Kathmandu, the sixty-eighth day

I had, indeed, a miracle achieved by getting my entire luggage in three bags, but a new miracle was needed to carry them. The size and weight of all those unnecessary purchases are incredible. The problem lies in the superfluous. Does "Le CLAC" really need all the efforts that require its supporting sale? I am compelled to send part of the "support fund" by the Post with the dilemma of quadrupling the cost per plane, or simply double it by boat, not being sure of getting it on my return back home.

In my train to Calcutta, I can finally recover from the little too violent shock returning to Indian daily life. After missing the train that had supposedly been reserved, I could finally leave after paying few bribes.
A "Second Class Sleeper" is a sort of cattle truck with platforms all around which serve as beds. The classic double-compartment has two times three bunks, with the middle one cleverly used as a back to the lower bench, when put down, during the day trip. I exchanged my berth N° 13 in the middle against the N° 11 above, much quieter. We may also prefer to be beautiful and rich than ugly and poor.
The windows of Indian trains have bars. It was like being in a prison that I could witness the supernatural of this sunset. After the mountainous and cloudy landscape of the Himalayas, the sky seemed too bright and too flat plain. The depth of the infinite horizon, the shades of orange extension beyond the normal surprised me by their unreality. I leaned out the window and the Indian leaned too, trying to see the landscape so interesting that was mine, but they could not see the same palm trees, the same rice fields and the same colors as seen in "Apocalypse Now" which recalled my memory.