Things change when you travel by motorcycle
I was hungry, tired, and my bum was sore from riding all the way from the India, Nepal border. I was on my way to Kathmandu.
I stopped in a small town, and asked the first person I saw where I could eat using hand jestures and what seemed to be a faily internationally understood word "restarant, restarant".
The man got on my motorcycle, and started pointing, indicating I should drive that way. Now, I wasn't in the best mood, and didn't want to go to some guy's restuarant, I wanted to go . . . well I didn't know, but I hadn't eaten all day.
Anyways, I obliged him, and to my surprise and delight. It was his house. As it turns out, he hadn't a clue what I wanted, but he thought he'd bring me home to talk to his brother who knew a little English.
I stayed with the Gurung family for about three weeks in total. They even stored my motorcycle, while I went hiking. When I was travelling without my motorcycle I met almost no local people. This was the third family I stayed with since I got on the motorcycle. For the two months I had my Enfield 350 my trip was completely different than it was on the trains and bus.
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