Day 66: Waiting for a bus

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Sitting at a village local shop, surrounding by sunbathing dogs, bright orange clad young monks and a handful of sleepy locals we waited for our bus.
Buses are fairly reliable, I have come to realise. Especially those you take from main bus stations. However this was going to be my first vaguely scheduled bus and the tactic is to just chill. No use prowling up and down the pavement with your hands on your hips scowling down the road where the bus is meant to be coming from, it is not going to come any sooner. No use panicking either, stating that the bus is an hour late already and the man over there told us it was going to be ten minutes. It will come when it comes. And over to your right sit half a dozen locals all just chilling, waiting for the exact same bus.
There are very few alternative solutions when in a village that barely reaches over 100 in population other than to do a local. They love a good sit. Eating a variety of biscuits and drinking coke.
So whack out your book, keep everything to hand to make your quick dash for the bus when it finally comes and stock up on a few delectable snacks to keep you entertained, as we all should know by now if you ask how long the bus will be, the answer will always be ten minutes.

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