This afternoon, we caught the bus from Thessaloniki to Sophia (Bulgaria). Buses are big business in Greece, and the bus terminal was noisy, busy and confusing. Our bus finally pulled in from its drive up from Athens... with a scheduled 4 minutes break to load us all in Thessaloniki. Passengers from Athens disembarked for a toilet break while they loaded our luggage. The Thessaloniki passengers took the seats being used by the Athens passengers. Upon returning, the Athens passengers demanded their seats back. A few passengers expressed their reluctance to move... and the bus driver showed his Bulgarian negotiating skills to sort out the situation. It left a couple of passengers with scores to settle with the bus driver (let's call them the rebel section)... which led to some great theatre later in the trip.
We boarded the bus... the day was warm (28 degrees)... but the temperature in the bus was mid-thirties... uncomfortable but bearable. Joye and I assumed that air-conditioning was not part of the deal... and apparently, so did the other passengers. We were stoic in accepting the temperature up to the Bulgarian border. On the Greece side, Joye and I had to abandon our passports (temporarily) into the hands of the Greece border control police. We adjourned to a roadside cafe while they did their checks and stamp our passports. "That wasn't too bad" we thought.
We changed our minds 50 metres up the road when the Bulgarians had their turn. Being mutual Schengen countries, the bus is usually waved straight through. However, today there was a new officer in charge who decided that all tour buses would be searched in an effort to stamp out cigarette smuggling into Bulgaria. This may well have been a good idea... except he had no facilities or trained staff to carry out such a search. Everyone was instructed to get off the bus and take their luggage out of the hull. This we did and waited on the roadside for further instructions. The leader was keen on inspecting the bus facility. His offsiders gradually worked their way through inspecting the passengers' luggage... shoving their hands into the suitcases in search for big boxes of cigarettes. The passengers were all cleared... but the leader had found a stash of 10 bottles of cocacola in a recess of the bus. (There was unsubstantiated talk of them finding a couple of packets of cigarettes that couldn't be accounted for.) But there was one luggage compartment that wouldn't open. It had rusted shut! This bus wasn't going anywhere until that door was opened. They tried kicking it... jemmying it.. trying any key that anyone had... all to no avail... that door would not budge! Finally, the young fellow helping the driver jemmied open the side of the on-board toilet... thereby allowing the customs leader to shine his torch inside and see there were no mountains of illicit cigarettes. Passengers had been standing in the hot sun for 30 minutes and were delighted when the leader waved his arms at us signalling to get on board.
This is where things started to get interesting. As we stepped on board, someone turned the air conditioning on... a cheer went up from the rebel section of passengers. When the driver started the engine, he turned the air conditioning off! This was not a popular move amongst the passengers... particularly amongst the rebels. The driver took to the road... clearing the customs area before they took an interest. The howls of protest grew louder. One rebel lady pretended to faint... another prompted her daughter to start bawling at top volume. The rebel man was shouting and waving his arms. Those of us up the back of the bus tried hard to suppress our giggles... never had tragic opera been performed with such enthusiasm.
The driver ignored the performance for a couple of kilometres... but eventually couldn't take it any more. He stopped the bus with the engine running. Joye and I had the benefit of an interpreter (a Bulkanese returning from working in Athens). He recounted the conversation as follows.
The driver said, "Is there a problem with the air conditioning?" The guy was dripping with perspiration from his efforts to open the compartment door for the customs official. "Is there a problem with the air conditioning?" he repeated. This brought increased excitement from the rebels. With a face portraying disbelief, he walked down the aisle testing the outlets. He scratched his head. The rebels were at fever pitch. "Why don't you turn the air conditioning one?", they demand. "It worked at the customs station." "The air conditioning seems to be broken. What can we do? We can wait here and telephone Sophia and have a replacement bus arrive here in 2 hours... or we can continue to Sophia without air conditioning." The driver knew he held the winning hand. The rebel lady pretended another fainting episode so she was not called upon to comment. The daughter stopped bawling. The rebel man busied himself with drinking more water. There was a deadly quiet. "OK", said the driver, "We'll push on." That wasn't the end of proceedings. There was punishment to be handed to the rebels... and if there was some collateral damage by punishing the other passengers as well... so be it! He driver stopped 5 kilometres further down the road for an unscheduled gas fill. We all sweltered waiting for the tank to be filled. Not a peep was heard from the rebels.
Within 15 minutes of restarting, the road took us to a mountain pass just below the snow line. Those in the back of the bus had one more laugh when the rebel lady left her seat to retrieve her leather coat... complaining about the cold.
No comments:
Post a Comment