The Bus Trip
I wake up early in the morning, about 4am and walk to the bus stop before the sun has risen and the town has woken up. It´s still dark out when the bus pulls away from the stop and the cool mountain air rushes through the open bus windows as the bus accelerates down the winding mountain path. Many of the passengers sleep in the early morning of our trip leaving me alone to my thoughts and the view from the bus. The mountain roads are bordered by thick green foilage and trees that are so tall they must be hundreds of years old. The trees reach down as if almost to greet the buses with their winding vines. Every once in awhile, there is a break in the foilage and my view seems to extend forever, to the other side of the country and beyond. From atop the mountain looking out over the entire valley below and to the mountains and volcanoes in the distance. In the early morning, the mountains and volcanoes are a charcoal black against the blue cobalt sky and this image is veiled in an almost white lace by the morning fog that rests in the valley. The mountains and volcanoes peak out over the top of the fog ...only accentuating their height and grandeur. Many times it seems that the bus driver almost times it so as when our bus begins its descent, the sun begins to rise, cutting through the mountains into the valley with its bright golden rays. As it begins to rise the colors of the countryside change from their dark blues and greys to reveal the lush green valleys and hills of the landscape. The sun reflects off the lakes and rivers in the valley. Travelling alone, this experience is mine undisturbed.