“No! That’s French! In English it’s Julian. I needed a confidence boost and traveling companions help. I for one was relieved somebody else needed to get on the same bus to the same destination. Three lonely backpackers just could not ignore each other for long. We met at a lonely bus stop in Udawalewa, where we waited almost an hour for a bus to Wellawaya, before having to change bus to Ella. Their sweaty shoulders meet mine.īehind me is Julien the German and behind him is his girlfriend Annie. Immediately in front is an old woman with her oversized bag, conveniently pressed against my groin.īeside her and next to me are two Sinhalese men. My hands are holding on to the above railing, and to my dear life. Inside the hot long metal tube vehicle, I am leaning painfully against the metal side of a seat. Trees, houses, dogs, lamppost and gods rush by and blur outside. It looks like an old Tata bus that reigned terror in the streets of Kuala Lumpur in the 1980s. Imagine a bus so packed of people cruising almost impossibly at 70-80-90km/h. Imagine a bus without air-conditioning zooming across the tropical central Sri Lanka, manufactured probably in the 1980s, somehow surviving almost four decades of abuse by driving maniacs.Ĭlose your eyes.
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