Reflections from the Bus

I’ve been doing less interesting things of the big variety this week, which has been good for me. My classes are starting to pick up in intensity and I’m having a hard time keeping up in some ways. Part of the problem is I feel like I have no idea what I should be doing for homework half of the time. This is not conducive to making sure I have said homework done by the time class rolls around again.

One of the things that has me most stressed out right now is my ICRP (Intercultural research Project, for those of you who are not yet in the know about that acronym). Instead of putting all the K students who have to do the ICRP into one class like they have been doing for the last umpteen years, they decided to throw us into the service-learning classes for the regular Ecuadorian students. Which is all fine and dandy in theory, but so for doesn’t seem to be working out too well in practice. The idea was that the Ecuadorian students could help us find places to work and we would get more immersion time. Instead, almost all the Ecuadorians are working at the same place, which we can’t work at, and we now have to fill two different sets of requirements. I’m still trying to secure a place to volunteer, and I’m not having any luck so far. Fingers crossed that things improve.

I did get the chance to do something interesting last Sunday. My family took me to an agricultural exposition. For me, it was interesting to see all the different agricultural products that Ecuador has (as compared to the US), and what people do with those products. If the exposition had been during my last week here, I think I would have bought a whole bunch of food items to bring back to the states. As it is, everything would have had to sit around for another 5 months, so I decided not to buy anything.

Today, while I was on the bus home, it started to rain. It doesn’t actually rain that much here in Quito. The climate is a bit dry, but they do get their fair share of rain storms. Today’s was a soaker. By the time I got to the bus station, it was raining pretty hard, and it soon turned into a torrential downpour. Waiting in line for my bus, the two tiny ladies in front of me beckoned me over to huddle up under the roof “for warmth.” I think they also wanted the big American girl to block the wind. We were huddled way under the terminal’s awning because the wind was blowing the water in. By the time I got off the bus, the roads had become rivers and in places there were foot-deep lakes to wade through. I crossed the street at a run and managed to keep my shoes relatively dry, but it was difficult. The drainage system here just couldn’t handle the rain. Not to say that it can really manage much rain at all. Quito is so hilly, it must be a nightmare trying to send the water anywhere. We are in a mountain valley to boot, so there’s really nowhere for the water to go except straight into town. I suppose it eventually could head downhill to Cumbaya, but it has to go through the whole city first.

Starting tomorrow, I have a whole weekend of fun planned out for me by my study abroad program. We are going to visit one of the smaller mountain towns called Otavalo. Otavalo is known for having a great market where nice things can be bought very cheaply. Our group is very excited about the trip and I don’t think any of us can wait until classes finish tomorrow so we can all set out on the trip.

I think it’s time for some more of Sara’s observations in Ecuador. Today we will be focusing on the world from the perspective of a daily bus rider. It really is interesting to take the bus and see all the different people and how a set system works within the culture here.

For the most part, every bus here has the radio playing. Or something. In any case, there’s almost always music. The type of music is totally dependent on the preferences of the driver and the bus boy (or girl, as the case may be). Sometimes there’s totally American music playing. Today, for example, Ke$ha was playing when I got on the bus back to Quito. The other day, it was “Hey, Soul Sister” by Train. More often though, the music is Latin American, and even though occasionally the drivers seem to like sappy romantic songs, the majority of the music is basically salsa music. This often gives me the feeling that there is a soundtrack to my life. Which is cool. The music just fits well with the scenery and the general feeling of taking the bus in Quito, and it’s fun to imagine that it’s all a part of some big story that’s important enough to have a good soundtrack.

Another integral part to understanding the bus system here is the payment system. This system is not consistent (just like most things here), but it really ties everything together. On my first bus (from home to school), I pay right away when I get on. There’s the driver, and a lady (on this route all the bus boys are actually ladies) sitting behind or next to a cash box. She takes your money, gives you a ticket, and you walk through the in-bus turnstile to go find a seat (if you are lucky). Once we get to the station, everyone gets off the back door and hands their ticket to one of the station workers. From there, I don’t have to pay again to get onto the transfer bus between the North Station and the Rio Coca Station. We all just file (more like push and shove) on, from a platform this time, and try to find a seat. This bus only has a driver, and can only be entered from a platform because the doors open and drop down a ramp that stops a good two feet off the ground without a platform. To get on these busses, you have to go to a station, or one of the special stops in the middle of the street. The very middle. There’s special bus lanes in the middle of major streets that lead up to these platform stops which are only used by these busses. My final bus is a lot less organized. There’s a driver and a bus boy (I think I’ve only seen one of these busses where the bus boy was actually a girl) and it varies how they make you pay. You never pay when you get on, that’s for sure. Sometimes they ask for your money as you step off the bus, at other times they collect part-way through the ride to Cubaya. Depends on the bus boy, since it is his responsibility. The drivers never collect money, they have enough on their hands driving a bus on these streets. On the way home from Cumbaya, the bus boys always collect during the ride. The transfer bus is the same, but I pay to get into the station, and don’t have to pay again for my final bus home. The method of asking to get off the bus also varies. On my first bus you have to press a button unless you want to stay on until the bus reaches the station. The second bus stops and every single stop, so there’s no actual asking to get off. And on the Cumbaya bus you just walk up next to the driver and he will stop for you.

There’s a certain culture to taking the bus here too. If you’re a guy taking the bus by yourself, you better be ready to hop on or off a moving bus because they won’t stop. It you are female however, there’s a certain amount a flirting involved that causes them to stop the bus completely. That flirting ends once you’re on though, even if you don’t have your bus legs on yet. The drivers and bus boys are very accommodating for the young and the elderly though. If there is an older gentleman or woman getting on or off the bus, the bus boy will help them out. Or, if there is no bus boy, sometimes another rider will take it upon themselves to be of assistance. I have also seen a bus boy pick up a small child and carry him off the bus so that he wouldn’t fall. People do look after each other here, even if they do expect you to have good balance.

Most of my experience with street vendors has actually been on the busses. One of the more disturbing things about this is that many of the street vendors who get on the busses to sell their various products are actually children. There’s a boy who gets on the Cumbaya bus almost every day selling the Extra section of the newspaper. And he’s certainly not the only one. This last year, I took a class on child labor and the lack of childhood education in the world, so not only do I have my natural bad reaction to these child vendors, but I have a whole 10 weeks worth of factual information to make it worse. It’s just one more example of the major class differences here, and one more example of things that exist in this world that I would like to change. I’m not really sure what I can do to help them change right now, but maybe some day I’ll have a better idea. That day may even be soon, who knows.