perils of public transport

Luxury. We are about to catch the luxury bus, saying goodbye to Chaouen and heading to a Moroccan city, the Fes frenzy is the next stop. With a good night sleep behind us we are ready to stay awake the whole six hours and check out the scenery of another country. A country already so foreign to us. As we walked down the hill of the mountain town, passing Café Come Back and a little donkey, we pat ourselves on the back for catching the local bus on the way here. Now we are lashing out an extra four euro and catching the luxury liner. It pulls up in the bus stop looking rather impressive compared to the school bus that we had caught before. It's also looking pretty full. Yep, it is. We struggle to find to aisle seats opposite one another and none of the locals seems to impressed to be sharing. The motor cranks up and it puts up the hill constantly honking the horn through the streets jammed with people. But then the luxury really begins, our extra four euros have paid for a delightful addition. The stench of fresh vomit. I cover my face with my shawl for the first 10 minutes, but it is just delaying the inevitable. Instead I concentrate on light breathing through my nose, hoping those little nose hairs will filter out some of the smell.

It's going to be a long trip. Claire is listening to her iPod. I'm secretly smacking myself in the head for being such a scatter-brain and losing my iPod within three days of arriving in Europe. So when Claire reaches across the aisle to show me the music she is listening to, I put the earphone in for a second and remark, "sounds like some crap Russian pop to me", I decide the vomit and lack of fresh air has momentarily turned me into a spiteful little cow. She takes back her music and I continue to concentrate on my light nostril breathing and daydreams. It keeps me occupied until the roadside stop where fresh meat hangs whole with a little barbecue next by and cuts of meat are prepared and cooked while you wait. I really think we need some of these in Australia. Business was cranking! I opted to fill up on fresh air, a wise choice I think. A few hours later and we are in Fes…eating off little street stalls soup, tagine and the best hot potato chips. We also indulged in a little luxury…An actual hotel and like giggling teenagers ordered beer and chips from room service and sat up watching movies all night. So it took a stinky, cramped, painful bus ride but the luxury arrived after all.