peeking over the ridge and the children are still asleep. We have a long journey ahead of us, not so much in the way of distance, but arduous because of the roads.
We wind up the road to Kalimpong comprised mostly of switchbacks, the potholes larger than the vehicle. The dirt track was muddy due to last nights rain and broken branches and fallen leaves are like a carpet. The constant bouncing and jarring is tiring. The local people like to say, ‘riding in a car is like getting aerobic exercise.’
From Kalimpong the journey leads to Siligiri. From there we proceed to the India border patrol and then on to Karkavita, the Nepal border. Fortunately there was less traffic so early in the morning but once we reached Siligiri there were throngs of rickshaws, tuk tuks, bicycles, and Tata trucks loaded down with every kind of wares. The workday had begun for the masses.
At the India border I go to the immigration office. It is necessary to fill out a form and have one’s passport stamped before exiting a country and prior to entering a new country. There are always swarms of people at the border. Jonathan arranges a communal taxi to take me to the airport. A person cannot take their car over the border without red tape, so he always leaves me at that point. Across the border, I enter the Nepal immigration office. It is a small, very worn building with a handmade wooden counter and 2 simple wooden desks. There are no computers and mostly, no electricity.
2 women share the taxi with me. The driver pulled over past the immigration office. He was waiting for someone to join us. 15 minutes pass while I watched 3 men using shovels and hoes clean out the storm drains, ditches that line the street. The loathsome mess was black, slimy and pungent. An old beaten down man walked towards the car. I snapped his photo. He walked to the sludge and pulled out 2 tin cans, dropping them into a dirty bag hung over his shoulder. I flinched because it was so disgusting! My heart was gripped with sympathy for this man and I was extremely grateful that ‘my’ children were off the streets, in our safe homes, so that their future would not mirror his.
The drive to the airport from the border should take approximately 30 – 45 minutes. I budgeted 2 hours in case of delays and it was a smart move. The taxi waited for a passenger, a woman. Next, he drove to another location, honked the horn long and loud where some others joined us. A total of 7, including myself, and a toddler were packed into the taxi. 20 minutes later we were stopped at a police barrier. A policeman looked at me then walked to the rear of the car and opened the hatch. I could not see what was happening but I heard the word ‘tourist’ and thought something was amiss. I opened the car door and walked to the back where 3 policemen and the driver were enthusiastically rifling through my underwear, shampoo and dirty pajamas. I was indignant! What right do they have to search my bag?
I had 4 plastic containers of beads that I had brought with me for craft projects with the children. The men had the containers open. They pawed through the beads, pinching them, holding them up to the light as if they were trying to find explosives. They even bit them! The men did not speak English but I said, “Necklace”. I gestured to my neck drawing an invisible necklace with my finger. I wondered if they imagined that I was traveling with expensive gems so I said, “Plastic”, over and over. I knew it was a word most people knew. Finally the police were satisfied and we journeyed on.
I checked my watch as we stopped again at a bamboo structure where the father of the toddler got out and gave his daughter a drink of water. When we were near the airport the driver pulled over yet again! The reason was unknown to me but the father took the opportunity to walk up the road carrying his little daughter. The driver returned and drove around to find the father. After successfully locating the missing passenger, we drove on and at last, reached the airport at Bhadrapur. Without much time to spare, I boarded the plane to Kathmandu!