“Not all those who wander are lost.”
The bus is tilting precariously, again, and the boy who has been hanging out of the door jumps out to place a large rock behind the back wheel to prevent us from slipping any farther back. The driver restarts the engine and with a lurch we are off. The boy is running alongside the bus while holding onto the handle, we are moving so slowly it isn’t hard for him to jump in and out as he pleases. I am headed up and over the foothills in rural western Nepal on a “road” where only one bus passes daily. Besides that, the path is used by villagers herding their goats or cows and by the occasional daring motorcycle. Though it can’t be more than thirty kilometers to the top, it is nearly a three hour treacherous journey.