In our defence, there really is no way for us to get a motorbike license in Nepal- the part about needing an Australian embassy to convert and Australian license into an international license is true. and we weren’t lying about having to have Nepali citizenship to get a Nepali license either. and in all other cases, it really was a matter of When in Nepal…..!
After a restless week around Katmandu, the four of us, Abbey Erin, Jack and I) were looking forward to making for the hills again, desperate for that lovely covered in dust feeling after a long day on the bike and hungry for the satisfaction of blowing black snot out of our noses. plus my jokes were getting really bad and I can only blame parts of that on hereditary- the trip had to be done.
By early Sunday afternoon we finally found a scooter that abbey felt comfortable driving (a very similar model to one Erin and Abbey had spent many happy weeks churning up the dust in Laos on) and we set off. As Katmandu is a valley, most of the roads leading out of it are uphill, so it took abbey a little while to realise that her left brake (the back wheel, quite crucial when you think about it) was out of order. almost rear-ending a bike in front of us, and causing our first encounter with traffic police should have told us that it was completely dysfunctional but we soldiered on.
We arrived at Godavari in time for an afternoon snack and a look around and the monastery and the Hindu temples before deciding to try to get back before dark.Jack, who was in the lead, decided to avoid the ring road which can be dangerous at night and took the route through the city streets. I heard abbey moan, ‘no jack not through the city’ but I yelled through the wind some very reassuring words and enjoyed the view (I did mention that my sense of humour has declined, right?).
Unfortunately for poor abbey though, as we reached closer and closer to the heart of Katmandu the traffic build up and buses, truck, motorbikes and bikes became more and more of a mad mess of weaving and honking and neither jokes nor genuine attempts at consoling seemed to help.
Eventually I yelled ahead to jack that we needed to pull over. A motorbike park near a group of restaurants was just the otherside of a traffic police-manned round-about, it was the last obstacle before we could give abbey a little relief.
all I can think of was that in her mind she had made it to safety so when she went for the brake the possibility of it not working was far from her mind. the irony of that day was that after navigating the madness of the roads, we crashed into parked motorbikes in front of 10 or more traffic police. and… that we had no license.
Now normally foreigners, rightly or wrongly, get waved through formalities like army checkpoints or police checks, but our bingle may have been a little hard to miss. initially they refused to believe abbey was not a Nepali- an uncanny but not uncommon mistake. Then came the trouble with the license. that it was my picture (and my name for that matter) on the license and not abbey’s was not even mentioned, but somehow abbey and jack managed to pull off the line together that in Australia the ‘car’ clasification on the license means ‘light’ so it includes motorbikes as well, while ‘heavy’ means you can drive truck and buses. they were a brilliant pair, at least from what I could hear with my back to them trying to hide my face.
Jack eventually settled it by asking if they’d like to clear up the matter with his ‘inspector friend’- and that was that, problem solved. he only admitted later that infact he didn’t have the contact number of his inspector friend. and actually, he didn’t know his name either.
So, do as the Nepali’s do and things work out ok…. though, it could be a little while before we can convince abbey to take to the road on a bike again.
