Nuns to My Left, Buddha to My Right

The only thing that outshone the bright blue exterior of the non-AC bus (or local bus as it is also known) was the interior. As I boarded my eyes were met by a large white statue of Buddha perched behind the drivers seat. Above hung a mobile disco of lights flashing, red, blue, green, orange and pink and a small TV playing Bollywood videos on a loop. Two gigantic speakers either side boomed out the soundtrack to what would later feel like the last journey I might ever take.

I had no idea where to catch the AC bus (or tourist bus), but then I didn’t want a tourist experience, I wanted a traveller experience, I thought, as I peeled my sticky thighs one by one off the plastic seat; wishing I’d gone to to toilet before boarding.

Just as I was beginning to feel nervous a group of nuns in full white tunics and matching coifs took their seats opposite me. That’s got to be a good omen I thought, giddily buying oranges, slices of guava and dried nuts from the men who walked the aisles selling their wares.

As we began to move, the reason for the onboard audio party became painfully apparent. This bus wasn’t stopping for anyone. Instead it’s powerful horn screeched at anything that dared get in the way (Tip: Always carry earplugs).

The bus was driven by 3 men. One at the wheel, one navigating by his side, presumably with a better view of the left-hand side of the road than the driver. And a third, who's job it was to jump off the bus, clear the road of pedestrians and other nuisances and guide the bus as it took corners far to small for it’s width.

As we hurtled round hairpin bends into oncoming traffic, my impending death was usurped only by the urgency with which my bladder needed to be emptied. With two hours still to go until our first and only comfort stop, I took an empty bottle and lodged it between my legs; just in case. Relaxing enough to fill it was impossible, as riding the bus had become more like riding in a rodeo and my butt cheeks were getting a work out just staying the seat.

Yet as I sat there, empty pee-less bottle lodged between my legs, a smile spread across my entire face and a feeling of peace descended over me. I love travelling, I thought. I’m in love with this tangible feeling of moving physically through time and space. In that moment I stopped worrying whether we'd make it to Tangalle, or to a toilet any time soon, as I recalled the phrase ’it's the journey, not the destination’.