Travelogue: Escape from Nepal

The hardest day of my life. My body is pushed to its utmost extremes. I can only imagine the layer of filth that covers my face. The whole night I've spent agitated as the only other woman on the bus was replaced by a rotund and sweaty older man, who naturally decided to sit next to me. I am ashamed to say the only thing that kept me sane were two male fellow foreigner backpackers in the seats behind me, who most likely did not suspect I was anything other than an impoverished Nepali school girl or boy. Still, they gave me a glimmer of hope that someone might understand my English protests given the need. I attempt to sleep with my bag in my lap looped tightly around my wrist, and my eye on the rotund man’s loose limbs.
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The cool evening gives way to an unbearably humid morning and the flooded plains are now visible. The mud slows down the bus and we experience much more frequent stops. I have to pee for the first time in 12 hours and I have no idea how to. My gesticulations eventually result in a slightly amused/ mostly apathetic gesturing toward a sawdust pile along the edge of the road and I haven’t the strength to gasp in horror. Thankfully, I am a fast urinator.

My head hangs outside of the window like those dogs you see in the summer time at home. I wish I had brought a handkerchief to wear over my mouth to filter out the pollution that is part of the reason why my white polo is now a medium gray.

Sweaty is a way of life I’ve come to embrace.