I get off the plane, get some Tunisian dinars and a map, and find the bus stop. The sunset is stunning: there are huge, dark clouds overhead, but off in the distance the sky is on fire. The 635 bus shows up as it starts to pour rain. Fifteen people run out in the storm to board the bus, but it's so packed that only a few can squeeze in.
I sit with my backpack, bottle of water, and notebook, waiting for the next one. When it arrives, it's far less crowded, and I pay about a dollar for a ride to town.
The bus quickly gets packed. Soaked passengers cram in and I'm forced to stand further and further toward the front, pressed against other riders. The driver is aggressive and the bus lurches to and fro in the rainstorm. I'm weak from my food poisoning debacle and struggle to straddle my backpack as I hold my water and notebook in one hand and try to hang on to a pole with the other.
A Tunisian teenager, probably about 16 years old, is sitting near me as I hold the pole above his head. He makes eye contact and extends his open hand. I'm confused at first, but then I get it: He'll hold my notebook and water so I can more easily grab the bars and stay upright. I hand over the items, and he stows them on his lap until I get to my stop.
What a nice introduction to a country. Thanks, friend.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment