The people on the bus go... (1 October)

The experience of public transport never ceases to amaze. I love the adventure. The local emersion. The cultural exposure.

No Greyhounds. No double deckers. Rather extended vans or maybe a mini bus. Anything larger finds the curvaceous roads a slow challenge. No on board toilets, but will stop for passengers to sneak off into the roadside bushes for a bladder release.

They come and go at will. No schedule. No plan. Operating on Indonesian Time.

They’re colorful. Eclectic. In every sense…

Chickens hang bundled by their feet, strapped to the sides of the bus.
Feathers blow in through the open windows.
Smoke curls through the sunlight and is visually carried out the windows.
Bus or deathtrap? Bird flu and lung cancer.
Goats hoisted and tied to the roof.
Boxes, vegetables, sacks, and living animals are stuffed under every inch of foot space.
The passengers shout instructions to the driver as if he’s their personal chauffer.
Women spit vibrant red (from chewing betel nut).
Plastic bags thumb tacked to the roof… accessible for those (they will surely be numerous) that will shortly succumb to the motion-sickness induced by the combination of weaving road and swerving vehicle.
Squeezed three or four person to a seat intended for two… when the bus is full it’s open seating on the roof.
Music deafening, the same mixed tape repeated over and over and over.
The driver keeps a cigarette in one hand and cell phone in the other… The later on speaker as he vainly attempts to shout above the on-board ruckus.
A rosary dangles from the rearview mirror.
A cross decorates the dash.
Teddy bears and stuffed bundles of fluff strung across the windows.... Suction cupped in place.
“Jesus My Love” “No Woman No Cry” “Britnay Speres” “Jonh Trovolta” (actual spellings) painted on the windows, leaving little room for viewing the road.
The ‘bus boys’ hang out the door shouting the destination.
They scamper to help load the next rider… likely a local wrapped up a sarong standing along the side of the road holding his (or her) goat and a handful of chickens.

Wanting to get somewhere fast? Best call in your personal helicopter. Fast travel just doesn’t happen. A two hour bus journey… that’s dreaming. Stretch it into 4.5 hours. Don’t breath in too deep and best to avoid large meals prior.