Name that bush: Departure from Leh was becoming a concern as I was struggling with the decision to either head west toward Srinagar to muck about in the green mountains and lively waterways (incidentally a decision that would have put me much nearer the Pakistani earthquake where a number of people would lose their lives) or head back to Manali by bus, make my way for Delhi and then back home to Mumbai. A bout of homesickness and desire for the stability of Mumbai made my decision for me and so a booking was in order for a deluxe bus back the 485km I’d just cycled (not very romantic is it?). The only deluxe private bus is scheduled for departure every other day from Leh and I was ready to go:
Travel Agent: “A bus is scheduled to leave tomorrow morning at 5:00a.m.”
Me: “Lucky me! That’s great, I’ll come back in a few hours and confirm my ticket.”
(A few hours later)
Travel Agent: “Ohhhhh, I’m sorry, it seems there was a group of people that wanted to leave today so the bus took them early. Therefore, there won’t be another bus until day after tomorrow.”
Me: (hmmm, I suppose I can squeeze another day of excitement out of Leh, I’ll give it a shot) “Okay, I’ll confirm the ticket tomorrow.”
(Tomorrow)
TA: (getting off the phone with bus company) “Well, yesterday they told me there would be a bus leaving tomorrow, now they are saying not until the day after tomorrow.”
Me: (hmmm, I suppose I can squeeze another day of excitement out of Leh, I’ll give it a shot) “Okay, I’ll confirm the ticket tomorrow.”
(Tomorrow)
TA: “No problem, here’s your receipt for the bus tomorrow morning. Come back before 6:00p.m. and I’ll give you the bus number”
Fine. I thought it was a little strange that I needed a bus number since at 4:30 a.m. there would be only one bus leaving Leh and therefore not much reason to be confused by a convoy of trickster bus drivers. Oh well, the travel agent wasn’t there that evening to give me the bus number anyway.
(Tomorrow, 4:30 a.m.) (and I’m very much ready to thank Leh for the good times and leave) (…it’s a beautiful place but I can only sit in one spot and read books and eat cookies for so long)
(There’s a group of nine of us waiting outside.)
Bus agent: “Ah, hello, please come inside…unfortunately the bus won’t be here today.” He says trained and casually...
And so started a string of lies a mile long that burrowed the bus agent deeper and deeper into an argument with a sleepy pile of frustrated foreigners (an argument that would extend until about 8:30 a.m.). --Sitting here writing I’m tempted to launch into this exchange as it really was cute how creative this kid was with the excuses he fabricated and the lies that we caught him with over and over again. However, this blog entry is getting really long and I’ve probably lost most of my audience to “Baywatch” on the tele or other messages in your Email inbox which begin “increase your size…”. So I best let it rest. No, no, please don’t beg, there’s really no need, I’ve made up my mind to quit.
Okay, okay, I’ll make it quick, those of you that made it this far really must be devoted readers (or suspecting a personal phone call and a quiz).
Us: Why is there no bus?
Pure Evil: The bus is stopped about 150km from here at a village called Pang for incorrect registration papers.
Us: Gee, that’s too bad, what are our other options as some of us need to be in Manali tomorrow?
PE: I know another company here in town; there is a group of 18 Tibetans that want to leave tomorrow. You’ll be able to join them.
Us: But you told us the bus only seats 26, how will we all fit?
Us: That is unacceptable, some of us have been waiting many days for this bus and we need to be in Manali tomorrow. This “registration” business is clearly the fault of the bus company; you will be paying the premium for us to hire a private jeep to leave today.
PE: I’m sorry I can’t do that, the bus company would be losing money should we agree to such a thing.
Us: Why didn’t you tell us yesterday there would be no bus?
Pure Evil: It would not have made any difference.
Us: It’s clear to us that you are not taking us today because there aren’t enough passengers to make a profit on the trip. You simply want to bunch us together with this larger group leaving tomorrow.
PE: Oh no, sometimes we leave here with only two passengers on the bus; we pick passengers up along the way to recover our expenses.
Us: Right, let’s go have a look at the bus stand for these private jeeps…
Us: Say, what’s that deluxe bus over there?
PE: That bus is in need of repair; it is missing a lug nut and won’t be ready until 3:00 this afternoon. But we don’t have a driver for it anyway.
Us: When did a missing lugnut ever impede a buses progress here in India? And who’s that fellow sitting in the driver’s seat?
Etc. etc. and so it went.
(Later, going through the village of Pang in our private taxi we looked around for a big deluxe bus said to be marooned here with a driver without papers. Hmmm, couldn’t seem to find it. Asking the army checkpoint guys if such a bus had been stopped here for invalid registration papers we were told that no such event happened and tehre certainly is no deluxe bus stopped here. Ahhhh, no deluxe bus…)
And what a motley crew we were stuffed into that jeep: two Germans, an Indian fellow (who smoked more Marijuana than I could understand) and his seven-year old British step-daughter, a Canadian girl, Irish bloke, the American Me, and our humorless driver who was convinced we were committing a major injustice by choosing his jeep and so giving him a job for the next three days (pushing him out of the vehicle and driving ourselves was a fantastic option we should have executed). The plan was to make it back to Manali that night/early morning despite twelve straight hours of driving and our driver obviously contemplating our individual deaths. As the beautiful scenery unfolded throughout the day our requests to stop for things as ludicrous as food or a toilets irked the driver noticeably more with each passing moment. I’m pretty sure he figured his life to be a trivial sacrifice by wrecking the car to kill all inside…but he would never get the chance; late into the night we would be stopped at a routine army checkpoint and told that the bridge 20 km ahead was out for repair, “The bridge will be fixedby early morning, I recommend you stay at so-and-so’s hotel until then…” the friendly army fellow told us.
Given the rough morning, and later a driver trained in driver’s school to make passengers uncomfortable, we were immediately suspiciouse of this army fellow. I happened to know that this hotel was very expensive, also knew that no Indian time schedule includes the overnight rush of tearing down a bridge and then rebuilding it again by dawn, also our house German mentioned that the same “bridge” thing happened to a friend just a week ago. Without needing a vote from the committee we swiftly concluded that the army fellow was talking nonsense and must have been hooked up with the hotel owner for kickbacks. We insisted, despite our driver’s obvious displeasure in the idea, that we drive down to the bridge and see this “bridge under repair” for ourselves. Yep, sure enough there the bridge stood, erected boldly over the rushing river below…Oh dear…being taken apart by a crew of men. Blast!
One thing was clear though, this bridge was being taken apart by a group of fellows getting steadily more and more pissed as the cold of the night approached. One more thing was clear (despite the promises of the drunken workers) this bridge would not be rebuilt by 5:00 a.m. Other jeep drivers were parked up the hill, passengers sardined inside steamed up windows and waiting for the early morning call to cross the bridge. We were uncomfortable sitting upright in the vehicle and lying on top of esach other (as these other passengers must have been) sounded like a rotten idea. Assuming that this bridge would not be “crossable in only a few hours” we decided to head back to a hotel we had passed earlier . After about 45 MINUTES of arguing with the driver, we drove back the 10 kilometers and stayed in a nice hotel (drivers receive free room and board, why our driver was so adamant about sleeping in the vehicle remains a mystery). Well rested we felt little reason the next morning to rush out and make for the bridge and so had a leisurely breakfast. On the road by 10:00 we passed the line of jeeps parked and still fogging up inside reaching the bridge that was...still being taken apart! It seems the bridge wouldn’t be done until 5 o’clock today…or maybe tomorrow…we should just wait. Ha! A quick deal with a jeep waiting on the other side and we crossed the river on foot with our luggage. We were off to Manali a few minutes later (never to see our rotten driver who grudgingly drove back early to his wife and home from a trip he didn’t want to take in the first place).
