this post concerns the second leg of this bus trip:
if you want the very beginning of the story, that would be here. or you could just go back a few steps and figure it out, which would take you here. ok then.
the wait was so long that i cannot actually recall the moment when the bus arrived, just that sofia and stawek rushed from our sides and climbed aboard. i was just beginning to think that they had been desperate to get rid of us after all, when i climbed on after my mom and realized that they had saved us seats at the very back. we got on just in time to see them tell a girl that those seats were taken.
we sat ourselves down on some really inadequate vinyl seats and waited to pay the 11 hryvna (about $1.37) each for what we were told was to be an hour ride. i was just so happy to be sitting, and on our way again, that i didn’t mind that i already felt like i was going to slide off the seats before the bus even started moving.
purse full of toilet paper.
soon the money was collected and we were on our way. i resumed my earlier activity: voraciously soaking up every element of scenery i could. it was harder this time, as i was sitting in the middle of the back seat. swiveling my head to glimpse traces through dirty windows didn’t work so well, especially when i tried to turn all the way around and look out the back, and really almost slid off the seat the next time the bus jostled. so instead i focused on the woman across from me, who was obviously returning from a day of shopping in the bigger town. between her feet was a pleather purse stuffed full of toilet paper, sitting next to over-flowing reused shopping bags. she held onto the handles with a mysteriously-injured finger, wrapped in an improvised fashion with tissue or toilet paper held in place with a rubber band. i became aware of just how many churches there were in that part of ukraine, as she crossed herself every time we passed one.
five or six times in the twenty minutes she was on the bus.
things start to clear out a little.
luckily our ride was not as packed as the one we had refused to get on, but there were some people standing. these thinned out somewhat quickly, though, as the bus stopped at what appeared to be randomly-determined spots on the road. we climbed hills and turned corners and passed through villages and through fields. the world outside continued to fascinate me, as did the people getting on and off the bus. the woman across from us collected her goods and toilet paper and left, exposing a coil of cable under where she had been sitting, which kept us occupied for some time, as mom and i tried to guess the purpose of it.
should this be holding something together?
an hour passed, and more people got on and off. we chatted very little with our angels, only when we passed an orthodox church and stawek showed his interest, or, later in the ride, when the driver seemed to lose all ability to stay off the shoulder, or to keep all four wheels on the road.
i have never been more certain that the vehicle i was in was going to tip over, and i used to live with a motorcycle racer who drove cars as if he was trying to get his knee down. one particularly bad right turn left us staring at each other in wonder that the bus was continuing to go forward and was not, as we surely thought it would be, lying on its side in a ditch.
the view out the filthy back window.
this was about the time that i realized that we were over an hour out and there seemed to be no sign of civilization approaching. in fact, the villages had thinned, and the stops were farther apart, just as the driver’s recklessness grew.
every corner seemed to present our imminent deaths as wheels left the ground and the bus skidded sideways, sliding over dust and gravel, the potholes actually saving our lives by catching the tires and setting us right again.
and then , at the height of our distress, the town came on us out of nowhere – suddenly there were houses and businesses where fields had held sway. with the advent of civilization came the advent of traffic, and we found ourselves slowing as we approached a traffic hub that was much bigger than the one in mostys’ka where we had just spent so much of our lives. we started gathering our things, making sure not to transfer the thick layers of dust and dirt that our bags had picked up on the floor of the bus onto our clothing – i usually don’t care, but i was already filthy and i only had the one pair of pants. if we were really going to meet family, or try to get information from strangers at least, i had to look slightly less like a scumbag.
still on the bus.
the bus pulled into a busy circular street with a thriving outdoor market in the middle, and we shifted and sighed and waited for the bus to stop. fortunately, or unfortunately, when it did, sofia turned to us and said, “not here,” and i silently thanked the world that she was there to guide us. this was the center of town, but it was not where the transfer buses stopped. if she had not been there, we probably would have gotten off at the wrong stop. but an hour and a half into this, the second and most inconvenient of our bus journeys, i was ready to get off.
Clearly the cables beneath the slick vinyl seats are there to secure kulaks who were being driven to prison.