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Why Public Transport?
By Henry Biernacki 'Global Henry' - world traveler, pilot, and author of 'No More Heroes'

Horns buzzed as people sat in an isolated world, listening to their own radio, thinking their own thoughts, without moving closer to where they needed to go. The silence seems to calm the busy-minded modern human, although, they still sat alone in their own car which is why public transportation, in a foreign culture, is far more exciting than sitting in our own car or even in a rented one. Invaded, really does no justice to public transport in some parts of the world, and yet, traveler’s still find so much joy in sharing this chaos, rather than being alone in a new land.

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Henry Biernacki discusses Public Transport

Henry Biernacki 'Global Henry' - As a world traveler, pilot, and speaker, Henry Biernacki 'Global Henry' has visited over 120 countries, and has personally traveled to the many far-off locations he describes in his debut novel No More Heroes. Learn more at www.TheGlobalHenry.com

Excerpt from “No More Heroes” Chapter XXII, Character of a Country

Hordes of vendors and shoppers stood around. He smelled frying samosas and boiling chai. Life’s simply different at any bus-park and it’s more alive than any night along the Las Vegas strip. You could find the most diverse group of people and food at these parks. Porters yell to warn people they were coming by with heavy luggage. Wheels of old buses squealed to a halt and sounded the way air does when it escapes a balloon. He enjoyed those kinds of places. In fact, most people forget those places. Niklas recreates them when he writes about them: brings them back to life. There wasn’t really pavement to cross to get to the ticket counter, only a collection of potholes filled with muddy water.

On the road, a traveler moves at the pace of the surroundings and grabbing a public bus to travel ten minutes or ten hours is going to provide plenty of entertainment for anyone.

Although, during the process you may ask yourself, “Why would anyone travel in this fashion?” At the end, and when you return home, most of the chaos is what people remember of their travels: the moments making them adapt to such newness; sitting on bags of mail or sharing a seat- made for two people- now shared with four sweaty people. The ease of traveling is placed somewhere in a vault, deep in our memories, and rarely spoken of again, but that random selection of experiences seem to be spoken of more and more. This is the bewilderment, which takes place, in such a place like the local buses.

Excerpt from “No More Heroes” Chapter XXIII, They Saw the World

A lady got on the bus. Gold jewelry dangled and her red sari draped around her as she stepped over the bags of mail. Niklas couldn’t take his eyes off the color of her skin. The colorful gypsy cloth mixed with her Nepali life. Her eyebrows thin, her lips slight but full, her cheekbones high and her smile, well, showed her deep white pearl-like teeth. The woman’s eyes sparkled like the sun springing off ripples of rolling waves on a string of water through a river. Large and small flowers covered her well-kept sari. She pulled her sari off the floor after she smiled. Her veil partly covered her face. It ran over her ear just showing enough of her gold earrings. Her hair was tightly pulled back and shiny. Niklas could smell the coconut oil. She looked right at Niklas’ eyes and smiled because she knew he was writing about her. Her head tilted to the side, as if she were posing for his sculpting hand. Her eyes lifted to look out the window. This, also, gave his left hand a new position with which to write. She lifted her arm to place her bag on the shelf above the seat. One arm braced her and the other adjusted her black DKNY purse. He could feel the sun getting hotter. The bus was turning into a furnace.

The lady lifted her arm, the under part of her right breast showed. She had six beads of sweat attached to her thin stomach the way moisture clings to a cold glass. The sari revealed her finely cut ribs and tanned skin. The six beads of sweat started to roll just the same way the heavy moisture falls causing a glass to be slippery. The six beads rolled. He should know, that is, about the six beads; he counted.

The pleasure of traveling comes from being able to sit, feel, and focus on the unexpected rush on a traveler’s senses without the bound or constraints of modern life. Travelers may be unsure what is going on and somehow, continuously, enjoy the locales. Even the times when your legs ache, the sort of ache from sitting without moving too long, and no amount of stretching will do. The only cure: walking and that is not for many hours.

Excerpt from “No More Heroes” Chapter XXII, Character of a Country

Niklas glanced out the window and answered his own question about why people travel. He saw the highest peaks in the world shear through thick clouds. But it felt like a hazy dream, too perfect, and too soon he thought he would wake up and forget what it was he was dreaming. Traveling is for the subtle sights that make Niklas see life differently. The subtle beauty made him question everything. You may not want to ask any questions but you are drawn to try to understand what it is you are experiencing. You lose track of yourself and become part of everything.

One of the men who recently got on the bus tried to step over Niklas. His white sarong fit like a woman’s mini skirt. Tight! Niklas moaned as he had to move all his things and his legs. At this point, he was adjusting to the smallness of everything in this country.

Leejoan looked at him and, on behalf of the man, said with a serious calm toned voice, “But Niklas,” she stopped and lowered her voice and grinned while adding, “his skirt is too tight!”

Niklas just gleamed at her with a simple smile because he liked the way she said that. He was not sure if his chest started to sweat because of the closeness of everybody on the bus or if he was just tickled at being in Nepal again. Either way it reminded Niklas of a friend, Ben van der Gopsill, describing the way his body became drenched as he crossed the bridge from Zambia to Zimbabwe and stood next to the thundering water of Victoria Falls. Everyone’s chest is the first place where people start to sweat because their heart begins to pound. As he wiped the water from his dampening chest, people motioned Leejoan to move over. The seat was made for two people and now they had three people in this cozy tight plastic seat. Leejoan bumped his arm and said, “I wonder how many ping there….”

The isolated world of our own cars seems monotonously repetitive compared to the world of experiences we could have when we step on to public transport, even if it is in our home city. The idea is: the more lost you are, the better the experience and certainly the enhanced memories. When on the local transport, you become completely vulnerable to the country.