The Worst Ride of My Life

Mountains, mosques and a maniac

As we left Skopje, we drove past villages. Each little village has at least one mosque sometimes two. They are easily recognisable by their very tall white minarets.

Our bus is a little 22-seater with minimal leg room. I asked the driver if I could ride shotgun. His response was a terse “No!”

Ok, I tried.

I’ve been spoiled. I rode up front with the driver all around Iceland and in the Philippines. I find it hard to climb up into the back especially loaded with bags. It took two passengers to pull me in. There was nothing to hang onto.

My second option is the middle seat at the back so I can stretch my legs into the aisle. I sat down and the seat broke. “Oh shit, I broke the seat.”

Nope, I didn’t. It was already broken. I had to sit here. See the photo below. Even normal-legged people would struggle to fit their knees in here and my legs are longer than most.

I had to sit sideways in the seat. It was beyond uncomfortable. You can see the guy behind me had to sit sideways too.

And if you think this is bad, it got worse. Every time the driver hit the brakes, my bare arm hit the spiky tray on the back of the seat in front of me.

Then things started to get wild. We were careening downhill on tight curves doing 100 kph (at least) and cutting across into the oncoming lanes. I had to hold on so as not to slide out into the aisle. The crazed driver would then have to swerve back onto the right side of the road when oncoming traffic approached.

He was driving like the devil possessed. I was terrified. I thought I was being a big baby . Everyone else seemed to be accepting it like it was normal driving behaviour.

When I’ve been in this situation before, I’ve said to the driver, “Please slow down. I think I’m going to be sick,” and pretend to dry retch. They slow down. The problem apart from my being 5 seats back and having little voice was the driver didn’t speak English. I am not a good passenger even with my own kids driving.

So as well as being the most uncomfortable ride, it’s now become the scariest. I hope Lake Ohrid is exceptionally beautiful to be worth this agony and fear. I hope the way out isn’t the same as the way in, although we will be going uphill. I hung on tight and ate spinach and cheese chips to take my mind off my imminent death.

As we pulled into Ohrid, the girl sitting opposite me crossed herself. As she alighted from the bus, she fairly abused the driver. I was pleased I wasn’t the only one who thought he was a lunatic. In the bus terminal, I was behind a couple at the ticket desk asking about times to Tirana.

We started chatting and they were also terrified this bus ride would be their last. Erilyn and I caught a taxi to Villa Milka and that couple walked. They arrived seconds after us. They’re from Iran and are staying in the room next to ours for 2 nights. Then they are off to Tirana.

We might stay one more night as there’s only one bus to Tirana at 8am every morning and that’s only gives us one whole day here. It sure was a long harrowing drive for just one day.

We were welcomed by a host with some of his homemade twice-distilled liquor which really numbed my aching body. Only 30%, he said. I finished off the day with a hot, hot, spa. Tomorrow, I’m going to go for a swim in Lake Ohrid, rain, hail or shine. You only live once but I’m really hoping it’s shine! You can’t keep me away from water for too long.