Got there in the end

We set off to view the canyon at Matka today. Down at the terminal we were directed to a yellow single decker bus with no wheels which had been ingeniously converted into a ticket office. We joined the mixed queue  of older locals and young backpackers, befriending a young Frenchman "my name is Hadrien, like the wall" and eventually got our tickets. Well not tickets exactly but plastic cards which seemed a bit excessive for a local return journey. Tickets in hand we were shown to number 60 stop where the number 60 bus should arrive at 12.10. We waited, and waited, and then at about 12.40 a bus pulls up at the other side of the park and the driver comes over and orders us all to get in to go to Matka. I did note that the bus had the number 56a on it but the driver insisted. So in we all got, locals and backpackers and MrsW and me and set off. Just outside of Skopje as I am nodding off the bus pulls up abruptly by a bus shelter and the driver announces "number 60 bus here". So we are all turfed out. Standing there blinking in the sunlight we feel comfortable in the knowledge that the local people must know the procedure. Then a number 2 bus comes along and all the locals get on. We ask if the bus is going to Matka. "No" says the driver, and drives off leaving a multinational crowd of backpackers and 2 English pensioners standing on the pavement scratching their heads. A long time passes and no number 60 bus appears. It's a long way to walk to Matka and a long way to walk back. Someone suggests a shared taxi but the rest think that if there is no bus going there then there will be no bus going back, and anyway we've paid for our tickets. After further time passes we are joined by a lady from Skopje who fortunately speaks English. She grasps the situation and hails down the next bus which is empty and appears to have no number. After a lengthy diatribe from the lady the driver opens his door and lets us all on. As the bus sets off the lady stands at the front and explains to us all in English that this bus will take us to Matka and tells us the times of the returning buses. We all sit down relieved; well all apart from me that is. It is at this point I realise that my bag with my camera and my glasses in is still on the bus shelter bench where I had left it in my eagerness to scramble on to the bus. By now the bus is a good mile down the road from the bus shelter. I hastily garble my problem to MrsW and shout to the poor driver to stop and let me off. Followed loyally by MrsW (I don't know how she puts up with me, and neither does she as she so often tells me) I hot foot it back down the road. I see a taxi coming the other way and hail him down. He speaks no English, I speak no Macedonian. He speaks very bad German, I speak very bad Dutch accompanied by lunatic style gesticulation. Somehow we come to an understanding just as MrsW catches up and clambers in beside me. He knows he has to turn around and search for a bus shelter. I don't know how he knows but miracle of miracles we pull up by the bus shelter and there is my bag, sitting there looking very lonely. I give him 100 denar (about £1.10) and he drives away to escape the mad foreigners. Then we have to figure how we get to Matka, been here before. We see a number 2 bus coming along. Remember the number 2 bus all the locals got on? Well it turned out they were going to Saraj about 4kms from Matka (I don't think anyone lives at Matka so why would they be going there?) On this bus was another of those wonderful English speaking ladies from Skopje (did you know that Mother Theresa was born in Skopje?) who helped show us our stop, located a taxi and negotiated our fare. For another 200 denar we arrived shortly after the bus and spent the rest of the day explaining about the almost lost bag to concerned young backpackers of various nationalities. And we all got the bus back on time - well nearly on time. Was it worth it? Well it's going to be hard for you to judge from just one blip. I went there and I'm still not sure if it was worth it :-)