It's a while since we've had a journey as awful as this bus ride... In fact, I can't, off the top of my head, recall such an all-out uncomfortable travel experience...

-- Nothing good at all?
-- We didn't crash...
-- OK, that's a low bar...
-- The driver was pretty good, actually.
-- So were there problems getting to the bus station in Zagreb?
-- Not at all. Easy walk.
-- Nasty bus station?
-- Not at all. Reasonable waiting area, with good provision of toilets (EUR 0.40), seats, food, and drink.



-- Looks good.
-- We had a burek each as an early lunch, figuring it was easier to eat them than carry them (how right we were...). And we whiled away the remaining time wondering how many bananas another waiting passenger could consume (the answer is a surprisingly large number, and we left before he'd finished...).
-- A dedicated banana-eater is always a welcome distraction. So things started to go wrong when your bus rolled up?
-- That's right. Falling down a drain didn't get me off to the best of starts...
-- Oh, no... Were you OK?
-- Fortunately, yes.
-- People with osteoporosis should try not to fall down drains...
-- You reckon?
-- But no probs after that?
-- Well, there was also a bit of confusion about paying for the luggage that went in the compartment at the back. We already knew we had to pay separately for the luggage, but figuring out we owed EUR 1.10 per piece took a while.
-- It is an oddly confusing amount... But all was OK once you got on?
-- No. That's when the trouble really started. Basically, the bus was too small. We were in different rows, because there were no pairs of seats left by the time we boarded (it had come from Pula, on the coast). And there was just no leg-room or elbow-room or anything-room. Once you were in, you were wedged.
-- Sounds bad.
-- It was. Ultra-cramped. And so, so hot. So, so, so, so HOT... The heating was running full tilt. Plus, once the mist had cleared outside, the sun was blasting in through the windows.
-- What? No curtains or blinds?
-- Nope.
-- They'd never get away with that back home in Southeast Asia. Really, there'd be a rebellion...
-- Indeed. It was just about bearable while I still had the aisle seat, but my seat-buddy corralled me into the window seat after the first passport control, and it was then that my claustrophobia kicked in big-time. Hot, no space, can't move, feel as though I can't breathe... Seriously, I thought I was going to have a panic attack.
-- Wait a minute. There were two passport controls?
-- Yes. That's normal. One to get out, one to get in. But there were lengthy queues for both of them. So to exit Croatia, you get off the bus for the document check. It was after that that my neighbour executed her flanking manoeuvre, and I got trapped by the window. I thought: Never mind, I can regain my aisle seat after the next presentation of passports. But to do the entry procedures for Bosnia-Hercegovina, you just hand your documents to the bus driver, who submits them en bloc. So once I was stuck, I was really stuck.



-- But your fellow-passengers were OK?
-- Yes, apart from the fact that we were the only two people who didn't have a cough... The chances of retaining that distinction are minimal, I would say.
-- Oh no... So you wore masks?
-- Are you kidding? Did you not HEAR what I said about the temperature? With masks we would have faced asphyxiation.



-- But everything rolled along smoothly after the border?
-- No! Massive queues everywhere! And Banja Luka really has a major traffic problem. It took ages to crawl through the city. All up, we were an hour and 20 minutes late (giving us a total journey time of nearly five hours, all in temperatures that would make hell seem icy).
-- But once off the bus the ordeal was over?
-- Yes. Pretty much.
-- Phew.
-- It took 30 minutes to walk to our accommodation, but by that stage it was wonderful to be moving. After the border, we had been incommunicado, but we'd sent a "we're running late" message to our poor landlady before losing contact. Still, she must have had a very tedious wait. She did point out that there were planes from Zagreb to Banja Luka...
-- Yes, I can see how a plane would be tempting... But you wanted to do it all on the surface... Short plane hops being bad for the environment and all that...
-- That was the rationale. But one more journey like today's, and I'll be reconsidering, I can tell you...
-- What a pity there are no trains!
-- WHAT a pity there are no TRAINS...
-- Did you end up having a nice evening?
-- Yes. Journeys resemble what people say about childbirth: Apparently, you forget the agony, and enjoy the result. We're in a lovely little flat, with blinds and lace curtains and a proper entrance-hall and a teeny balcony.




And when we popped into the supermarket that's just next door, we saw racks of products that situated us very clearly further east -- lutenitsa, and char-grilled bottled capsicums, and the kinds of cheeses you get in eastern Europe, and so much more. It's as though we've passed a watershed. And a young man was super-helpful with the bizarrely complicated weighing machine. And we happened by chance on a really excellent bottle of wine. And the whole food haul (of which there's lots left for the coming days) came to the equivalent of GBP 23.00...



-- So you're not throwing in the towel?
-- Not just yet... The next two bus journeys don't involve borders, and are shorter. For the leg after that there's the possibility of a train (although the booking system spat our payment out like a child with a dummy, so we don't know quite where we are with that). For other legs we might consider treating ourselves to the odd private transfer, especially if there's a border involved. There's quite a market for those, it seems, and now we know why...
-- But if the bus trips carry on being really awful, you might rejig completely?
-- We'll see...