I cannot believe the change only few short metres can make. On the surface, Nepal appears no different to India on the other side of the border. Same potholes in the road. Same lock-up shops. Same paddy fields. Even the clothes are similar.
But the faces look completely different..more Tibetan or Chinese than Indian. The children are playing in the fields and streets, not working in them. Smiles are plentiful and free, not a forerunner to a demand for rupees. The streets are not paved with rubbish. People seem more relaxed.
The road to Chitwan is calm with little traffic. Horns are only used when necessary. Beyond the green fields we can see mountains in the distance. As we pass through the villages, there is a mix of housing from traditional clay houses with their thatch roofs to modern 3 storey villas that would not look out of place on the Mediterranean. Many have small gardens with vegetables and flowers growing. Animals are tethered close by and most have free range chickens and geese roaming around. In every village there appears to be a fantastic, huge swing (constructed from 10m high bamboo poles with a long rope) with children playing on it. Our new bus continues to bounce along the road.
Driving along the mountain valley, little huts and homes are perched precariously on the slopes. Paddy field terraces and smallholdings are evident on both sides of the fast flowing river but there are no access roads. Every few miles, we notice a small platform on either side with a couple of cables. Between the cables another platform is suspended and people can cross the river using a pulley system.
Entering Chitwan National Park, we move to another era and landscape. Our accommodation is a collection of wooden huts on stilts, shaded by trees. It is hot and humid and the rooms are damp. Even the bedding is damp. But it is totally charming and so peaceful..
In the evening we take a brief wander round the village, where they still live in traditional clay houses with thatched roofs. Our guide shows us round a typical family home. It is cool and dark, and swept clean. The only evidence of modern living are the electric cable which is suspended across the roof from room to room and the television in the one of the living/bed rooms.
After this we are taken to the elephant breeding centre. Here, 6 female elephants are tethered by chains to their feet under shelters, but otherwise, do not appear to be maltreated. We hand feed bananas to the baby and watch as 2 females strain their tethers to touch trunks as though they are conforting each other.
As sunset approaches we head towards the river. We walk down a path where there are more elephant shelters with 4 big bull elephants, still with long horns, even though they have been sawn to half length. We are warned not to approach them as they can be aggressive but inevitably some want their photo taken. It's fortunate that Jamie is millimetres out of reach as she fails to spot the massive trunk trying to swipe her from behind as a friend takes her photo. Down at the river, there are 2 rhinos submerged in the water less than 10metres away from us. They remain calm as we approach the river bank above them. As I sit down on the bank to watch the rhinos and the sunset, it is impossible not to feel so incredibly privileged to be in such a location.
We have been promised entertainment for the evening after dinner and we are not disappointed. The young village men skip and swirl around, clapping their sticks together to fight off the tigers, sloth bears and rhinos and celebrate the harvest. Morris dancing made macho in a Nepali stylee. For the grand finale, we have whirling dervishes and then the women are invited to join in. I am pulled into the centre and as I try to keep up with the fit young man in front of me swinging his hips and gyrating, I am at least one beat behind. Bruce Forsyth's Generation Game comes to mind. I think I'm about to be eliminated.
But the faces look completely different..more Tibetan or Chinese than Indian. The children are playing in the fields and streets, not working in them. Smiles are plentiful and free, not a forerunner to a demand for rupees. The streets are not paved with rubbish. People seem more relaxed.
The road to Chitwan is calm with little traffic. Horns are only used when necessary. Beyond the green fields we can see mountains in the distance. As we pass through the villages, there is a mix of housing from traditional clay houses with their thatch roofs to modern 3 storey villas that would not look out of place on the Mediterranean. Many have small gardens with vegetables and flowers growing. Animals are tethered close by and most have free range chickens and geese roaming around. In every village there appears to be a fantastic, huge swing (constructed from 10m high bamboo poles with a long rope) with children playing on it. Our new bus continues to bounce along the road.
Driving along the mountain valley, little huts and homes are perched precariously on the slopes. Paddy field terraces and smallholdings are evident on both sides of the fast flowing river but there are no access roads. Every few miles, we notice a small platform on either side with a couple of cables. Between the cables another platform is suspended and people can cross the river using a pulley system.
Entering Chitwan National Park, we move to another era and landscape. Our accommodation is a collection of wooden huts on stilts, shaded by trees. It is hot and humid and the rooms are damp. Even the bedding is damp. But it is totally charming and so peaceful..
In the evening we take a brief wander round the village, where they still live in traditional clay houses with thatched roofs. Our guide shows us round a typical family home. It is cool and dark, and swept clean. The only evidence of modern living are the electric cable which is suspended across the roof from room to room and the television in the one of the living/bed rooms.
After this we are taken to the elephant breeding centre. Here, 6 female elephants are tethered by chains to their feet under shelters, but otherwise, do not appear to be maltreated. We hand feed bananas to the baby and watch as 2 females strain their tethers to touch trunks as though they are conforting each other.
As sunset approaches we head towards the river. We walk down a path where there are more elephant shelters with 4 big bull elephants, still with long horns, even though they have been sawn to half length. We are warned not to approach them as they can be aggressive but inevitably some want their photo taken. It's fortunate that Jamie is millimetres out of reach as she fails to spot the massive trunk trying to swipe her from behind as a friend takes her photo. Down at the river, there are 2 rhinos submerged in the water less than 10metres away from us. They remain calm as we approach the river bank above them. As I sit down on the bank to watch the rhinos and the sunset, it is impossible not to feel so incredibly privileged to be in such a location.
We have been promised entertainment for the evening after dinner and we are not disappointed. The young village men skip and swirl around, clapping their sticks together to fight off the tigers, sloth bears and rhinos and celebrate the harvest. Morris dancing made macho in a Nepali stylee. For the grand finale, we have whirling dervishes and then the women are invited to join in. I am pulled into the centre and as I try to keep up with the fit young man in front of me swinging his hips and gyrating, I am at least one beat behind. Bruce Forsyth's Generation Game comes to mind. I think I'm about to be eliminated.
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