Sanjog

Things change slowly but happen fast around here. Yesterday Shivendra arrived from Kathmandu and got me updated on what is happening. The aircraft should be at the border by the 8th, and Shivendra will personally make sure they go through. CAAN is coming to Bharatpur to give the written test sometime after the Nepali New Year (April 13th). The students are skeptical.

About a month ago I decided to buy a bicycle. We have a truck that will come and pick me up at the house, but it is also used to pick up everyone else. I can't come and go when I need. We have a motorcycle, but it is heavy for me, and in this traffic, I feel I am putting my life in my hands when I ride it. A bicycle goes at a sane pace, can maneuver around obstacles, and is good exercise.

"Who is the best negotiator," I asked. Whenever I buy something here, everyone asks how much I paid. No matter what I say, they tell me I paid too much and that a local could get it much cheaper. So I decided to ask one of the students to help me.

Sanjog seemed to be the best candidate. "He negotiates everything," someone said. "I hate to go shopping with him," said another, "because he argues every price."

Normally keeping to himself, I had not seen that side of him, but I trusted what the other students said. So Sanjog and I took the truck and driver (Prakesh) around to every bicycle shop in town.

"These bikes are too cheap," Sanjog would tell me. "They want too much money. They won't negotiate," he would say at another shop.

We came to one shop with several bikes out front and Sanjog went inside to talk to the owner. After five minutes of intense discussion, he came out and pointed at a pink bicycle. "Do you like that one?"

I cringed. Pink is definitely not my color. I pointed to a large forest green one. "No," said Sanjog. "That is a man's bike. You would not like that one." OK, I thought. I pointed to a black bicycle decorated with orange flames.

Sanjog went back into the shop and talked to the owner some more. Another five minutes later he came out and said, "Let's go." We walked away, not looking back. I asked what happened. "Wait," was all he said.

We walked to another bike shop, and he talked to the owner there. After about 15 minutes he came out and signaled for me to follow him. We walked back to the first bike shop. The owner was ready to deal.

Within minutes, pedals were put onto the black bike. A bell was added (required in Nepal), and the seat was lowered. "No," I said. "Leave the seat high." "No," said Sanjog, "you must ride with the seat down."

Nepalis ride their bike sitting up straight, with the seat low enough that they can touch the ground while sitting. I am used to the American style, where seat height can give you leverage for pedaling, and you lean the bike over when you stop.

Sanjog said to me, "3800 rupees." "Is that good?" I asked. "Yes. Down from 4500."

I gave Sanjog the money, and he handed it to the owner. Prakesh loaded the bike in the back of the truck, and we drove home.

It's good to have wheels.