On April the 11th I tried to make my way from Pokhara to Kolkata, usuing the Birganj bordercrossing. After a 9 hour bus journey I finally arrived in Birganj, everything went smooth and I jumped on the back of a ricksjaw. After a while it was clear that we where coming closer to the border, miles of trucks lined up with ricksjaws and horscars trying to make their way through it. Giant clouds of smog and dust hang above the road as a thick fogg. Sufficating would have been easy. After being stuck in traffic for ages I figured it would be quicker to walk and said goodbye to my ricksjawdriver goodbye. After a while the traffic seemed to fade away and I did not see any checkpost yet. Asking for directions proofed to be difficult since no one spoke any english. I got send back and forward for a while untill someone told me I was already in India. That's odd. No checkpost? No immigration? I would need a arrival stamp to be able to leave the country don't I? Even the police didn't seem to have a clue. Even when I told them I didn had a stamp they couldnt be bothered to help out.

After another 20 minutes of hassle and walking around I was able to locate the small Indian immigration office, tucked away behind a bridge. Finally, some progress. After studying my passport for a while he asked my if I wanted to go to Nepal. I tried to explain that I had just came from there but he didn't understand. A second officer walked in, gave a glance at my Nepali visa and told me I needed a departure stamp from the Nepali immigration office, wich again, I did not see. Meanwile the power went out, and the road was dark and hazy. I tried to make my way back to Nepal, wih was a 2km walk through the intens smog and steamy noisy trucks. My clothes and skin had become black. Visibility was limited to 3 meters. I located a Nepali policeman who was nice enough to point out the direction with his flashlight. I found the Nepali immigration, again a strange location stuffed away in the bushes. The office was tiny and I found myself surrounded with 4 friendly officers who gave me a warm welcome. After chatting with them for a while I made my way back to the Indian office. Just before I arrived I got approaced by a guy with a long beard and dreads. At first I was relieved to see another tourist. I walked up to him, glad thinking I could share my story with someone. "He, what a hassle this border huh?" "Tell me about it, I had so many problem, I was arrested and fcking this fcking that *starts to speak in russian*" "Seriously? What happned", I asked. "They handcoffed me, I india village 2 months escaped, I let in nowhere *speaks russian again*" "Dude, I dont speak any russian, please speak English to me and explain what's going on" Then he began to talk about the power, and the god, and how he will move this truck with his mind. And how everything was so dark. It was clear that he wasn't on any drugs, but was just totaly out of his mind. He said alot more that scared me, or that I couldnt understand, so I walked away to the immigration office. He followed me up and continued babeling weird shit and russian in the office. When I left they send him away and he followed me up. Again he began to speak about his dark powers and so much more, it terrefied me.

Again I asked him to speak in English, but couldn’t be bothered. I decided to buy him some food and give it one last try. Once he began to be aggressive to Indians I was sick of it and said goodbye. I told him I had to be somewhere and went to look for a ricksjaw. In the mean time he was staring to yell to me ass well, and kept following me around till I finally found a ricksjaw. As it turns out, I did’t plan my escape with much presicion. The ricksjaw I had picked out, powered by a small man and his legs only, wasn’t excactly off to what you’d call a flying start. I jumped in the back with the Ukrainian baba still following my every step. The whole scnene looked rediculas. Here I am, trying to escape from a wild savage, helpless like a snail running away from an eagle, sitting in tha back,with this Baba walking same pace next to me, staring intensely into my eyes. “Are you running away from me?” “No.” “Yes, No.” “Yes, I don’t understand you, you’re freaking me out” Finally my driver got up to car chase worthy speed and rushed away. Baba was trying to keep up, chasing the ricksjaw, and slightly panicking my driver. “Oh my, this guy, crazzyyyy” my driver yelled out while we finally managed to escape. I told him the story of what happened at the border, and he was delighted to be of good service. I realized I didn’t point out any destination yet when I got asked where to go. I had about 100 rupees left, so figured visiting an ATM would be a wise decision. We stopped for a chai and beedi on the way, later arriving at the nearest atm to find out it was closed. “No problem sir, we try next” What followed was a financial tour of every atm in that small, dirty, crowded bordertown, coming to same conclusions again and again. I told my driver it was ok and I could just go tomorrow. “big problem sir, no tomorrow” “what do you mean, no tomorrow? I’m not planning to die, we try tomorrow.” “No sir, tomorrow Sunday, no open” “Oh shit, perfect” “Oke, challo, let’s find me a hotel”. At alarming suddenness my driver came to a halt, turned around, and got back to speed faster then his motorized compagnion could have accomplished. “Crazy baba!” There he stood in the middle of the road, appearing out of nowhere like a ghost, his eyes staring with that same intens look as before, meeting mine. My driver turned into a small alley and gone he was out of sight out of mind, but not in this case. It would be the last time I saw him, but I still picture him standing there on that road.

Speeding through the small alleyways of Raxaul wondering if I did a good job leaving him like that we came to a halt before a quite large local hotel. We walked inside and got greeted by an albino Indian guy who didn’t seem to be too happy to host me in the first place. I tried to explain my situation (having no money), but Mr. driver took the word. What followed was a long intense conversation in Hindi, witch the receptionist occasionally giving a glance in my direction and continued to speak. The conversation came to an end and my driver waved me outside. Apparently there was one atm open at the edge of town. Again I entered his couch, and off we went. I got a bit tired sitting at this too small bench bumping around the narrow alleys and holly highways, bumping my head to the roof at every hole in the road. I was delighted, however, to get some money out and possibly starting to make my way to Kolkata that same night. In the distance I saw a shimmering light, ICICI was written above and people walked in and out. It was a delightful sight. I walked inside filled with confidence, entered my card, ordered the amount and happily waited for my money. The machine nonchalantly ejected my card, pointing out the me there were insufficient funds to complete my request. That’s it, I’m not going to Kolkata tonight. Defeated I walked back to my new friend and explained the situation. “Oke friend, tomorrow, we go Nepal, only possibility for money”. I had already used both entries on my visa, but knew it was easy to sneak across the border without passing customs, due to my experience earlier that day.

Back to the hotel another long conversation followed, finally, apparently with much reluctance, the receptionist accepted me as a guest. I thanked my driver and agreed to meet him the next morning.
The hotel was something different. The corridors where long and dark, dirty and trashed in the corners. The heath was hot, the smell narcotic. The place felt distant, I liked it. I was pretty hungry, so ditched my stuff and went out in search for a place to spend part of my last supply of rupees. Walking down the streets I heard loud music coming from one of the buildings, I followed the sound and end up in a large room filled with dancing people. I was the only foreigner and all eyes turned in my direction. I got invited the join the singing and dancing, a sight to behold. Then, like a mysterious answer to my never out called prayers relevant to my situation, I got dragged up the stairs of the building, ending up at the roof. The festival was Hindu, but sitting on the floor where Sikhs, Muslims and Hindu’s, large plate’s positioned in front of then while men came bye with large buckets. Inside a variety of lovely dishes. There was Gulab Jamun, Biryani, chapatti’s, Samosa’s and dozens of other’s. A lovely aroma filled the evening sky. It got invited to sit with them and offered a plate. I, however was told not to see this meal as food, rather then an honouring for the god rama. It was the most delicious honouring I’d ever done!

That night I didn’t got a lot of sleep, just coming from the Himalaya’s, my body still needed to adapt to the heath. The mosquito’s seemed to enjoy the cold mountain blood that was running through my veins. I woke up with a bounce on my door, it was my new friend the driver, ready to continue the search for a working atm. I got dressed and left the building. It was 8 o clock, the last train to Kolkata would depart at 12 and I was not planning to stay another day on the border. We rushed off in opposite direction as the Nepali border. Everyone seemed to verify the fact that there were no ATM’s open on the Indian side that day but my driver was resolute. I was very annoyed with wasting time going the opposite direction on the slow pace of the bike Ricksjaw. For a moment I hesitated to switch to motorricksjaw but didn’t want to abandon my friend who has been so helpful the other day. My presumption got verified, the atm was closed.

We arrived back at the lovely railway crossing on the border, wich offcourse, was closed again with no train to be seen. Again, miles of trucks with rumbling engines, car’s with whinnying horses, cow’s, donkey’s, riccksjaws with screaming drivers and motorbikes lined up. Time was ticking bye and slowly I got more and more annoyed, willing to leave my driver behind and walk across the border myself. Finally the barriers opened up and traffic started to flow, off course with the necessary hick-ups. I was happy to be on the way. It was 10 o clock, we would go across the border without any officially hassle, got to the ATM, get my money and be in time for the 12 o clock train to Kolkata. However, my driver had slightly different plans, stopping at the Indian side immigration office. I tried to explain, there was no need for any of that, and time was running low. “Just go, come fast just get money, no stamp, not necessary”. He didn’t seem to care much and walked in. Again a time consuming conversation started between the officers and Mr Driver. At this point I was getting pretty upset with my driver, I wished I just left him and walked across myself. It would have been much, much faster. An Indian immigration joined us in the ricksjaw and escorted us to the Nepali office, where offcourse, again, a long time consuming conversation took place. Finally one of the officers turned to me; “So you need to go to Nepal to withdraw money?” ‘”Yes, and I like to get on the 12 o’clock train”. “Oke, 5000 rupees” “What?!” At this point I got furious, knowing I could have been done I I just went by myself, and now they are trying to blackmail me? “5000 rupees, are you crazy? Didn’t you heared about my situation? I have no money, I have a problem. I’m not gonna pay you, forget about it, it’s not gonna happen!” The officer looked at me,; “5000, 5000!”. “No, you’re crazy I’m not bribing you”. Meanwhile time was ticking bye and changes I’d make my train where getting slimmer with the second. I had to make some compromises if I was willing to get anywhere. “Oke”, I said, “I’ll pay you 1000, but ONLY if I’m gonna make my train” “No bargening here, this is officials, no bargening sir!” “I’m not bargenign,” I saind slightly nonchalant, “I’m offering you a way to help me and get some money, or no money at all”. The officers looked at each other, slightly confused with this smartass Whiteman in their office. “Ok”, he said finaly. “2000”. “1500, last offer” I said firmly. They agreed and finally I entered Nepal. The first atm we went came across was reluctant to take my card, I kept my hopes up and moved on to the next one. After 4 rejections I was getting pretty desperate. After the 5th atm, wich officially should allow my card, rejected it I didn’t knew what to do. I bought a package of Beedi’s from my last 10 rupees and lit one up. “I’m so fucked for the moment”, I heard myself thinking. Gut feeling slippend in and made me try that same machine again, I entered my card, typed in the code, ordered an amount. Silence, my card ejaculated from the machine. Silence. I could feel my hart pounding in my chest. Rattle. The slot of the machine opened up and ejacted a stack of beautifull beige Nepali note’s. A load felt of my shoulders, I had managed, all my hassle had paid off and I was able to make my way out. I felt victorious. Offcourse I didn’t end up making my train, and did pay the officers on my way out, but I had my money and I was happy. I ended up taking a train to Muzaffapur from where I switched on a night train to Kolkata.

The journey from the Himalaya's to Nepal has become one never to forget