Forced halts
To devout Hindus, Varanasi is the holiest of cities, and Hindu pilgrims come to the city from all parts of the world. Large throngs gather along the banks of the sacred Ganges River, where terraced landings, or ghats, lead down to the water.
Nepal doesn't seem to want to let us leave. A nationwide strike organized by militant Maoists holds us up for three days. In another tiny distant village, we have to travel to buy food. Laurent volunteers to go, but when he hops in the Scenic, she refuses to turn over. The antitheft system of the car, controlled by the ECU, is locked. Poring over our manual in search for the answer, we surmise that the ECU is dead, the humidity and water of the rains too much for it to handle. Contacting Renault in Paris, we arrange to have a new one sent by DHL-no small feat.
The journey to Kathmandu starts by bicycle to the next village 13 miles away. Then Laurent hitches a ride by tractor to a place where he can catch a pickup to a larger village, from whence he can take a minibus into Kathmandu.
To make matters worse, Laurent has been suffering from ticks that have laid eggs, creating an irresistible urge to scratch, which only inflames and makes the urge stronger. The journey to Kathmandu is two-fold: pick up the ECU and find a doctor. Two days later, Laurent disembarks from the minibus in the capital city, now in serious agony. In normal situations, his behavior would have garnered disgusted looks from passersby.
Only today is different: The normally tranquil streets of Kathmandu are filled with people hysterical and crying in pain. CNN reports the King and seven members of the royal family are dead, and the son of the King, who committed these crimes, shot himself after the act. Rumors abound that Maoist rebels have had a hand in this to trigger a coup d'etat. Confusion rules. Men have shaved their heads in a sign of mourning, martial law is declared, the military marches through the streets, bands of journalists roam around looking for the latest scoop, and students conduct demonstrations.
In the middle of this, Laurent is after one thing: the ECU. Walking to the airport (no public transport exists), he finally reaches the customs office. But as it turns out, import taxes amount to 150 percent of the amount, and our carnet de passage (visa) is required. This was left, foolishly, in the Scenic, and contact must be made with Philippe to get a faxed copy. How is this possible in a village with no phone? Thank heavens for the Internet!
Philippe, concerned with what was happening (it has been seven days since he and Laurent made contact), makes his way to the nearest village where there are computers. The carnet de passage is faxed, the ECU released, and yes, the minuscule ticks deadened by powder easily bought in any pharmacy. After 11 days, the ECU is finally with the car. Renault walks us through the process by phone, and the ECU is installed. Laurent eagerly takes the keys and tries to rev her up. No go. Previous attempts to start the car daily had taken its toll. The engine is flooded.
After three hours' on-the-job training in electronics, the Scenic is off. We finally leave Nepal and return to India via Western Bengal. As we climb towards Darjeeling, the cool wind blowing across mountainsides covered with tea fields makes us quickly forget the unbearable scorching heat of the Terai. On the road we bump into the Toy Train that puffs and pants its way up to an altitude of just over 6,300 feet.
Nepal Facts
* Nepal's population is 25 million people. It has 12 radio stations, six Internet service providers, and one broadcast TV station.
* It is one of the poorest countries in the world; per capita income is approximately $250 U.S. per year.
* Of the world's 14 mountains that exceed 26,000 feet above sea level, eight are in Nepal, including Mt. Everest.
* Textiles and leather goods comprise more than 80 percent of Nepal's exports.
6,200 miles from North to South
It's just an amazing feeling coming into Calcutta-the city of Mother Teresa and of the poet Tagore. We wind our way through the sea of cars, rickshaws, and pedestrians. Amongst these, one thing in particular takes us aback-the hand-drawn rickshaws. How can these men find the strength to pull a cart with two or three people in it? This is in contrast to the India of fast economic growth, where there are brand-new cars in the street.
After four days of hell on the bumpy old roads of Orissa, a magical sight suddenly appears from behind the hill-the Indian Ocean. At Visakhaptnam we discover that the Indians, too, like to go to the beach for their holidays. Hundreds of beautiful villas and blocks of flats have been newly built along the coast. And with all the film posters that cover the walls of the town, you'd think you were at the Cannes Film Festival. Surrounded by this surreal decor in the heart of India, it's us who are the stars. The crowd of curious onlookers is such that as we arrive at the hotel, the police have to help us out of our car.
Going still further south, we pass through Madras and stop off at Tiruchirappalli. From the top of Rock Temple, which sits on top of an enormous boulder more than 200 meters high, the view is fantastic. About 250 miles away towards the south, the land stops. Kanavakumari, the southernmost point, will see the end of our 15 degrees latitude in our 15-day trip. These are our last miles in India, this subcontinent that has so fascinated us, a nation unique in its diversity.
On the road again from Sikhim to Sri Lanka, the car fails to start one morning. We get her going again but we are terrified we might not have properly installed the ECU. Not wanting to take any chances, we make a group decision: drive non-stop to Trivandrum (in the south), over 1,800 miles without stopping. Taking turns on this shift, we only take breaks in towns where DHL exists, in case any emergency packages need to be sent. When we finally arrive to take the ferry to Sri Lanka, we have to leave the Scenic behind. We only pray she will start up again when we return.
After a month in Sri Lanka without the car, we're back in India, at Trivandrum. We turn the key of the Scenic. The sweet sound of the engine roars to life. We have not had a problem since.