I am pretty sure getting used to the public transportation in this country is about as successful as getting used to dentist visits… it doesn’t really happen.
And I don’t really know if I have just lost the initial luck of getting into “good” guaguas or what – but lately I have had some seriously bad suerte with getting around.
It really all began with a trip up to my friend’s site on the other side of Moca. We had arrived fairly early to the bus stop so we sat baking in the back seats until a line of women climbed in, took one look at us and then began cackling about how hot was that day.
I had the great fortune to sit in the back right pocket of the van smashed against the side and partially hanging out of the window. I knew before we were out of the city that there was going to be a problem.
We stopped to fuel up and arrange the luggage piled on top. The latter was performed by nudging a foot between my dangling arm and window brace. It took him about ten minutes balancing there for the situation up top to be fixed only to have a bag fall off has we lurched forward… my friend’s bag.
We bounced along the crappy streets and out of the city before attempting to charge uphill – 20 passengers strong. The engine wasn’t having it. The driver downshifted to practically nothing, and we blazed up and around the hill.
It was about the third turn that I felt the side of the guagua give a little. It was a subtle movement — one that I thought my just be in my imagination or a sensation conjured up by a weak stomach.
It was about the third time I felt the give that I saw the volunteer in front of me jump away from the side.
Something was wrong.
A misjudged attempt to cross a speed bump later… and I realized that with every give, an opening would form where the back door and side of the van met (otherwise, right behind my blessed seat).
My friends thought it was hilarious. All I could think was, I paid for this ride?
To be honest, I’ve been in worse. I’ve been in guaguas that have broken down, that have been held together with rope and that have been so packed that they have bottomed out on dips of a few mere inches…
Each time, I can only laugh thinking about how unsurprised I am. It’s even more hilarious to consider how many complaints people give about buses back in Austin – not arriving exactly every 10 minutes, being dirty, etc.
Here, you leave when the ENTIRE bus is filled most of the time – even if you have been there for hours. And most guaguas are so old your hind quarters find themselves flopping on the bars beneath the cushions as if there was nothing on top of them to begin with.
The truth is, most days, I feel like my projects would benefit from me having the ability to get from point A to point B without having to sit in an old lady’s lap.
