She was surprised to see me but still had a big smile for me

Mom is cutting cucumbers on the lawn while her daughter does her homework

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2003-09-07 - Nepalganj - Butwal (Day 145)

Knock! Knock! Knock! Oh how I hate that waiters will knock on one's door at 6am to ask if you want to place a breakfast order! It is just a horrible way to wake up. This one was worse then others yelling into the room in Hindi after he knocked. Of course, we are all up now so I meet Noam and Gal downstairs and we pack up and head out.

We have a bright sunny morning, kids are going to school and farmers are leading their oxen down the roads. On a sunny morning like this riding in Nepal is simply incomparable. For the first time since Agra, I have my mp3 player on and with tunes loud in my ears I am riding through the countryside. I have pulled out the music as both Noam and Gal have minidisk players, which reminded me that I brought the MP3 player just for this purpose, but because one is always listening for the horn of that Tata truck coming around the corner in India, I have never used it. Here in Nepal there is very little traffic and more important the road so far has been absolutely flat and you can see any vehicles while they are several kilometers away.

The first chai-stop an hour down the road finds all three of us in high spirits. The drive and weather are both wonderful. The biggest risk so far on the road has been the butterflies that are all around us and we keep hitting. I see Noam dodge several but I wasn't so lucky, so excited to have music I am singing along and floooop, a butterfly flies in my mouth and right down my throat. I will not recommend that as a good breakfast for anyone. The little chai-stop is a collection of small tea-huts right next to each other and the owners all come out to greet us as we come in. The Nepali people are so friendly! While Noam and Gal rest under the shade, I am filling my camera with these wonderful smiles.

The rest of the day offers nothing unusual and we pull in to Butwal and drive around looking for a good hotel. It is now quite hot and when I notice a sign that reads, "The Ice Cream Experts" it is easily decided where we are going first. The ice-cream shop is in the lobby of a hotel which is reasonable but Noam and Gal go off to look around and see if there is anything better. I stay with the bikes and keep the kids off my GPS. Never one for waiting, when they still have not returned after an hour I have lost my sense of humor. The light is almost gone which negates my main reason for stopping a little early, to have time to go around town looking for photographs and I'm quite angry for the first time in a couple of months. Trying to salvage some of the light I quickly unpack and take the only somewhat decent room in the hotel - it turned out to be much worse then it appeared. As I was getting on the bike to leave Noam and Gal show up but it is not the best time to talk to me so I am happy in knowing that they are there to take care of their bikes.

Butwall is a large township by the standards of what I have seen in Nepal so far but is oriented around just two streets and I was quickly beyond those riding on dirt paths into the outlying villages. This was wonderful as the heavy loud "thump-thump" of the Enfield attracts attention from a long ways away and here everyone was stopping what they were doing to see who the heck this was. When they realized it was some white-tourist mouths literally dropped. I have walked in the wrong side of town in places like New York and Washington, D.C. and had almost exactly the same looks, which seem to say, "Boy, you are in the Wrong place! You shouldn't be here!" However, here in Nepal that look was without menace, more just amusement at how the heck did I get so lost as to be here. I continually had kids running up to the bike yelling, "where are you going?" which is one of the first sentences they learn in English school and one I've heard a lot since being here. In this case, my response was, "your house!" which made them all smile.

The light did not last long so I decided to get rid of this mane and beard that had become quite unruly and stopped into the local barbershop. For some reason this is always an experience I dread. In this case the shave was what added color. The barber was determined to give me the closest shave possible. He lathers me up and with a straight razor takes the beard off, adds some aftershave and water to cool me down, then lathers me up again. He gives me a second shave and using a big piece of salt puts it on the skin, which stings and then adds some talc to my face. Then he lathers me up AGAIN! The third shave seems to be an exfolient more then anything, as I do not think there are any remnants of a beard left and then there are still a couple more potions put onto my skin. I thank him for his effort but this was way over the top for a shave though I must admit, it is close!

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