The Surrender Project: Day 14: Bus Lessons

The longest bus ride of my life continued into today and took up most of the day. I woke up at around 3:00 am, which is about two hours after I fell asleep in the first place. The next few hours were back in that weird in-between state I have mentioned a few times in my blogs. Walking the fine line between sleep and consciousness, almost existing in a dream like state without real groundings to the physical world. As I have also mentioned, I like this state. It feels mysterious and mystical in a sense, not really sure if I am dreaming or not. Although I enjoy this state, if often leaves me feeling a bit out of it, probably because the quality of sleep isn’t there and I am just flat out tired. Well, we stop for a rest around 9:00 am and I get out to stretch my body and use the bathroom. Some of the restrooms in these random villages far from any major city are not the classic restrooms you have come to know so well in rest stops in the United States. These are what I will call a “minimalist” experience. I want to make a few notes about where my mind was before I describe the bathroom. I think I was feeling a bit out of it, I was tired from the lack of sleep, feeling a bit lonely and isolated. Maybe because every time we stop I am getting watched as I eat or every step I take. It feels isolating to be watched like this, and then have people obviously talking about me and laughing, or seeing people tap their friends on their shoulder who then all turn around and watch me, maybe laughing or making comments. I have no idea what these comments are, I have no idea who or what they see, or where their minds go when they see a tall sleepy white dude on the cheapest form of transportation. Even though they are laughing I do not want to assume it is at me, maybe just a surprise for seeing me or some other joke. Multiple times I have been asked by locals why am I on the bus? Why am I not flying? It is cheap to fly, why do it this way? I do not really know, I guess it is cheaper to take a bus, but a difference of maybe $30 for a 25 hour bus ride vs a one and a half hour flight seems quite negligible to somebody in my position. This is where my mind was going on this sleep-deprived morning, analyzing myself and the situation I was in from others views given the attention I was getting. Overall, not the most fun place to be in mentally and just not the coziest feeling. I guess part of me was desiring something comfortable to grab onto, some type of warmth or respite from the dirty bus and the attention. I explain this to give you an idea of where I was mentally going into the bathroom. Back to the “minimalist” bathroom, and I go into a stall. A stall has a few basic things that allow you to go about your business. First, there is a squat toilet, basically a ceramic bowl built into the ground where you squat to go. If you have been to any Asian country I am sure you have seen these, and normally I am quite happy with using these. The second item in this bathroom was a bucket of water. And that is the extent of the items at your disposal. No toilet paper, no bidet, nothing but a bucket of water, a hole, and your hands. At this point I just wasn’t feeling it, and decided I would just wait. For full transparency, I have used this type of “minimalist” toilet a handful of times, it just is what it is. I head back to the bus and grab my toothbrush, thinking maybe clean teeth will help me feel a bit better overall. I wasn’t feeling bad by the way, it was just a pretty meh state of existing at this point. We get back on the bus after maybe 15 minutes. I wasn’t really hungry so didn’t get any food, but did buy a pack of maybe 30 peanuts in case I wanted to snack on something.

We drive for about 45 minutes and stop again, but nobody is getting off besides the driver and two other workers. I poke my head up and look out the window. One of the guys sees me and waves me to come get some chai. I shrug and think why not, and head out to get the warm drink. The only other people who are getting off are two other guys who pee behind the building, as there is no restroom here. I only note this because my urge to use the restroom is growing, but not much I can do about that now. I am the last to get the tea, and as I am sipping it everybody walks back to the bus and the driver calls out to me. I walk back with my tea and as soon as my foot is on the first step the bus lurches forward. I just stand on the stairs and finish my tea. As I finish my caffeinated beverage I turn around to see one of the assistants handing me a rolled up leaf that he just lit. I tell him no, that I do not smoke. He isn’t really taking no as an answer, and keeps pushing it into my hand. Eventually I just grab it, unsure if it is tobacco or weed, or some other plant they smoke here. I again shake my head and tell him no, I do not smoke. But he shakes his head back and hits his own rolled leaf, giving me the face of, “come on dude, don’t be rude to me, I just gave you that!” I smell his smoke in the air and am quite confident it is just tobacco, so without being rude I take a few puffs. These things are quite small, and you probably only get maybe 5 hits out of it anyway, so I thought whatever, I will smoke a hand rolled leaf cigarette with the bus driver and his assistants while standing on the stairs of a bus. The thought pops into my mind of how this is a unique experience, so might as well just enjoy it. As I take the last hit of the cigarette and throw it away, he is handing me another one, again I shake my head but he insists, so I take it and try to hand it off to the other guy who shakes his head and lights his own. What the fuck, why are the feeding me these little leaf cigarettes. Mom, Dad, I apologize about this, I normally am not smoking cigarettes with bus drivers in the countryside of India. Anyway, at this point a woman comes through the door separating the driving compartment from the back, and looks quite ill, so I have to move so she can throw up out the door. I squeeze past the other guys to head back to my sleeper, but they instead make room for me to sit sorta behind the driver in their little compartment. I half hit my second cigarette, half just let it burn out. The wave of a nicotine buzz hits me pretty hard, and makes me feel incredibly nauseous. I didn’t mention earlier, but since last night I have had quite a gnarly headache, something I rarely get and is my absolute kryptonite. Part of the reason I didn’t get food this morning. Anyway, what happens when you mix a headache with caffeine and two cigarettes on an empty stomach? A not-so-comfortable feeling. Meanwhile I am feeling really bad for the woman who is throwing up out the door, but not wanting to join her anytime soon I say thank you and insist I go back to my sleeper cabin. I lay down and try to breathe a bit, but now I am quite nauseous and having hot flashes from the nicotine on an empty stomach. Oh, remember how I didn’t feel like going to the bathroom an hour before? Well, as many of you know, caffeine and nicotine don’t exactly take away the urge. So here I am, laying down with my eyes closed trying to get my body back to normal but my head is pounding, I am nauseous, I am sweating, and I have to use the bathroom with no bathroom in sight. Oh, and I also am 12 hours into this bus ride and know I have at least another 12. Yippee. This is when I ask myself why I didn’t just spend the $30 and fly? I do not know what I am trying to prove to myself. I guess it’ll make for a better travel story one day, or at least a more entertaining blog today.

After a bit I eventually dose off a bit, back into that in-between state. Thankfully this continues for a few hours, helping me not think about any of my other issues. At around 12:00 I get woken up by the guy who gave me the leafy cigarettes, telling me we have arrived. There is no way but he is telling me to get off the bus. I check our location, it is Udaipur, the city I had originally planned on going to. But I shake my head and show him my ticket, and he nods his head and then starts trying to talk to me. I have absolutely no clue what he is saying. I think he he is asking what food I like, did he just ask if I want eggs? After I do the eating motion of an egg he shakes his head, says “I 24.” Ohhhh, he is saying “age” and asking how old I am. He then says “19?” Once again, somebody assumes I am way younger than I am. I correct him and go “25.” He looks shocked and touches his beard and points at my lack of beard, which is saying something because my razor recently broke and I haven’t shaved in weeks, probably a month at this point. Tough. He still doesn’t believe me so I show him my ID and he nods, surprised. The idea that a 25 year old doesn’t have facial hair is unheard of here, and throughout my time in India my presumed age is high teens. I guess this was also the case in much of Southeast Asia as well. 26, 26 is my year to get a beard, I am calling it now. Anyway, basically the entire bus unloads besides myself, one other guy, and the “free” passengers; the ones who did not buy a ticket and are riding in the aisle for free. This consisted of a family: a dad, a mom, a daughter, and two sons, all beneath the age of five. The mom was the one who was throwing up out the door earlier. I didn’t think much of it, as there were open beds so they got to stay in the extra beds. The next four hours go by and I still haven’t had the chance to use the restroom, but at this point the feeling sorta left me. At around 4:30 they are shouting “Jaipur!” And are telling us to get off the bus and get onto a new bus. I had no anticipation for this so quickly pack up my things and get off the bus and head to the new one with the family previously mentioned right behind me. The assistant guy directs me to the back. However, all the beds are full so I am staying in the extra space, which is basically a bed in the aisle at the back of the bus, except it is on the second level, so I am elevated over the aisle, and look down the entire aisle from above. As I get situated in my new position, which is a bit less than ideal because I cannot sit upright and people keep opening up their curtains to their sleeper quadrants and staring back at me. Literally just looking at me for minutes on end, like what are you looking at? What else is there to see after so much time? Anyway, this minor inconvenience quickly leaves me as I realize the family with the three kids is sitting in the middle of the aisle on an incredibly dirty floor stuck in the two foot wide hallway between the sleeper compartments. The mom is holding onto one of the ladders and looks like she is about to pass out with her daughter on her lap. The other two boys are watching me, they must be 2 and maybe 3 or 4? I wave and give them a smile, but I feel bad that here I am, taking up a fair amount of space on a bed that the whole family could probably squeeze onto. So, I try to motion to the dad, with words as well, to see if he wants his family to sit here, at least the kids. I am doing the “rotation” gesture with my hands and asking in English to “switch? Move?” Point at him and then the bed, and then to me and the floor. I am not sure he is picking up on my symbols, and I must have been talking loudly because the compartment door opens to my left and a guy pokes his head out, just as the dad had walked over to try and continue this “conversation.” I ask the guy if he speaks English, he does. I ask if he is willing to ask the man if he wants to switch spots with me. He looks at the guy and says something, but seems to cut it off quickly and says, “no, he didn’t pay for a ticket. Do you have a ticket?” I tell him I do, but I would be willing to switch spots. He shakes his head and tells me not to worry about it. I tell him I want to, that I am happy to sit in the compartment, literally it is such a tiny sacrifice for me. Especially because every time we stop every person has to step over this family, which feels degrading in a sense. He then tells the dad who shakes his head adamantly and goes back to his family, and I ask the guy why won’t he switch? He says because you are a guest in this country, and “guests for us are to be treated like a God.” That they will not take a comfort away from me because I am a guest, that they will do whatever is needed for me. Damn, as if I didn’t already feel privileged throughout this process. He just tells me not to worry about it, to enjoy the trip. It was hard not to worry about it as I am literally sitting above these people, looking down at them from my comforts, as the woman is now lying on the floor because she is so sick. The floor that is full of crumbs, dirt, and literal garbage. The symbolism in this felt palpable. As I sit here and just think about it all, trying to put myself in their shoes. The man who keeps looking up at me and if I make eye contact he smiles and looks away. I can see the feeling of helplessness on his face, nothing he can do to take extra care of his family and it hurts him. The kids are too young to tell what is going on. Or the fact that they do not have a single piece of luggage with them. Not even one bag, and they are traveling hundreds of kilometers to a different city. How many days have they worn those same clothes? How many meals have they had? I am also brainstorming what to do as I am watching them without staring. Then I see a guy next to them poke his head out of his compartment and sorta ask the woman to move. At first I was shocked that he was going to get her to move, but then he knocks on the compartment behind her, and his son opens the door. They converse and the son hands him a few packages of crackers and two water bottles. The man then hands each of the kids a package of crackers and a water bottle. He then hands the woman a water bottle and a pill, which I am assuming is for motion sickness. After they finish a water bottle he takes it back and hands them another one. It was a heart wrenching interaction and I felt a bit choked up over it. There is so much beauty in a selfless act of giving. I know this feels like a pretty simple act, but there was an immense power to it in this environment. It is hard to describe the feeling of witnessing it, but it was beautiful, and gave me a sense of hope for humanity. It didn’t make it easier though. Especially watching the woman throw up a bit in the aisle before stumbling to the door at the front, where she remained for quite some time as her daughter was crying for her. The dad was now playing with his daughter on his lap, with both of his sons at his feet, one not able to walk yet and was tumbling over whenever the bus would stop abruptly or accelerate, but seemed to think it was a game as he laughed when he would topple over. The most beautiful thing about all of this was the love in the family. The dads smile when his daughter would laugh on his lap. The way he looked at his kids was powerful. The love in his eyes as he handed his eldest son some crackers to help open so he could feed his daughter. It was beautiful to watch. That no matter where they were in life they had love, and that to them was probably the most important thing. It made me think about the power of love as well, how I believe it is the single most powerful thing on this planet, but I think I will dive into that a bit in tomorrows blog.

Eventually, around 8:00 or so, we stopped for food. And for me, the bathroom, which was also a minimalist style. After I came and scrubbed my hands enthusiastically for a minute, the guy who was helping me translate earlier was waiting for me. He asked if I was hungry and wanted to join him at dinner. I agreed and we sat down to eat. There was no menu so I told him order me whatever, I am sure I will like it. We get some curries and our buttered chapatis. It is fantastically tasty, and I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I start eating, as it is my first meal of the day. I then think about the kids and the family and look around for them. I see the same guy from earlier giving them more food. What an absolute saint of a human being. I eat with this man and we make small talk, as best we can with the language barrier. He is originally from Nepal, but has lived in India his entire life and has actually never been to Nepal as a conscious being. I ask where he is going, and he says back to his home town in Northern India to see his family, as he hasn’t been able to travel home in the last three years. “Three years?!” I ask him, and he nods, exclaiming how excited he was to see his family because he hasn’t seen any of them since he left. Another crazy realization. The bus ticket for him to get home is probably around $15, something I never think about spending. Yet he hasn’t been able to do it in three years, nor pay for a family member to come say hi. That and probably not being able to take off work. I can feel his excitement and I am so happy for the guy. He is beaming as he talks about giving them a hug. He finishes his meal before me and asks to be excused to go wash his hands, I tell him of course and I just focus on finishing. He comes back and we share a few more words and then it is time to go. I ask where we pay, because normally you walk up to a counter to pay afterwards. He tells me he already paid for everything. Are you freaking kidding me man. I tell him thank you so much but there is no chance you are buying my meal, and take out a few hundred rupees to pay him. He adamantly says, “no no no!” Like I am insulting him with the gesture. But I am also not about to let a guy pay for my meal who is on a journey to go see his family for the first time in years. I persist in my attempt to pay him, but there is no way this man is going to take a cent from me. So, I thank him repeatedly, if I am not going to be able to pay him I want to know how appreciative I am and make sure he feels good. I vow to myself that now I get the opportunity to pay for somebody’s meal, whenever that opportunity presents itself. My first thought was the family, but it seemed like they had already been taken care of for this time. And I wanted it to be a purchased meal, not just a white dude waving a few hundred rupees in their face because I pity their situation.

The bus continued for another hour and then pulls over on the side of a busy road, and the driver is waving at me to get off the bus. I ask if I am getting onto a different one and he says yes, as he is basically pushing me out the door. I get onto the side of a busy highway and the bus pulls off right away. What the fuck is happening? I am still 10 kilometers from Jaipur and the bus was supposed to bring me pretty dang close to my hostel. I am then swarmed by tuk tuk drivers, but one guy is leading the charge. Asking where I am supposed to go, I tell him and show him, and he says “400 rupees.” No way! I tell him as I explain the bus was supposed to take me there. Then more show up and are all asking where I am going and it is hectic, like probably 10-15 guys all surrounding me and asking where I am going. I tell the guy to give me a minute and let me figure this out, and walk out of the circle to find a place of peace for a moment. I do not think they understand and he just walks up to me again after five seconds, “300 rupees.” It is sorta an intense feeling situation so I am responding a bit loudly, with some force to my words, “sir I need a minute. Do not follow me. I am going to walk over there and think for one minute. I will come back! Stay here.” I walk away again, taking out my phone to check Uber prices. He comes up again and the circle returns, at this point I have no patience and the intensity and power in my words is evident, “Sir! Stop! Give me 1 freaking minute!” And walk away to find Uber is 150 rupees. I show him and tell him no way I am paying 300! Then another guy in the circle goes, “200, right now I drop you at the door.” And points to his motorcycle. Fuck it. I say yes and hop on the back of his bike, with my big bag on my back the small one clutched in my left arm. This is worth the extra 50 rupees ($0.60) because I have never been on the back of a bike with two big bags and it seems like a fun treat. I am glad I did too, because at one point during the ride I was able to just shut my eyes and feel the cool summer evening wind on my face, hear the whir of driving, and the feeling of clutching onto a seat with my legs as we speed over pavement. It was a pretty cool feeling to just let go in that moment and sink into the spot I was in. It is about a twenty minute drive, but if it would have been longer I wouldn’t have minded. I hop off, pay him, and check into my hostel where a warm shower awaits me. Which always feels extra special after 25 hours on a not-so-clean bus. I wrap up the blog, post a few things and watch an episode of “Curb” to end my evening.

I am not sure what the lessons are from today. In experiencing the different things on the bus, from the cigarette hanging out the bus door to watching that family or getting my dinner paid for. There is a lot to unpack here, but I think I am going to leave it up to you today, to take away the feelings and lessons that feel right to you. It is sorta wild how an entire day on a bus can pack in so many things that feel important or experiences that will shape how I view life, love, giving, and so many other things. Another day where I can sit back in my bed and feel grateful. Grateful for the ability to be in the position I am in, for the privileges I have, and for the strangers I come across who play a role in this chapter of mine. Two full weeks into this thing as well, that’s something to feel gratitude for on top of it all, which I seem to every time I wrap up one of these writings. Thanks for reading.