5.00am, Sat June 27, bus, ...my life as romance movie

I am in Maracay. The bus stopped and I transferred to a new bus. Almost too late. I didn't really know what was going on, but the bus driver figured out I wasn't meant to be on the bus.

The last blog trailed off because MS got me. After getting off the bus at the darkened rest stop, I peed and had a meander, peered at a black body of water and got bored. I got back on the bus. Soon I heard knocking at the curtained window. I peered out but didn't see anyone. I couldn't think why someone would be knocking at the window. I heard it again, looked again, saw nothing...and then I got it. The tall, thin figure walking away from the bus was MS. His bus, too, had stopped here. His bus left a half an hour after mine did, and here I have been at this rest stop for half an hour. I gathered together my things and ran to the door that separated the passenger area from the driver's booth. It was locked.

I am passing a lake with the hues of sunrise. Now back into green farmland. On this new bus, on the top level, I passed through a beautifully green, treed lush town, with single houses set back on grassy hills, curving gentle stone stairways leading up to them. In the half light it looked like the nicest town I've seen in Venezuela. Simple concrete houses, but fewer walls and gates and better upkept. Rolling jungly hills with the sparkle-lights of habitation. I have also passed a shantytown; a settlement of standard rectangular houses row after row in a field; and an industrial area. I suspect I am now on the outskirts of Caracas, industrial with farmland and a view of the hills in the distance.

Last night, confronted by the locked white door, I knocked and knocked to no avail. I went back to my window in the fourth row, back to the door, pounded on the closest window to the door, and finally gave up. I started to write and saw MS pass by my window. I knocked on the glass, scaring the girl in front of me, but he didn't hear. Then, suddenly, the bus started moving. I couldn't figure out what was going on as only a few of the passengers were on the bus. I am puzzling over this mystery, pen still poised over paper, when I feel a touch on my arm and there is MS, between me and the door, grabbing my hand as I gathered my things again. I was full of joy.

MS led me off the bus and said we were crossing a river and took me to a bench on the barge that was slowly carrying both of our buses and trucks and cars across the river. He had no idea where we were either, but thankful for small favours we kissed and kissed and I was party to another one of those killer smiles. I am so glad he persisted in getting me off that bus.

In fact, we kissed for too long and we had to run to catch his bus, mine having already left the barge. We took running jumps onto his bus, which had already started moving off, and waited till we caught up with my bus. I wasn't sure what exactly was going on (and was half hoping I'd have no choice but to end up in Valencia with MS) and wanted to keep touching MS but suddenly I had to rush off the bus to face mine, boarding sheepishly.