This photo only courtesy of travelblog's ben.For some unusual reason, I am taken to bus travels than trains. Trains stifle me, and I am reduced to being a prisoner. I even like the rush of the wind - dusty it maybe - against my hair. As long as no one intrudes on my tiny space and I see a myriad of sceneries passing before me, I am a happy soul.
I am somehow wondering why I feel like the lone traveller in most of my rides. I usually end up the only foreigner on my bus rides, train rides and border crossings. Aren't November and December supposed to be peak season for tourists' visits in India, and all over Asia? But looking back, even my Myanmar trip last March was much of the same. I ended up the only foreigner on a night bus from Yangon to Bagan. What is with that?
SOUNDBITES # 1
On a bus from Pokhara Nepal to the bordertown of Bhairawa, an old lady fully covered in several layers of textiles (it must have been 8-9 degrees) sat beside me.
Old lady: *+++&^^%^%^
(I turned to her and smiled.)
Me: Sorry, no Nepali! I don't understand.
(She smiles.)
Old lady: Oh, Japanese! (Stops herself for a second, then constinues...) Ah, Korean!
SOUNDBITES # 2
A reed-thin Nepali man stares intently at me. I was cam-clicking at the temple before me. Swayambhunath rises from a hill and offers specatcular views of the whole of Kathmandu.
Thin Man: From where you are?
Me: Philippines! (Emphatic, with a smile.)
Thin man: Ahhhh, Bangladesh!
This is the Eye in the Sky.
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