The Bus Ride

August 1-4 1971

Sometimes at the beach I look down and see a frenzied sand ant bumping around my hairy shin.

That was me backpacking Europe in 1971 bumping into a smorgasbord of history, culture, religion and entertaining people.

In mid July I hitchhiked into Istanbul and stayed just long enough to see the major sites; Hagia Sophia Museum, Blue Mosque, Topkapi Palace. The big souk. That's how I rolled. I came. I saw. I left.

In Athens I was in and out in three hours. My hitchhiked ride dropped me at the Acropolis which I surveyed with a keen eye for old things and then was on the road again before sundown.

Overnite in Istanbul I joined seven other  vagabonds in a youth hostel sharing four rickety bunk beds. Bathroom down the hall. Better than sleeping rough, as I had done the night before. Not as good as a night at the Hilton, which I could afford, but I'd have to go home the next day.

I decided on my next destination when I saw a flyer stapled to a wall advertising a 3 day bus to Tehran for $17.

The bus left dark and early. It had been modern in 1955 and sat forty uncomfortably. There were a few fellow vagabonds and some genuine western travelers but most riders were Turkish or Iranian men travelling between work in one city and family in the other.

I made friends with the local men. I was interested in them, their lives and thoughts and they liked to practice english on me. I knew some of the vagabonds from the road. The genuine travellers were uninteresting except for one.

For the first two days and nights we stopped only for fast meals and short visits in small cities on the way

On the afternoon of the third day I met Anne, the lone interesting person among the genuine travellers. We decided to sit together. We occupied the fourth row on the left side of the bus.

 We hit it off. My practice asking questions of the locals about their thoughts and feelings prepared me to make my time with Anne enjoyable for her.

Anne was English, about my age, a biology graduate student on her way to stay with a school friend in Tehran.

At around three in the morning we were sharing a kiss.

Then suddenly our aspirational moment went south. Anne felt nauseous.

I got the driver to pull off quickly.

Anne raced off the bus followed by me and some of the local travelers.

Anne threw up twice before regaining her equilibrium.

While I tried to be helpful some of the locals were less than. They saw humour in the situation and thru their gestures, like blowing me kisses, revealed that they had been eavesdropping on Anne and I and thought her illness was caused by me.

The rest of the trip was uneventful. As we parted Anne and I agreed we'd grab a coffee. She gave me her number.

But our relationship was doomed. Tehran had a third world telephone system. I could dial her number from a public phone but couldn't get any more than static on the line.

I quickly saw the sites in Tehran and was off towards Afghanistan at my usual warp speed.

April 9, 2019