Bus Memories

I went to Australia, for the first time, the summer after my Freshmen year of college. While there, I relearned how to have fun with a deck of cards, a game of charades, or playing musical chairs. I was with 6 Americans and 3 Brits in the middle of the desert, stationed with the Pitjantjatjara Aborigines. The nights were bone chilling, but they provided the clearest view of the stars I have ever seen. The Southern Hemisphere constellations are different than ours in the United States, and the pristine clarity helps me to remember those images better than those I see every night. The sweat-worthy days consisted of buffelgrass and sand of the purest red-orange color . My socks were stained red. I threw them all away. I regret doing that now, but at the time I did not know that color was so rare and beautiful.
I went back to Oz, which is the slang name I picked up from the locals while I was there, the summer after my Sophomore year of college. Although a return trip, it was a new experience. I did not work outside like I had the first time. I did not get to see the red sand again. Instead of being located in The Outback, I led tour groups up the Eastern Coast from Sydney to Cairns. The trip required about 60 American and European college students to cram into a Foster's Duplex Bus (similar, but more homey than our Greyhounds) and travel for days and nights at a time. I loved those trips. It was while on that bus that I introduced and was introduced to new music, I managed to curl into a ball and cover up with a hoodie while sleeping soundly, I realized how often every person really thinks "are we there yet," and I saw Australia. Of course, I had been there and done that before, and the view was constantly changing. But when the engine broke at 3:00am on one of the coldest nights in Australian history, and we took a pit stop in the middle of nowhere, I went searching in the darkness for a bathroom with fear of seeing a ravenous drop bear and a simultaneous urge to catch a glimpse of one. It was a pathetically fun journey to an extremely cold restroom.
When I thought of Oz, I imagined beautiful beaches and exotic animals. Although I do remember the Whitsundays' white sand, and the first time I rode my first wave, it was those unplanned, random excursions that made the experience. It's the details of what happened. I miss that bus.