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Before the earthquake, Zhangmu was a common port for land transportation from Tibet to Nepal.
From Zhangmu Port to Kathmandu, Nepal, it takes up to 10 hours by local minibus. The actual distance is not far, mainly because the road conditions are not good, and the car drives bumpy and slow.
When I got into the car with my bag on my back, the car was already full of people, and even chickens and ducks were packed in cages to occupy the aisle. There’s almost nowhere to rest, let alone find a seat.
Before the car opened, an elder sister on the back seat suddenly got up and got off. I saw an open seat and immediately went to sit down.
The person next to me mumbled something to me, and I pretended I didn’t understand it, just shook my head.
10 hours, do you have to stand until Kathmandu with your bag on your back? There’s only one thought in my mind: that’s not okay.
It’s true that you don’t understand, and it’s true to pretend you don’t understand.
There is a puppet bell tower in Tbilisi. Every once in a while, the upstairs window will open and a small puppet will come out to ring the bell.
I sit on the flower bed steps outside a nearby cafe, nibbling on bread while waiting for the bell to ring.
There are many tourists coming and going, they take photos and chat, and we wait for that fixed moment together.
“Dangdang” a few sounds, the puppet came; “Dangdang” a few sounds, and the puppet left again.
A large number of tourists dispersed, and I was still sitting where I was.
Some tourists came one after another, some bent down at the bottom of the clock tower to check, and then others did the same.
I leaned in curiously, only to find a mini clock there.
Many of the tourists who were patiently waiting for the puppet to ring the bell just now missed this scene. I stayed where I was, as if I had picked up a leak.
Walking in a strange exotic street, I will greet cats and dogs, and nod and smile to people I don’t know.
Before carrying my hiking bag, I was at ease and leisurely, as if I had been living in the moment and not in a hurry.
Once you pick up your hiking bag, “hurrying” becomes the most direct way to reduce the burden.
When asking for directions at the bus station, it is often the fastest to catch the driver or conductor, because they know the route and departure time with a high probability.
Travel shattered my old sense of order.
When taking the bus or subway in China, when you see the elderly and children, you will take the initiative to give up your seats-this is like a convention, sometimes even like an obligation that you have to do; When someone cuts in line, no one accuses me. I am usually silent, don’t cause trouble, don’t talk much, and I am very calm.
But once I set foot on the journey, I felt like a different person, a different person.
It was dark when we arrived in Alexandria. Sitting on the side of the road outside the bus station in the middle of the night, minibuses and private cars drove by quickly, and my thoughts were chaotic.
This point in time is called the network car, and the price will be increased once when you come. The driver still has to call and tell himself that it is not easy.
There are still a few hours before dawn, but the prepaid room rate is also a real expense. So I got up, packed my bags, and went back into the bus station.
Like breaking through the game, I asked one passer-by after another.
The night hasn’t passed yet, and the car hasn’t arrived yet.
Finally, I met a younger brother, who didn’t plan to wait for the bus any longer. He asked us if we would stay where we were or go outside with him to find a car.
From Aswan Airport, in order to avoid the swarm of taxi drivers, a few of us strode out of the airport until the sunset filled the sky and the street lamps came on.
A pickup truck pulled up in front of us and said to stop by downtown.
Many unclear moments are spent in the mentality of “taking a gamble”.
Traveling makes me start to doubt the world.
I met a few Turks outside Aswan station and agreed to take a minibus to Luxor together.
They didn’t show up at the appointed time. We walked to the bus ticket office, only to see that they had already boarded another bus.
There are three ways to get from Aswan to Luxor: cruise ship, train and bus.
Locals’ minibuses are usually closed to tourists, but they are several times cheaper.
My friends and I asked for directions separately. When I came back from asking several bus companies, I saw those Turks saying they could take a minibus.
The driver soliciting business is a native Egyptian, fluent in English, and the price offered is incredibly cheap.
I asked the Turk if he believed the Egyptian driver, and he nodded.
As a result, when he turned around, he broke his promise, and I didn’t keep my promise.
In the end, no one got on the promised Egyptian minibus.
Start at night and arrive in the early hours of the morning-there are some risks, so don’t have to be taken.
Travel makes people cautious and learn to look for opportunities in the gaps.
Because the price is so cheap that it is full of temptation, I want to find support from other people’s judgment and convince myself that I might as well give it a try.
But it is precisely because the price is too cheap that it makes people wonder-why do you have to wait until dark to start instead of leaving immediately?
When the bus stopped in Kutaisi, I saw the only two other backpackers on the bus, so I went forward to talk: Have you booked accommodation? Do you have any recommended places? How about the price?
Two complete strangers, asking questions and answers on the street, seem to be old friends who haven’t seen for many years, and the topics are endless.
Traveling gives me a feeling of “escape”. We are all pouring out in the torrent of fate, and the people around us have changed one after another.
Because we are on the same road, we feel the same way; Therefore, there is a lot less grudge, vigilance and suspicion.
The most trustworthy person on the journey is often another self who is also carrying his bags.
But the most strange thing in the journey is precisely myself.
