smell Keyword
Greyhound
It is 2am. I’ve been on the Greyhound bus for 7 hours. The sound of the road peeling away under the wheels and the gentle rocking of a cabin should be lulling my senses into a blissful stupor but they bring no respite. I watch through my window into the clinging blackness and try to ignore the poster child schizophrenic that chose to sit next to me. He keeps yelling and yelping, one of three personalities at any time bursting forth onto the bus. Sometimes it’s the retarded boy, others the racist Southerner and when ever a sign came into resolve enough to be read: the educated Harvard scholar. If I am lucky I can catch them arguing between each other as their vessel jerked and roiled about in his seat. Their arguing continues through the night and punctuates the darkness. Around 5am he quietens a little, yet keeps snorting and fizzing and fidgeting. His odour has driven a few of my fellow passengers to move up into shared seats, foregoing their comfortable reclining positions for relief from the smell. I breathe through my teeth and count the hours, the minutes, the seconds until the next stop.
With the break of dawn comes an oasis of a gas station where we stop for food and drinks. My seat partner rises from his perch and lumbers down the isle, carrying with him his most valuable worldly possessions, 15 recycling containers. I stretch and am greeted by numerous faces that smile at me reassuringly and words of praise and amazement at my resolve. Only 13 more hours of travel face me but they lay stretched along the i5 through the new day. The terrain changes in hue and composition as we roll ceaselessly onwards into the morning. California opens before the bus welcoming me into it’s warm bosom. Mesas rise along the highway and farmland covered in dry grass surround the coach as we travel south in the morning sun.
While my strange friend has moved on he leaves a sinister stink he in his stead, standing sentry in the cabin like a ghost. I push my chin deeper into my chest and watch the white lines weave and duck back and forth along the asphalt. We’ll be coming up to San Francisco soon according to the woodsman that sits in the seat in front of me. I look out of my window and drink up the scenery. I gulp it up in an attempt to satisfy my excitement. A new city awaits just on the other side of the bay. A new city, with new sights, new people and hopefully new adventures.
Paris
My final stop in my European Adventure was Paris, but to get there was always going to be a mission.
After travelling through the very cool Liechtenstein, up in Germany to stay a night a Munich I jumped my final ever Busabout Bus. I was fairly lucky because, while it is a long bus, requiring a driver change I managed to get both Zoltan and Owen for my drivers: two of my favourites of the service. The drive from Munich to Paris took us from 8 am through till 9pm, nearly 12 hours of constant bus, punctuated by short rest stops with nothing really look at apart from boring flat french farmland.
It wasn’t until I got my gear into my hostel, had a rest and ventured out the next day that I really started enjoying Paris. While the disgusting smell of urine punctuates every corner of the city, the beauty of the place over powers it. The architecture, the city planning and the history combine to make for a wonderful city.
One of my favourite moments in Paris came in my second night and involved catching up with Sophia, Ben and little Max at a tapas restaurant in the heart of Paris. It was a great evening and Max has grown up heaps. Last time I saw him he was still pretty much just a poop machine!
During most of my time in Paris I wandered the city by day, did a walking tour with New Paris, made new friends and then more friends. We adventured to the Eiffel Tower at night, drank wine and enjoyed the lightshow. The next day I went wandering with some people from my room, checked out the Notre Dame and caught more of the city.
My final night in Paris I took part in a Fat Tire Night Bike, by far the highlight of my time in the city. Guided by the very cool, very chilled and very Californian Billy we wove through the streets of Paris in the gathering dusk. We saw the sun set through the pyramid at the Louvre, caught a boat cruise and drank wine as the Eiffel Tower lit up and still made it home before 12. Billy even taught me the ways of the Segway, something he said to keep on the down low.
The next day I caught the Eurostar First Class across the channel, waving a fond goodbye to Europe and the adventures I had there. I hope the US is just as exciting.
I was unfortunately feeling poorly for most of my time in Paris, so I didn’t get to do everything that I wanted to do, but I’ll be back again some day for sure. For those wanting to experience what was going through my head the whole time I walked Paris, just hit play on the video clip after the jump. I dare you to try and get that tune out of your head without a spoon!