Travel log. Dedicated to Sven.

Julia Schiefer is reporting on the OMNIBUS Reading Tour – without actually partaking personally, of course! A blog somewhere between fiction and reality: she will be taking us on her own Hop-On Hop-Off bus tour with real insights instead of the usual sightseeing! Her excursions – open to all – are designed for everyday life (but mostly out of range). If you look to your left, you may see a dog chewing on a skirt; to your right, a scooter transporting a bucket of water as a chariot carries a peacock off to a jolly good show…

“Get on. What’s up? Get on already!” the bus driver cries. The young woman in front of the bus is still hesitant. No, I cannot, she thinks, her legs still hurting from the long hours of sitting. Yes, on the bus ride – albeit subtly, boredom will still eventually set in, pair up with the restless legs and end in physical confusion.
Her neck hair rises.
“Oh, please, I just want to rest a little bit more. Listen, maybe I can get you a coffee at the gas station instead?” She moves from one leg to another.
“No, I’m fine, thanks. I have everything with me. I really would like to go now. Please step on the bus. We wanna be in B soon, you all have an interview there. Everyone will be waiting.”
The bus driver gestures her to come in.
“Ok, ok.”
Reluctantly she enters the bus like oil enters waters, not at all compatible, even if you’d shake it.

The bus ride starts and continues without any interaction worth mentioning. A few of the passengers are napping, some work on their laptop, others are reading. The ones who are talking have reduced their voice to an almost mute level, which is drowned out anyway by the noises of the bus’s motor. The trees to the side have swapped for an indistinguishable line.

The bus driver is bored as hell. While trying to focus on the monotonous highway, he starts to think about his music collection. He knows that he has to do some kind of game to keep the level of concentration up or he will go insane. This time, he prefers to imagine himself being out for a drink with his favorite musician. What would he ask him? It would absolutely have to be in his cousin’s bar, dark wood, bottles, a squeaking floor. Squench-pha, Quiep – These are the sounds. Squench-pha, Quiep – left foot – Squench-pha, Quip – right foot. Squench-pha, Quiep, Squench-pha Quip, Krrrown.
Wait, the bus driver looks around. “Krrrown”?
Krukriiitimap, Krrrown – there it is again. Krrrown. And again. Where does it come from? Is something wrong with the bus? Oh, no, not again, last time he had to wait for the breakdown service for hours. The bus driver looks around. Nothing. He lowers his torso to the right, his ear is wide open.
The source gets closer as he lowers himself further down. The sight of the street isn’t easy to maintain anymore.
Ha! There it is – it’s in the glove box, and it’s making sounds. He stretches over to open the compartment in slow-motion. Yet, there is a gaping nothingness in there. He decides immediately to stop the bus at the next exit of the highway to check if there is anything wrong with the bus. The bus turns out to go perfectly fine though on their ride to B while, the sound just coming back occasionally now and again.

Well, I’ll just have the bus checked by a mechanic, the bus driver concludes.

To be continued.


Photo credits: This image was originally posted to Flickr by Q4RadioGuy at: It was reviewed on by theFlickreviewR robot and was confirmed to be licensed under the terms of the cc-by-2.0.

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