Back in Kathmandu and Civilisation. Hooray!

Since my last post, I have been busy cramming in my last couple of weeks of Nepal, including excellent white water rafting with some nightmarish folk and finding The Perfect Hill Village (TM) which also now ranks as one of my top places in the world.

But lest you switch off as I rant about my good fortune, I thought I would encourage my (slim) readership with a tale of transport woe and increase your gratitude to the British Transport Police, as if they were not already top of your thanks-list.

Yesterday my simple 4 hour journey from Bandipur to Kathmandu became a shuddering 12 hour marathon due to an accident. Now I appreciate that travelling necessarily means delays and patience, but you must appreciate this: having stayed an extra day at my previous destination, I had run out of money, and planning on a short journey, had no food or water. Herein lies the rub.

1 hour into hitting the traffic, we had not moved. I was beginning to feel weak. After all, I had not eaten for a good four hours. And it was hot.

2 hours into hitting the traffic, we still had not moved. I was worrying for my health - heat and pollution yes, but more importantly the empty stomach.

3 hours into hitting the traffic, we still had not moved. I cut into my emergency transport money, my last 150 Rupees, to buy some chilli snacks. They kept dizziness at bay, no more.

4 hours into hitting the traffic, we had moved an encouraging 50 metres. I had begun to curse the other traffic, the man next to me's knee, and everything about the girl in front of me.

Hours 5 and 6 pass in a blur.

Hour 7, however, found me alone on the roof of the bus, frantically unroping my rucksack and tossing my clothes to the winds as I had a hunch. I was right: underneath my camera charger and insect lotion, huddled a liquid sachet of joy: melted kendal mint cake. I squeezed it into my mouth like icing sugar. I was happy.

The rest of the hours passed in a pleasant sugar haze, where I felt much more godwill for the other traffic and passengers. The cursed chilli snacks gave me greater trouble as I hadn't enough money to get from the bus station to my guesthouse, due also in part to a wily taxi driver. Luckily the sugar gave me the energy to shout back with a good deal of passion.

3 more days now, and my plan? Yes, that's right: to eat as much as humanly possible. I hate to think of the emergency provisions I will put aside for the flight home...