A bus ride in Sri Lanka.
Ahhh the feeling of packing into a hot, stuffy, crowded bus, bouncing up and down on the unpaved road hitting potholes every five seconds. That slight breeze coming in through the window is nearly impossible to feel as I stand in the center aisle of the bus grasping onto the ceiling handlebar for my dear life.
I manage a glimpse out of the front window and notice the road is barely as wide as the bus, yet two-way traffic somehow manages to flow. I look out the broken left window to see a steep rock wall with partial netting up, where surely boulders fall onto the road. Oh wait, the driver is dodging one right now, steering the bus even closer to the edge of the road which diverts my attention to look out the right window. A steep cliff drops off, at least a few hundred feet above the trees. No guardrail. All while the driver travels at a comfortable 50 km per hour.
My grasp on the ceiling handlebar manages to tighten harder than I thought was possible despite the sweat dripping off my fist, forehead, and down the back of my neck, and oh look, there are even lines of sweat running down my legs. Gross? Yes, but it’s fine, I only have 5 hours left until my destination and I heard rumors that the bus should thin out in about an hour.
The man collecting the bus fare squeezes his way to me. “50,” says the man. “No, the sign says 30,” I say. “50,” he says. I know I’m being charged more than the actual fare price but I reach for my wallet anyways. Oops, I just elbowed a woman in the ear, “I’m so sorry” I say. She stares back at me blankly. I realize I only have 100 and the man says he’ll be back with change but I really don’t care anymore at this point. I’m still only paying $3 for the 5-hour local bus ride, as opposed to the $10 express bus that would’ve taken 2 hours and provided a proper seat.
Then the bus comes to a jolting stop and my grip on that handlebar wasn’t enough to support all of my weight so I accidentally bump into the family standing a foot shorter than me. At this point, I’m thirsty and starving. A child squeezes through the aisle selling oranges but I realize I gave the busman my last 100 and I don’t have any small change left to buy the oranges. So I stand, stuck. I hear a strange sound over my left shoulder, so I turn. I bump into a man standing up from his aisle seat while noticing that another man just boarded the bus holding four chickens and one is now pecking at my backpack strap.
After the first hour out of the city, I manage to find a seat thinking the next few hours should fly by. I put in my headphones and attempt to take a nap however, I don’t want to miss the views. I check my maps and notice I’m still a ways from the scenic part of the journey but if the bus is on time I should arrive just before sunset.
A couple of hours later the temperature in the bus begins to cool off as we make our way into the mountains. It’s only me and six others remaining on the bus. The bus driver stops at a market stand for a dinner break. “Twenty minutes,” the driver says. I manage to find a pit toilet but of course, I don’t have any toilet paper for the shit I’ve been holding in for the past two hours. So, I hold it for longer because there’s no bum gun and I’m not sure how clean the bucket of water to wash with came from.
I do manage to find a little snack and figure I’ll wait the final two hours to have dinner at my destination. I re-board the bus.
About an hour later I hear the bus making some abnormally strange sounds. The bus driver pulls off to the side. I’m slightly confused and at this point, it’s only me, a woman, a child, and the bus driver. No one speaks English, and of course, I don’t know the local language.
A few fellow truck drivers stop and look at our bus. After an hour and fifteen-minute wait, it miraculously decides to start. The driver takes his time finishing his cigarette before continuing on. At this point I know I’ll be arriving in the dark and of course, I’m heading to a rural destination “off the beaten path” of most travelers.
We pull up to the little bus stand, just a bench on the side of the road. I ask the driver to get my bag out from the back of the bus which is now covered in dirt and some other dusty, black powder. I look at my offline map to see how close my hostel is. 2 km. Ok, it’s fine, at least I’m done with that horrible bus ride.
It’s dark as I find my way through the empty gravel streets between brightly painted buildings. I stop at a corner shop and ask if I’m heading in the right direction. “Yes. Up.” the woman replies. Oh, wonderful, I’m thinking as I realize that the reason why my hostel has such a great view of the nearby lake is that it sits high up in this mountain town. From the time I get off the bus, it takes about an hour of exhausting uphill stairs and hills with my 30-pound backpack rubbing uncomfortably on my sunburnt shoulders, before I make it to my hostel.
It’s about 7:30 pm and I finally arrive huffing and puffing. It’s dark out, and I’m covered in sweat, dirt, and sunblock but I’m greeted by the cutest little old woman. She walks me further into the common area where her family is excited to host me. I look around and see other travelers having beers, a couple well maintained stray dogs, and a menu for food. Before anything, I ask for that toilet I’ve been waiting for. Then I immediately order the largest meal on the menu and a large local beer.
Ahhhh, finally I can relax. The moonlight is reflecting beautifully on the lake lighting up the surrounding mountains just enough. I vibe well with some of the other travelers and I’m enjoying a nice conversation with the local hosts planning activities for the next few days. Tomorrow the father is taking those interested on a hike up the nearby mountain to the “best viewpoint around the lake” at sunrise and in the evening the mother will lead a cooking class.
Despite the exhaustion from the previous travel day, I woke up at 4 am to hike up for sunrise. It’s another steep climb in the dark, through the brisk morning temperatures. The sun begins to pop up. The view of this lake is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen. This is why I travel. This is the moment I was waiting for. That horrible bus ride just fades into a funny memory as I watch the sunrise over the lake. There are only a few people up there. As far as I can see, I don’t see a single building or human-made structure. It’s just the lush green forest with the sun reflecting in the pristine lake. Once again I remember, this is why I travel.
