The pilot turned around, and we moved to the other side of the plane for another glimpse.
I went to Chitwan to look for tigers with, unexpectedly, my mum (and her friend). We didn’t see any tigers, but we did find a rhinoceros making its way into a hotel. That was pretty wild. Well, not really wild, but as we didn’t actually see that many rhinos in Wild Proper, this was a pretty decent alternative.
The safari cost £11 per half-day, 10 of us comfortably inside an open-air jeep. Permits for the national park were another £11 per day.
We saw a tiger’s footprint on the ground and claw marks on a tree to show that yes, he has been here and he wants you to know that he’ll be back and he would **** you up if you trespassed. We trespassed, anyway, with a car that’s bigger than a tiger.
Our safari guide (mandatory) told us that he was born inside the national park, and isn’t afraid to walk the forest alone. I didn’t see the tiger’s footprint or claw marks when it was first pointed out to me, so I guess I don’t stand a chance here by myself.
A few years ago, the government relocated every village outside of the park; so, no one lives inside anymore, barring some daredevil tourists who want to camp amongst the tigers for half a week at a time. I wonder if the other guides are also OK with having tigers around them, whilst naked, vulnerable.
Life seems hard here; people are nice even so. I respect that deeply. We didn’t get scammed, and only the taxi drivers tried.
After the safari, we were the only ones who tipped.
That night, I found out on my hospital app that I’d fractured my left knee, and needed blood thinners pretty soon. In this small town? My choices were: blood pressure medication, or aspirin. Wash it down with some omeprazole to protect the stomach lining. I imagined an opioid addict figuring out their tablets, and no one around them actually knowing what they should be doing.
It was nice to be popular for a week. An older man who looked like he had had a broken leg for 20 years asked me if I was okay.
Rooms are cheap, and the manager of our budget hotel and every single FOH staff would come to say hi every morning. Sometimes people respond with their day, and then not bother to ask the same questions in return. This must be what it feels like to be an 18-year old Australian taking their gap year in Bali and Phuket, your stereotypical rich westerner who develops a sudden god complex when they discover the power of currency.
We went to a lodge in the mountains to try to see the Annapurna range, but I can’t make out if the grey outline out front is a hill, or a 7000 metre tall behemoth. It’s currently forest fire season, which means that the mountains are not distracting us from real life here.
Did I feel guilty coming into the country completely unprepared, carrying a splintered body that constantly needed attention, knowing so little about this place that I didn’t even know what their language is called?
I suppose I should. And now I don’t want to leave. I’m sure I haven’t left a single positive mark here, but maybe I’ll claw at a tree to show that this place is mine, and that I’ll be back.
Last Modified 8 November, 2025
