The bus trip alone
should've set the tone for the trip. Eight o'clock in the morning. Park station. Zero hours of sleep on the last 20-something odd hours.A thuggish looking man keeps shouting random obscenities at people he believes to be blocking his doorway. This was to be our bus driver. We 'check' our bags in. Everyone else has a cute overnight leather tote-bag. I, of course,am carrying a ridiculously large bag filled to the top with clothes I'll never need to wear. Note to self: never pack drunk. Four pairs of leggings, two panties, six vests, one
tshirt,a pair of heels-no bra.
The bus was meant to leave at eight, but C
ity-to-C
ity offers their own alternative to duty-free shopping. For an hour we were harangued by onboard salesmen offering everything from R2 packs of gum to sunglasses and harmonicas.I bought one. The bus wasn't too clean, nor did it smell like flowers. It seems everyone had bypassed their morning showers to make for a bus that would only leave an hour later.
The bus starts moving. We're all a little relieved that its even started,given that the gear stick was held in place by sellotape, and there were about a dozen holes in the dashboard that at some point in time were buttons.
Nelspruit is three hours away. Our bus took seven.
No comments:
Post a Comment