Plane, helicopter, bus booked
The cockerels started at 2.00 this morning - if they were ours they'd be soup by now. We heard this evening that they're bred and raised for fighting.
We had a breakfast meeting on the roof with Lalchungnunga to plan our next moves. I think he quite enjoyed all the multiple phone calls to contacts from his time in government; it was sort of phoning the transport minister to ask about buses, plus his niece seems to have many more contacts so she was queried many times too.
Once we'd examined many options we set out to get things booked, starting with the easiest, leaving Mizoram by plane in a few weeks. We looked at other options to Guwahati, basically bus (19 hours), Sumo (shared jeep / taxi - 18 hours), or bus followed by three trains (30 hours) and decided to fly (45 minutes to the airport, 80 minute flight) because we're old and don't need to save the £10 or so each. We did have a choice of flight - I selected the propeller over the jet just to try a different airline.
Next task was to book a bus to Champhai for Thursday. This time our options were helicopter, Sumo or bus and we opted for bus (about seven hours) because it's far cheaper than helicopter and, though slower than Sumo, we have proper seats booked. The last time we booked a Sumo was on our first trip to India and we accepted advice to book four seats - this meant we were sat next to the driver instead of the usual four people next to him. Booking was by phone, slightly challenging due to call quality and language barrier, but I think we're sorted for Thursday morning departure.
Feeling pretty successful, we set off to the Civil Aviation office to book helicopter tickets to Siaha (about 14 hours by bus).
Thanks to the general accuracy and terrible precision of Google maps we walked almost two miles in the right direction but the actual destination was impossible to reach. Retracing our steps to a parked car with a Civil Aviation badge displayed we tried an office block and roamed around until a sign next to a serving hatch announced we'd found the right place. Our planned day was fully booked but we were booked for a day earlier when, according to the timetable, flights don't go there. Ah well. We have tickets.
From there to the tourist office proved Google Maps less useful; if we'd not stopped for a chat with an Enfield rider who turned us back on our route we'd never have found it. Jen managed to find a few maps while I spoke with the deputy director of tourism, who seems a little confused by why we were there. Tourism really isn't big here! She was lovely with us, though, gave a few ideas and asked that we call her for any advice or help any time.
Heading back to the hotel by a terrible taxi just reminded me of one of my dad's favourite sayings, "A third class ride is better than a first class walk". That also reminded me of the snippets he gave away about his wartime service around this area - India and Burma. This would not be easy ground to be marching around; or even driving tanks around as he did.
Evening meal with Chungnunga and Hliri was as wonderful as ever - fish pie followed by banana cake and local satsumas. They're off to a "bride's price" tomorrow - bride's family give the equivalent of £4 to the groom's side, who then distribute 50 rupees each to all their extended family.
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