The Fog

Photo by Quinn Ryan Mattingly

It was surprisng that some of the bus passengers were actually able to sleep despite the irregularity of the road. I conjectured that ex-communist tracks weren't much better built than Mexican ones as my head bounced from one side to the other, hitting the window in periodic intervals of time. My conjecture survived several minutes of testing, until I decided that any attempt to fall asleep would be futile, and that the seemingly sleeping passengers were only fooling themselves.

At two in the morning we were somewhere between Bohemian and Hungarian lands, making our way to Budapest. Layers of fog continued to grow thicker as we approached our destination, and the fitful path wasn't improving. The old man to my left kept shifting uncomfortably in his seat, he couldn't sleep either, it seemed like there was someone to talk to at least...

George was 83; he was Canadian and had been in the British Army for most of his life. After his retirement he moved back to Canada with his wife (who passed away a few years ago), planning to spend their last years together in the shores of Vancouver. They didn't have any offspring or close relatives, but they were happy. George suddenly found himself alone in the world, in the winter of his life.

Our friend then did the most logical thing he could think of: he enrolled at the University of British Columbia for a combined major in Archaeology and Sociology, spending his summer holidays as a backpacker. I would just like to say it again: he was 83.

He had been in London for the last couple of weeks visiting some distant cousins, but he became bored and decided to try something more exotic. Prague proved to be good enough for a few days, but now he wanted to try Budapest. Unable to find a more suitable schedule, he bought a ticket for the overnight bus we were riding, managed to get there at the last minute, and occupied the seat next to me.

We didn't stop talking for the remaining of the ride. George told me of his adventures in Korea and Africa while serving the Army, about his lessons in UBC, and his recent backpacking trips. We exchanged travelling experiences, discussed military strategy and political affairs, and wondered together about the meaning of life. For hours I read from that library of wisdom and experiences just as I am used to read from The General when I'm home. By the time we arrived, I felt like I had learned an invaluble life lesson, the sort of lesson that one can't type down because the only way to understand it is to experience it. I felt I had learned something I had been waiting to learn for some time.

It was 7 am when we finally walked outside. The fog was so thick that we weren't able to see anything further than three steps away. The air around us was completely white -the mist and rays of light interacted in such a way that it all had a dreamlike appearance. It was as if time had stopped still.

Neither of us said goodbye, we just walked into the fog and became invisible to one another. I kept walking until the bus and the rest of the passengers became invisible too, shadows of people drifting away like ghosts.