One Wild Ride

This story takes place over a week ago, but I was unispired to write, then away, then plum lazy. So here it is:

I had a package in Yambol. I have to go to Yambol to get all packages over 2 kilograms, and the office is only open Monday, Wednesday and Friday from 10:30 to 11:30 a.m.

I work Monday and Friday, so usually my only option is Wednesday.

There is a bus from Straldja to Yambol at 10:20, which normally gets me in town by 10:40. There is a second bus that leaves at the same time but stops in a number of small villages on the way and doesn't usually arrive in town until 11:15.

The second bus is about 200 years old, but that only adds to the adventure.

This, of course, is all exposition.

On Monday of last week we had a mini-break to commemorate the end of the first semester, and on Tuesday I was scheduled to leave Straldja for a week-long seminar in a nearby city. Monday, therefore, was my only option.

I awoke to find a solid six inches of snow on the ground, which came as a HUGE suprise to me (maybe I ought to watch more news...) No problem, I say. This is a major road...The only major road in the area. Of course it will be cleaned and I will be able to get to Yambol.

The plan started to go awry when the fast bus never showed. I suppose the driver decided not to drive that day, which happens from time to time, and that was cool...The slow bus was there. I figured I'd be cutting it close, but it'd be okay.

After paying my two leva and taking my usual seat in the back by the window, I turned on my MP3 player and prepared for a fun, scenic ride.

As soon as we reached town limits it became apparent that Bulgarians DON'T shovel...Or plow...Or in any way remove snow. The wind was whipping the powder all over, covering the road, and the bus traveled at a crawl (for this I was thankful as I do not want my life to end in a Bulgarian bus...) We bounced and swerved and stopped when we hit big bumps. It was like off roading, only it was on a "road" in a red, communist-built minibus with a bunch of elderly women on their way back to the village with huge jugs of fresh milk.

We arrived in Yambol a little before noon, thus missing my window of opportunity for this week, but it was a fun ride. I only wish I had had a video camera.

Eh, I am suddenly overcome with a desire to do something not at my computer. I will write again when I am in story-teller mode...