From Varanasi we took the train to Gorakhpor, we didn't see any of it as we'd been on a train for 5 hours and had another 5 hours to go by bus for the India/Nepal border. We grabbed an auto-rickshaw from the train station to the bus station, only to find out there wasn't a bus station! The buses stop on the street and shout out the door where they're going to. Thankfully our driver was excellent and parked in front of the bus we wanted so it wouldnt leave and then bargained a price for us :)
The bus journey was hot and pretty uncomfortable, there didn't seem to be a limit to how many people would get on. Martyn was chivalrous and gave me to window seat, so he had a man sat on his lap at one point!
At the border, in a town called Sunnauli, the bus wasn't able to take us to the very border so we had a 5 minute walk, where we were followed by a cycle-rickshaw urging us to get in for a lift the whole way, bit pointless really...
We got our passports stamped in a tiny office that did not look official, and were told to change money from Indian rupees to Nepali rupees as denominations over 500 were not allowed over the border.
Then that was that we walked over the border with a small stretch of no man's land, about 30 metres and into Nepal. Not even a backwards glance at the country we were leaving... Travelling all day will do that to you!
On the Nepali side we applied for a visa by filling in one side of A4, handing over $100, 2 passport photos and waiting for 10 minutes. Simple! At the office were two German people that we ended up talking to and going to the same guest house. We sat on the roof with a beer and analysed our different feelings and opinions on India before having an early night. A good nights sleep wasn't on the cards as it rained pretty much all night and the ceiling leaked all over Martyn's bed (we had a twin room) so a night sharing a single bed filled us with memories of uni halls, and falling out of bed.
The next morning we were on another bus bound for Pokhara, Nepal's second city. We thought it was a tourist bus but it was local so stopped every 10 minutes to pick up people and drop off goods along the way. It was fun for the first hour to watch the young guy hang out the door shouting "Pokhara Pokhara Pok-haaaaaa-raaaaa!" at the top of his lungs every two minutes but it wore thin when we wanted to sleep.
Slowly the scenery changed from brown to green and flat to mountainous, and it slowly sunk in that we were in a new country, with new places to explore and culture to experience.
A gruelling 11 hours later we arrived at Pokhara. With no auto-rickshaws around we were lost already, how do we get around?! Turns out that if you own a small hatchback with roofrack you can call it a taxi, so we got in a little red Suzuki and were bouncing along to the hotel.
Its a family run guest house that's been around since the 80s. Instantly comfortable in the chilled cafe/common room and enjoyed the luxury of hot showers 24/7 before falling asleep on the comfy bed (with duvet!)
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