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a bus ride - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing

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Upon the bus ride that new day, the clouds blossomed pink as if in visual empathy with the poppy red paint below.

Riding in that double decker, cherry red to complement the rosy sunrise, the Thames was a great and meditative view.

We would climb the spiral staircase to the top deck and rush to the seats at the front. In our hands was our imaginary wheel and we drove that routemaster through the London streets. We may have been kids, but we riding high, grins broader than the Thames.

Upon the bus ride, rocked as if we were in a great silver cradle, there is a sense of tranquil togetherness.

The bus ride with Liv is my favourite time of the day all year round. Yet, at this time if year we travel in the golden hour, when the sunlight is just right, soft and warm. It is as if we are the protagonists of some classic movie, the lovers riding along, unaware of the heroes they will become.

The bus ride is my meditation. The same chill music in my earbuds, the same view passing as a beloved and rewatched movie.

We ride this silver cocoon over the earth, our eyes on the trees that grow in their infinite patience, leaves breathing out our oxygen, bathing in the same light as we soon will. I feel the movement of the wheels over the road, following the curves and greeting each slope in its smooth way. These bus rides are my meditation, a chance for my thoughts to greet the horizon, salute the clouds and ready my feet for the day ahead.

The bus rocks us from side to side as we travel these familiar roads, our brains afforded the time to daydream or rest. There are those who chatter, their voices rising and blending together in the sweet ritual of friends. Some absorb themselves in music, others drift into worries that will erase themselves on arrival, when their body rejoins the world of moving and speaking to others. And so it goes on that way, all of us together and separate, feeling all the same turns and bumps.

The bus is a clanker, yet under the faded yellow paint is a classic - the shape transporting me back to childhood. As it passes I barely see it at all, my mind painting a picture over the top, a picture of what it could be if it were restored. Call me nostalgic, but there was love in those old designs.

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Creative writing about a bus journey

Creative writing about a journey, creative writing story about a journey, creative writing about a train journey, creative writing about a bus ride, creative writing about bus stop, bus journey creative writing, further information.

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AQA GCSE Questions: Narrative, Creative and Descriptive

Below, you’ll find a list of narrative and descriptive questions for AQA GCSE English Language, Paper 1 Section B. These questions can also be used more generally as narrative and descriptive prompts for those exploring the craft of creative writing, or studying an alternate GCSE or IGCSE exam board.

Thanks for reading! For all English Language and Literature courses, click here .

AQA GCSE English Language Paper 1

AQA GCSE English Language Paper 2

THE QUESTION

Write a description of a mysterious place, as suggested by this picture:(2020)

Write a story about an event that cannot be explained. (2020)

Write a story about a magical world as suggested by this picture:

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Describe a place you think is beautiful. (2019)

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Write a description of an old person as suggested by this picture: (2018)

Write a story with the title ‘Discovery’. (2017)

Write a story, set in a mountainous area, as suggested by this picture: (2017)

Write a story about two people from very different backgrounds. (2016)

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Essay on A Journey By Bus

It is generally said that a Journey by bus is not as thrilling as one by train or rear plane is. However, I had quite a pleasant experience of the Journey by bus which I undertook a few months ago. It was the month of January. My annual examination was over. I had recess for some days. My parents decided to go to my uncle's house at Smaller by bus. Hearing the news my heart danced with Joy. It was 15th January 2014. We got into the bus at the Subtotal bus terminal in due time. It was winter. There was pleasant sunshine. The sun started punctually Just at 6 a.m.

I sat beside a window and was looking outside. The sun was rising with all its splendid beauty. Within an hour our bus began running leaving the urban areas at a high speed along the road with green fields on both sides. I was looking at the houses, trees, and meadows through the window with a cheerful mind. Things came to my vision and vanished in the twinkling of an eye. Everything on either side seemed running swiftly to the opposite direction. When the bus was running through the forest of 'Modular gear', the tall trees with green leaves gave a nice view.

I was really charmed at the green beauties of Nature. It filled my heart with great Joy. The bus ran continuously for three hours. It then stopped at a place named Plash. There was a restaurant by the roadside. We got down from the bus and had light refreshments there. After a few minutes, the bus began Its Journey again crossing the green fields on both sides of the road. This time we saw bare-bodied youngsters tending cattle and grown-up people working In the field. Occasionally we saw village women and girls bathing and washing clothes In the ponds. At about 12 noon we reached Smaller.

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Thus our Journey came to an end. The Journey by bus was really a pleasant one. I can hardly forget the sweet memory of this Journey. The scene of the Journey peeps Into my mind when I become tired of the monotonous urban life. Words- 361 a journey by bus By brandied After a few minutes the bus began its Journey again crossing the green fields on both grown up people working in the field. Occasionally we saw village women and girls bathing and washing clothes in the ponds. At about 12 noon we reached of this Journey.

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Descriptive Essay On My Bus Ride

The Adventures of My Daily Bus Ride You never know what to expect when you ride public transportation. You will always find a variety of people and while you will see new passengers every day after a short period of time you begin to recognize the regular commuters who have a daily routine that public transportation is a vital part of. Each in his or her own world. Some are friendly, others are people who just want to be left alone and ride in silence. Every morning I make the same short walk down my narrow tree lined street to Burnside and make my way to the bus stop . The stop itself is nothing more than a pole stuck into the concrete with a small sign on top identifying this section of sidewalk as a bus stop: number 8745 Burnside/Stark, 20 to Beaverton TC. After standing there for just a few minutes that feel like an eternity, watching traffic drive by, I look and in the distance and I can see the white and blue bus making its way to my stop. As the bus slowly rolls to a stop in front of me I shuffle my bags and rush forward to board with excitement to finally be on my way. As I board with my bus pass in hand and a ready smile for the driver, greeting her with a cheery good morning, I am somewhat surprised to find she is so preoccupied with her own thoughts she barely glances my way. Undeterred I try again and say, “It sure is nice out today”. When I still get no response, I say thank you and amble down the aisle to find a seat. The bus is crowded with morning commuters each preoccupied with their own thoughts and each going to their own destination. As I look around for a vacant seat, I notice the variety of passengers on the bus. I see a tired mother with two small children both climbing all over her and the bench seat they are occupying. She is trying to get the children to sit down without any luck. Across from her sits an older lady who I see almost every morning, clutching a little grocery cart with several plastic bags tied to the handle. We make eye contact and I smile. A couple seats over is a teenage girl with blue hair and facial piercings who has not once looked up from the smart phone she has in her hand. She’s lost in the tiny earbuds attached to the sides of her head. She seems to be

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Observational Bus Ride

Introduction- The East Bay area is an economically diverse community with many satisfactory and unsatisfactory aspects. Each city had its differences and distinctions in people, settings, and cleanliness. As the bus left the station and went around the corner I could tell that we were in a low poverty city. With loose trash and debris in front of houses and apartment buildings, the area looked torn down and not very visual pleasing. Already familiar with the city of Emeryville I knew to expect a more upscale location. With plenty of name brand stores, and new apartment complexes, it was obvious this city was clean and very different from the previous location. As the bus

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The Ride is the story of the heinous and gruesome murder of ten year old, Jeffrey Curley, a case that is familiar to many in the Massachusetts area. The book works its way from the grisly crime to the years afterward. It focuses on the family of Jeffrey, heavily weighted on the life of Cambridge Firefighter Bob Curley, Jeffrey’s father. Charles Jaynes and Salvatore Sicari, both from Jeffrey’s neighborhood were convicted of the murder. Within this essay I will demonstrate from The Ride the relationship between reporting and suffering that may have been brought on for the crime victims of this case, the relationship between the victim profiles and the victim family profiles, the role in which the family may have played in the

The History Of World War II

The government’s quota for buying tires and its rationing of gasoline leads to jammed streetcars and buses. Relying on public transit, each of the family members has to deal with an overburden system. Busy streets such as Grand Avenue and Washington Avenue run streetcars and buses that are filled with crowded conditions where people are standing shoulder to shoulder. (F655)

Analysis Of Riding The Bus With My Sister By Rachel Simon

Rachel Simon is the author of six books; The Story of Beautiful Girl, The House On Teacher's Lane, Riding The Bus With My Sister, The Writer's Survival Guide, The Magic Touch, and Little Nightmares Little Dreams. In 2005, Hallmark Hall of Fame adapted Riding The Bus With My Sister for a film by the same name. It starred Rosie O'Donnell as Rachel's sister Beth and Andie MacDowell as Rachel, and it was directed by Anjelica Huston. Rachel is one of the only authors to have been selected twice for the Barnes & Noble Discover New Writers Program, once in fiction and once in nonfiction. She has received a Secretary Tommy G. Thompson’s Recognition Award from the U.S. Dept. of Health and Human Services, for contributions to the field of disability. She then attended Bryn Mawr College, graduating with a degree in Anthropology in 1981. Rachel's jobs have included being a community relations manager at a large bookstore, and a creative writing teacher at several colleges. She now makes her living as a writer and a speaker on topics related to disability.

Essay on Bus 475 Week 2 Individual

Body Fitness is a new state of the art fitness facility coming to the valley that will offer the finest workout equipment, intense one-on-one personal training, proper supplemental nutrition plans, and strategic planning for a patient’s course of action to get in shape. Each fitness facility will offer the essential wide range of work out equipment and will be staffed to accommodate clients from high school age to retirement. Clients will consist of the average high school student struggling with weight, the college football player looking for supplemental professional and nutritional training, or the mother of four trying to lean up her body so she feels comfortable after enduring the impact four children may bring

Bully In Middle School

I came far from fitting in with my rambunctious fellow passengers, and I was targeted for this principally by one particularly rambunctious kid named Ryan. Although intellect was not revered among preteens, wit was, the difference being that the latter often comes at the expense of another. Ryan had discovered that in this barbarian world clever taunts brought quick popularity, and I was his patsy. Weeks passed where I had to tolerate insults about what I did, what I wore, how I spoke, and anything else that discriminated me from an average kid. For this reason I actively avoided riding the bus. I was forced to make excuses to adults when asking to be picked up from school because if I tried to explain the situation, they dismissed concerns as they were simply a children’s fable invented for the purpose of getting

Narrative Essay On A Trip To The Airport

“Kylee it’s time to get up!” Mom yelled as she was finishing getting ready. “We need to go to the airport!” It was in the moment I was so excited it was finally time, after waiting all those years to go to Las Vegas! I jumped out of bed unlike most mornings and my heart was filled with joy! I hurried to get ready and threw my bags in the car. We rushed to the the kennel to drop off my dog. I was really sad I hate leaving my dog at the kennel by herself. It makes me feel like a bad person, I wish we could bring her with us. I remembered that I was going to Las Vegas it made me feel alot happier. Then my family and I started heading to Cedar Rapids. We got to the airport then parked our car. I walked in smelling all of the delicious food! I went to get breakfast and took a seat a little anxiously mostly because the only time I flew was when I went to Florida when I was 8. Until I heard, “142 flight to Las Vegas is boarding now.” I jumped clear out of my seat and rushed to the doors that were slowly opening to board the plane. I was sitting on the airplane watching my favorite movie “The Proposal” laughing all the way there. The lady announced on the speaker “All passengers please fasten your seat belts we are about to land in about 5 minutes. I was excited but I was scared for the landing my ears were popping in and out and as soon as I hit the ground I bounced out of my seat. After we landed I screamed, I was in Las Vegas! There were so many people there you wouldn't believe it. We went to grab our bags from the huge baggage claim and look for our limo driver. When we found her she greeted us and we took a picture in front of the limo. That was one of the best experiences of my life. I felt so happy and excited. I felt like a celebrity.

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Typical, it is 7:31 am Monday morning and I am running late. Knowing it will take approximately twenty minutes for me to make it to 8:00 am lecture on time, I grab my book bag hastily lock my apartment door and fly down the slightly stained cement stairs. In less than sixty-seconds, I miraculously made it from the third to the first floor without falling. I congratulate myself and hop in my old reliable dusty gray, 2011 Toyota. At last, I arrive to campus just in time to park in the closest lot near the School of Nursing building making it to my first lecture of the day with ten minutes to spare. This seems like a small and normal morning routine for some, for others who do not have

Descriptive Essay About My Journey

My journey the day I left my home country in search of a better life was not as pleasurable or exciting as I expected. Although it was not a long flight, the accumulation of unexpected vicissitudes during the trip made my dream of traveling an absolute nightmare. Not only my sadness to be leaving my family behind, the uncertainty to fly alone and for the first time, or my inexperience with the procedures at the airport contributed to this calamity, but even my neighbor on the plane added his bit of sand in the affair. All this situation was such traumatic to me that I even considered never daring to fly again.

What Are Some Ideas For Creative Writing About Journeys?

Journeys can be incredibly inspiring and enriching, whether you’re planning one for yourself or looking at them from a spectator perspective. In this article, we’ve compiled some ideas for creative writing about journeys that will give you inspiration to write your own journey stories!

How to start your journey

1. Write about your goals for the journey. What are you looking to achieve? What your journey says about you?

2. Choose a location or places that inspire you and write about why they are special. Include interesting facts about the place or people who live there.

3. Create a character or characters who have a unique perspective on the journey, and explore their motivations for travelling. How do they differ from your own? Are they supportive or challenging?

4. Share your experiences as you take the journey, both good and bad. Are there any surprises along the way? How did you learn from them?

Why write about journeys?

Journeys can be fascinating and engaging topics for creative writing. There are endless possibilities for stories, poems, or essays about different types of journeys, from long road trips to life-changing adventures.

1. Write about a journey that you’ve taken yourself. What made it unique and memorable?

2. Write about a journey that has affected you deeply in some way. Why did it matter to you?

3. Write about a journey that you’ve seen or read about in another person’s story. How did it make you feel?

4. Write about a journey that has changed your view of the world around you. How has it altered your perspective on life?

5. Write about a journey that has challenged you in some way. How did the experience make you grow?

6. Write about a journey that has inspired you in some way. What did you learn from it that you can apply to your own life?

Tips for writing about a journey

To create a powerful and engaging story about your journey, start by considering these tips.

1. Find the purpose of your journey. What is the reason you’re traveling? Is it to see new sights, meet new people, or learn something new? Once you know the purpose of your journey, you can begin to explore the reasons why it matters to you.

2. Write with emotion. When writing about your journey, don’t just give a factual account of what happened; use your emotions to bring readers along on your journey. Share the good moments and describe the exciting experiences in a way that makes them feel like they were right there with you.

3. Use analogies and metaphors. When writing about a journey, it can be helpful to use analogies and metaphors to help explain things to readers. For example, when describing how travel changes someone’s perspective, say that going on a trip “opened [them] up” or “stretched [them] out.”

4. Be descriptive. When writing about a journey, try to be as descriptive as possible so readers can picture everything happening in their minds’ eyes.

How to write about a journey in a creative way

One way to write about a journey in a creative way is to consider the following questions: 1. What are the different aspects of a journey that you might want to explore? 2. What are some of the emotions you might feel on your journey? 3. What are some of the unique things about your journey that make it special? 4. What are some of the memorable moments from your journey? 5. What are some of the discoveries you make on your journey?

The different types of journeys people take

1. A journey of self-discovery

One great way to explore a journey is to look at it as a time of self-discovery. What are the lessons you’re learning on your journey? Are you discovering new skills or talents that you didn’t know you had? Are you growing in some way, both physically and emotionally?

2. A journey of transformation

Another great way to look at a journey is as a time of spiritual growth. What are your beliefs and what has this taught you? Are you discovering new ways of thinking or living? Are you opening your heart and mind to new possibilities?

3. A journey with friends

A journey can be even more special when it’s shared with loved ones. What memories will you create on this trip together? Will you laugh and cry together? Will a Journey of self-discovery bring you back together?

4. A journey into the unknown

On a journey, anything is possible. You could venture into uncharted territory, discover new things about yourself and the world around you, or go on an adventure that’ll have you exploring everything from the depths of the ocean to the top of the mountain range. There’s nothing like a voyageto open up your mind and broaden your horizons.

5. A journey of change

Every journey has the potential to bring about change. Whether you’re looking to learn new skills, find a new job or make some important changes in your life, a journey can be an incredibly powerful tool for achieving these goals.

What are some prompts for writing about journeys?

Some possible prompts for creative writing about journeys include: -A journey as metaphor for life itself -A journey as an opportunity to learn something new -A journey as an escape from reality -A journey as a chance to see the world from a different perspective -A journey as a way to connect with others

Journeys are a unique way to explore the world around you and experience different cultures, religions, and landscapes. Whether you are planning a cross-country road trip or simply taking small steps to explore your city, writing about your journey is an excellent way to capture all of the amazing experiences that life has to offer. What are some creative ideas you have for writing about journeys? Let us know in the comments below!

Source:- https://findbestforme.com/best-mfa-creative-writing-programs/

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Essay on “A Journey by Bus” Complete Essay for Class 10, Class 12 and Graduation and other classes.

A Journey by Bus

6 Best Essays on ” A Journey by Bus”

Essay No. 01

A journey by bus is dull and boring. Once we occupy a seat, we remain stationary there till we reach on destination. We cannot move freely in a bus. Heat in the summer and cold in winter make the journey troublesome and unbearable.

I seldom travel by bus, but this summer I had to travel by bus to Manali since the entire family was going on a summer vacation by bus. Our luggage was loaded on the roof of the bus and I managed to get a window seat, much to the envy of my cousins.

We left at 6 o’clock in the morning. The weather was quite pleasant. Sunshine was filtering in through the windows on the other side of the bus, so my side was quite cool. A cool breeze was blowing and it was very refreshing. All family members started chatting although a few elders tried to catch some sleep since everyone had woken up quite early.

We had packed sandwiches and cold drinks which we had for breakfast in the moving bus itself. It was a lot of fun since everyone had to pass the eatables on the bus. I was carrying storybooks, magazines and the morning newspaper with me. First I read the newspaper to catch up with the latest developments and then went through the magazine for some time.

It was lunchtime and we decided to stop at the roadside Dhaba is one of the villages of Punjab. The food was very delicious and different from what we eat at home. Everyone stretched their tired limbs and some people even lay down on the cots for some time.

After lunch, it became quite hot. I drew the curtain at the window and decided to sleep for some time. With a full stomach and rocking bus, I fell asleep within a couple of minutes. When I woke up I could not believe my eyes. The bus was negotiating steep curves and I realized that we had entered the hills. Tall trees cast their shadow on the road and a very fresh wind livened everyone up. The children started singing songs and the elders joined by clapping vigorously. It was getting chilly and we took out light woolen to cover ourselves. We refreshed ourselves with hot tea and started to enjoy the lovely scenery.

We could see terraced forms, small streams of water, and waterfalls running down the mountainside and the local hill people cheered whenever they saw our bus. There were apple orchards, plum trees, and tall chinar trees. It was like a dream come true and was just like the storybooks that we had read. As dusk started to fall, the conductor announced that we had reached our destination.

One didn’t know how time flew and this bus journey was very different from the usual dull and loving journeys. I will remember this bus journey all my life.

Essay No. 2

A Journey By Bus

It was a fine day. I decided to spend the evening at Connaught Place. I got ten rupees from my father. I left my house at 6 p.m. to catch the bus for Odeon.

I stood in the queue and waited anxiously for my turn in vain. I joined those who were struggling at the door of the bus. With great difficulty, I also got my chance to get on the bus. I got a seat. Hardly had I sat on my seat when I saw a very old man. He was standing near me. He looked very sad. I looked at him. I got up out of respect. I offered my seat to him. But to my great surprise, a fashionable young lady rushed towards the seat. She pressed herself into the seat. The poor old man looked at her helplessly. He had to keep standing. The lady felt no shame. She kept on looking at the poor old shamelessly. I felt very angry at her behavior.

The passengers inside the bus were talking loudly. Some were talking about politics. Some were talking of soaring prices. Others were discussing their personal problems. The family quarrels were the subjects of their talk. I was looking outside thinking about the sad incident.

The journey was not long. It was quite short. By now our burs reached Pant Hospital. There may people got down. May others boarded the bus. As usual, the bus moved on. An old lady began to feel giddy. She requested a young man to provide her with his seat. This proud young man refused flatly. This was very bad. We should show respect to ladies. Young ladies also should offer their seats to old and sick people.

At the Ajmeri gate, three passengers got down. They paid the fare. The conductor did not issue tickets to them. I got a chance. I said to the conductor. “Mr. conductor, you did not issue tickets to the passengers. You are dishonest. “With these words, I pulled the chain. The bus stopped. I asked the conductor to tear the three tickets. The conductor was perplexed. Some other passengers called him a thief. I rebuked him. The dishonest conductor felt ashamed for his dishonest act. He tore three tickets and threw them out. Again the bust started.

The bus was now running in New Delhi. My destination was quite near. At Minto Road, the driver applied the brakes suddenly. He saved a cyclist. All the passengers got a jolt. My head struck against a lady’s she cursed me. I kept silent. I got down at Odeon.

Essay No. 3

Delhi is a big crowded city. The Redline bus is the sole means of conveyance for the lower and middle-class people. Many people cover short distances on their bicycles. The rich people alone can afford to hire a scooter, a rickshaw, or a taxi because their charges are very high. The bus stops provide a busy scene at peak hours. The people stand there in queues and bear the scorching heat, the biting chill, and the raindrops pouring down. Waiting for the bus is the most unpleasant thing. One feels bored and disgusted. Everyone criticizes and curses the Redline owners and showers abuse on them and holds them responsible for the irregular bus services. The loose politics is discussed there and sometimes the same turns into a quarrel. A daily passenger of the Redline bus has a lot of bitter experiences to narrate if he has the time to do so and if there is somebody who finds the time to listen to him. The buses getting punctured or disorderly on the way tell upon the nerves of the office goers. The rude behavior of the conductors, the rash driving and the rush of the passengers, and the lack of direct buses are troublesome. However, early you may start for your duty, still to reach there in time is quite uncertain.

Last Sunday, I had a mind to see the film Jagriti at Natraj Talkies. My wife and children were pressing me hard for it and were waiting anxiously for the day. I had arranged to purchase the tickets in advance. The picture had to start at 3 p.m. It was not safe to reach the cinema hall on the two-wheeler. So I decided to hire a three-wheeled scooter. The scooter driver demanded Rs. 50, since the distance was 15 km. I had to change my mind and ultimately decided to travel by the Redline bus.

We stood in the queue at 1. p.m. It was lunchtime. There was no bus in sight. There was no breath of air, so the people were panting. Everyone was perspiring due to the scorching heat. We kept waiting for the bus impatiently for 45 minutes. A bus arrived. I asked my wife and children to board the bus. The driver stopped the bus a bit away. The people broke the queue and ran towards the bus. The bus was packed to its capacity. Luckily, I boarded the footboard. A few other passengers too got in. The conductor gave the bell and the driver started the bus. To my utter dismay, my wife and children were left behind. I asked the conductor to stop the bus. He showed no concern and paid no heed to my genuine request. He called me as a careless fellow. The bus had gathered speed. I had to jump off the running bus. I fell flat on the road. My clothes got soiled and torn. I got many bruises and got my ankle sprained. My children got worried and were crying. Anyhow, I reached them limping. My hair got powdered with dust. I was perspiring. My wife was in tears. She asked me to return home but how could I do that? I had spent Rs. 100 on the tickets and that amount would have gone waste. I cheered her up and picked up the courage for the next trial. It was 2-30. I was feeling pain. I had to take a glass of hot milk. There was no time to wash out the bloodstains from my clothes or to change my clothes. I was shocked to find my purse containing Rs. 160 missing. I did not break this news to my wife lest she should get more worried.

Luckily, an empty bus arrived there. I asked my wife and children not to lag behind that time. There were a great pushing and elbowing and somehow I forced them in. They occupied a seat and heaved a sigh of relief. I too got on the bus after some time. I asked my wife to purchase the tickets. I too sat on the seat. I noticed that one of the earrings of my wife was missing. My wife started weeping when I told her about it. We asked all the passengers and searched for the same near the seats. Then we left the seat and searched for the earring around the footboard and the ground but to no effect. Our seats too were occupied by our fellow passengers who were least concerned about our loss and injury. The tedious journey and the hollow preaching of the people only added to my grief. Our destination was near. I requested the driver very humbly to stop the bus. He gave a break. My wife and children had got down. I was limping in pain. The driver abused me for delaying the bus and started the same. I could not jump down that time. I was at the driver’s mercy. A few passengers came forward and forced him to stop the bus. He had to stop the bus against his will, half a furlong ahead. I joined my family bearing all the insults and pain.

The picture had started before we reached the hall. We could not enjoy the film since we had missed the introductory part. Only a little money was left with us for the cold drinks during the interval. The picture was over. We hired a scooter and made him the payment on reaching home.

I have come to the conclusion on the basis of my own bitter experience to avoid traveling by a Redline bus at peak hours especially when you are with your kids.

The Redline buses are mostly overcrowded. The conductors patronize pickpockets and men of loose morals. The honor of young ladies is always at stake. They present a scene of daily scuffles between the students and the conductors. Rash and reckless driving result in frequent accidents. Sometimes the drivers do not stop the bus at all and at other times they keep the bus standing for more than half an hour at the same place. A journey by a Redline bus is both time-consuming, uncomfortable, and risky for life. The conductors always try to overcharge the passengers.

Essay No. 4

Traveling by bus is the cheapest mode of travel. It is, therefore, the favourite transport of the poor people, and villagers, who prefer to travel by it. This in turn makes traveling a nightmare for a city dweller, which is not used to such kinds of the crowd. For some who are used to orderliness and cleanliness, a journey by bus is often very uncomfortable and full of hardships.

Last week there was a train strike and I had an Interview to attend. Left with no other option I had to travel by bus. On the appointed day when I reached the Bus Stand, I found that the ticket window was closed. I went and stood in the queue that had formed in front of it. It was a long wait. The window did not open for the next one hour. Luckily before people could grow restless, we saw the bus enter the terminal. As if on cue the ticket window opened. There was a mad rush to obtain tickets. People who until now were standing peacefully pushed and shoved each other to reach the counter. Some broke the queue and tried to forcefully buy the tickets. This made the people who were standing at the front of the cue to protest. And soon a scuffle ensued between some of them. Before they could resolve it, the bus gave a warning hoot. Somehow I managed to buy a ticket and board the bus.

The bus was an old one. The seats were torn. And fruit peels were strewn all over the floor. An old villager sat next to me. It appeared that he had come straight from his fields. Because he was smelling of manure and fertilizers. This smell was blown away from the wind that came through the broken window panes.

Soon the bus rolled out of the bus stand. When we came to the highway my neighbor in the bus lighted a beedi. I requested him to put it off. But my pleas fell into deaf ears. Fortunately, before the matters could get worse, he got down at the first stop. From there a young man got on the bus and sat down next to me. There-after the three hours of the journey destination went by like a second. And before I realized the bus had reached my destination.

My journey by bus had been a mixed bag of experiences. And yet I cannot say that I enjoyed it.

Essay No. 5

Most buses in the city are extremely crowded. The number of buses on the road is not enough to meet the demands of the growing population of the country. I am used to travelling in crowded buses but I would love to share my experience with you.

The ordeal of travelling in buses begins at the bus stop itself. Till the bus comes one has to wait patiently at the bus stop. There is every possibility that the bus might come late. Once the bus arrives all the passengers rush into it without giving the others a chance to get in. Lines are broken and there is a lot of pushing and pulling. Once one gets into the bus one is squashed from all four sides because people are standing in the aisle and all the seats are occupied.

Feet get trampled upon and no one even apologizes after stepping on your foot. It is almost impossible to buy a ticket because the conductor also is hidden somewhere behind all those people. People pass their money down the line and the ticket comes back to them the same way. Whenever the bus brakes there is a great push from the rear of the bus and all those standing in front begin to fall over each other. Pick-pockets, and eve-teasers have a great time doing their jobs while all this goes on. When the bus stop finally arrives everyone rushes out. There is pandemonium as the driver is told to stop. There is a lot of screaming and banging and shouting and if one manages to get down at the stop that one has to, it can be considered as a great achievement. Traveling on a crowded bus is an experience that can be and should be avoided if one can help it.

Essay No. 6

My uncle lives in Himachal Pradesh. He works in a bank in District Mandi. He got accommodation there provided by the bank. He had invited me to spend a holiday with him. So I decided to visit him during the summer vacation.

I got up early in the morning took up my bag and reached the ISBT Kashmir gate at 5 a.m. I boarded a DTC bus. I bought the ticket on the bus. At 5.30 a.m. it started moving out of the bus terminal.

As soon as it crossed the Delhi border it picked up speed. Soon it crossed Panipat and then passed by Karnal. At Shahbad it stopped for 15-20 minutes. The passengers got down and took snacks and drinks. Some went to the toilets.

The bus again resumed its journey. I looked out of the bus. We passed by fields and houses. At Ambala, a few passengers got down and some boarded the bus. Then it reached Chandigarh. It stopped there for ten minutes. Our next stop for lunch was a Kirtpur Sahib. There I had my lunch. Other passengers too did the same. After half an hour it again set out for is journey.

We passed by Swarghat. It is at a higher level. We were among the hills. The bus stopped for ten minutes. Some policemen boarded the bus and after checking the goods they got down.

Next, we reached Bilaspur. It was 2.30 p.m. The driver stopped the bus just for fifteen minutes. I ate some pakoras and took tea. Our journey again began at 2.45 p.m. I felt a cool breeze blowing I saw trees, houses on the top of hills, fields where crops had been grown. The scenery outside looked very beautiful. Below I saw water flowing calmly. Our next stop was Sunder Nagar. The bus went up in the town passengers got down it. A few local passengers boarded the bus.

The driver started the bus once again. We passed by many villages. Our bus along the Byasa River. Exact at 5.30 p.m. We were at the Mandi bus terminal. All the passengers got down one by one. My uncle was there to receive me. It was a nice journey.

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Journeys - Descriptive Writing

Subject: English

Age range: 11-14

Resource type: Lesson (complete)

Last updated

11 June 2020

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A lesson on writing a descriptive piece about making a journey.

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Journeys - Travel Writing

7 lessons on travel writing/ writing concerning travel. A nice mix of imaginative writing and transactional writing, excellent preparation for KS3 students going into KS4. Lessons include: Descriptive writing Writing informal letter Writing a postcard Writing a formal letter Creating a travel brochure Debate/group tasks with given scenario

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Writing to Inform, Explain and Describe

the journey, creative writing

The Journey

It was pitch black. Ben was just rousing after being knocked unconscious. How had he got here and, more to the point, where was here?

Looking around him, Ben could see nothing. No lights or windows were visible through the darkness. Feeling terrible, Ben slowly got up on his feet and stumbled forward until he hit a wall. He searched the walls for a light switch or someway of escaping from this unknown and terrifying situation. He was unsuccessful. All he found were lumps of moss, and some sharp rocks protruding from the wall. Ben slumped onto the floor and thought about how he could have arrived in this enclosed, lightless room.

It was a dismal morning. The weather was being kind to England for the middle of December, but it was a school day towards the end of term. It was quiet in the house. No noise could be heard other than three alarms trying hard but failing to wake up four very sleepy people. After hearing his ‘beep-beep, beep-beep…’ alarm for ten minutes, Ben finally managed to pull himself out of bed. He turned on the light, which blinded him at first, and went to the bathroom to wash.

When Ben had finished, he was met by an unfamiliar face. His sister Laura without makeup. Laura was thirteen, two years younger than Ben, and she hardly ever left her room, let alone the house without putting makeup on. It was quite a scary sight to Ben. She looked like a cross between a monkey and a pile of hair. She charged past him, into the bathroom and slammed the door in his face.

This is a preview of the whole essay

Usually, Ben would have got Laura back for that but it was too early in the morning. Ben went into his room and got dressed for school.

Ben’s room was not small, but it wasn’t large either. He had cupboards on the left, opposite the windows, and a bunk-bed, with a desk underneath, in the middle of the room. Well, it should have been a desk, but Ben just used it as a place to dump anything he couldn’t be bothered to put away.

Once Ben was ready for school, he went downstairs to have breakfast, where he saw his mum, still in her dressing gown, cooking him a big fry up. Bacon, eggs, sausages, beans, hash-browns, mushrooms. Ben’s mouth was watering. Having almost swallowed everything whole, Ben said goodbye to his mum, who was clearing up, to Laura, who shouted at him for disturbing her whilst she was putting on her makeup, and to his dad, who still hadn’t stirred from his slumber even though builders had started demolishing the house next door.

On his way to school, Ben passed the builders who had stopped working to decide weather to blow up the garage or just knock it down.

Ben met his friends at the bus stop and they all boarded the number 142 bus. They went to the same school and wore the same boring plain black suit with a white shirt.

The day went quickly for Ben. First he had maths, then a chemistry test that the previous class had gone through and left all of the answers on the board. English, Latin and history followed. None of them were Ben’s best subjects.

After lunch was sport. Ben was good at football and had managed to make it into the A team. He scored some good goals and was disappointed that football practice was only one hour long.

Ben and his mates took the bus home. When they were nearing Ben’s stop, several people were pointing out of the window into the distance. Smoke filled the air and almost completely blocked out the sun. Ben jumped off the bus and followed the smoke

Ben darted round the corner only to see a huge crowd of people around his house. He approached the crowd. People were talking. ‘I heard that the builders blew up the garage and accidentally blew up the house next door,’ one man said to another.

‘No, no, no. It was terrorists,’ another man said.

‘Or a meteorite’

‘Whoever or whatever it was, it was bad. A woman got trapped inside!’

At that moment, something inside Ben told him to run. He dropped his school bag and charged through the crowd. When he reached the house, he realised that the first comment that he heard was correct. The builders had misjudged how much explosive was needed and had blown up most of Ben’s house as well as the garage. In fact, where the garage once stood, was a huge crater filled with bits of burning car. Ben did not stop to look at the damage; instead, he rushed inside his own house and shouted,

‘Mum! Mum, where are you?’ there was silence. Ben scrambled over bits of house that had fallen into the hall, and ran into the kitchen.

‘Mum?!?’ The kitchen was almost normal apart from the fridge which had fallen onto the floor.

Ben ran upstairs and into Laura’s room which had a ‘KEEP OUT’ sign on the door. Ben chose to ignore it.

‘Mum?!?’ the ceiling collapsed. Ben ran into his room.

The smoke was now forcing its way into Ben’s lungs. He knew that he didn’t have much longer. ‘Mum?!?’ still no reply. He was about to leave when he saw her. Lying underneath his upturned bed was his mum. Ben tried to pull her out but all of his junk from his desk had pinned her to the floor. Smoke had got into Ben’s blood stream and was flowing around his body. He collapsed onto the floor. The room was spinning around. A pair of hands grabbed Ben’s mum and hauled her out from beneath the bed.

‘Mum!’ Ben squeaked. He was weak and slipping into unconsciousness. A different pair of hands grabbed Ben and pulled him towards the door.

‘Don’t struggle,’ a stern, evil voice said. ‘You will only make it harder on yourself.’

Ben passed out.

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Word Count 1019
Page Count 2
Subject English

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Claudia Looi

Touring the Top 10 Moscow Metro Stations

By Claudia Looi 2 Comments

Komsomolskaya metro station looks like a museum. It has vaulted ceilings and baroque decor.

Hidden underground, in the heart of Moscow, are historical and architectural treasures of Russia. These are Soviet-era creations – the metro stations of Moscow.

Our guide Maria introduced these elaborate metro stations as “the palaces for the people.” Built between 1937 and 1955, each station holds its own history and stories. Stalin had the idea of building beautiful underground spaces that the masses could enjoy. They would look like museums, art centers, concert halls, palaces and churches. Each would have a different theme. None would be alike.

The two-hour private tour was with a former Intourist tour guide named Maria. Maria lived in Moscow all her life and through the communist era of 60s to 90s. She has been a tour guide for more than 30 years. Being in her 60s, she moved rather quickly for her age. We traveled and crammed with Maria and other Muscovites on the metro to visit 10 different metro stations.

Arrow showing the direction of metro line 1 and 2

Moscow subways are very clean

To Maria, every street, metro and building told a story. I couldn’t keep up with her stories. I don’t remember most of what she said because I was just thrilled being in Moscow. Added to that, she spilled out so many Russian words and names, which to one who can’t read Cyrillic, sounded so foreign and could be easily forgotten.

The metro tour was the first part of our all day tour of Moscow with Maria. Here are the stations we visited:

1. Komsomolskaya Metro Station is the most beautiful of them all. Painted yellow and decorated with chandeliers, gold leaves and semi precious stones, the station looks like a stately museum. And possibly decorated like a palace. I saw Komsomolskaya first, before the rest of the stations upon arrival in Moscow by train from St. Petersburg.

2. Revolution Square Metro Station (Ploshchad Revolyutsii) has marble arches and 72 bronze sculptures designed by Alexey Dushkin. The marble arches are flanked by the bronze sculptures. If you look closely you will see passersby touching the bronze dog's nose. Legend has it that good luck comes to those who touch the dog's nose.

Touch the dog's nose for good luck. At the Revolution Square station

Revolution Square Metro Station

3. Arbatskaya Metro Station served as a shelter during the Soviet-era. It is one of the largest and the deepest metro stations in Moscow.

Arbatskaya Metro Station

4. Biblioteka Imeni Lenina Metro Station was built in 1935 and named after the Russian State Library. It is located near the library and has a big mosaic portrait of Lenin and yellow ceramic tiles on the track walls.

Lenin's portrait at the Biblioteka Imeni Lenina Metro Station

5. Kievskaya Metro Station was one of the first to be completed in Moscow. Named after the capital city of Ukraine by Kiev-born, Nikita Khruschev, Stalin's successor.

Kievskaya Metro Station

6. Novoslobodskaya Metro Station was built in 1952. It has 32 stained glass murals with brass borders.

Novoslobodskaya metro station

7. Kurskaya Metro Station was one of the first few to be built in Moscow in 1938. It has ceiling panels and artwork showing Soviet leadership, Soviet lifestyle and political power. It has a dome with patriotic slogans decorated with red stars representing the Soviet's World War II Hall of Fame. Kurskaya Metro Station is a must-visit station in Moscow.

Ceiling panel and artworks at Kurskaya Metro Station

8. Mayakovskaya Metro Station built in 1938. It was named after Russian poet Vladmir Mayakovsky. This is one of the most beautiful metro stations in the world with 34 mosaics painted by Alexander Deyneka.

Mayakovskaya station

One of the over 30 ceiling mosaics in Mayakovskaya metro station

9. Belorusskaya Metro Station is named after the people of Belarus. In the picture below, there are statues of 3 members of the Partisan Resistance in Belarus during World War II. The statues were sculpted by Sergei Orlov, S. Rabinovich and I. Slonim.

10. Teatralnaya Metro Station (Theatre Metro Station) is located near the Bolshoi Theatre.

Teatralnaya Metro Station decorated with porcelain figures .

Taking the metro's escalator at the end of the tour with Maria the tour guide.

Have you visited the Moscow Metro? Leave your comment below.

January 15, 2017 at 8:17 am

An excellent read! Thanks for much for sharing the Russian metro system with us. We're heading to Moscow in April and exploring the metro stations were on our list and after reading your post, I'm even more excited to go visit them. Thanks again 🙂

December 6, 2017 at 10:45 pm

Hi, do you remember which tour company you contacted for this tour?