On a bus, between a cliff and a hard place: Lamabagar to Charikot
Riding on the bus was its own form of rollercoaster. As busses or cars met, one or both would need to veer off of the one-lane strip of concrete that was the roadway. As a rider, the continuous swerving and stopping upset my brain as much as my gut. Passing vehicles meant edging between a bus and a sheer cliff. I thought for sure that this was where my writing would stop. In some spaces, the road was so tight, that busses had to come to a full stop, and back up. To do so in a standard was difficult enough, but to do so in a large bus, jammed with people and things, along the side of a cliff seemed nearly impossible. When busses did finally get to a wide enough section, they passed at a speed familiar only to snails. During our trip from Lamabagar to Charikot, there were times when the bus would shift its weight from one side to the other, resulting in small exhales of terror from the interior of the bus. Perhaps it was when we sat in the front that the terror crept in the most. The driver was cracking jokes while I was clinging onto his seat, cracking with nerves.