Bob's Thoughts

On the steps of the Palace of Juctice

Since Kris and I ride public transportation for 20 hours a week to-and-from the National Archives, it is the sum of my report and weekly amazement. It was interesting to learn that the US State Dept advises US citizens not to use this mode of transportation.  However, I find the bus better than an E-Ticket Ride at Disneyland. 

Sunday night it rained for about 12 hours.  This was the first rain in 22 months and it was more like a light drizzle than rain.  But, what rain there was had interesting results. Bus drivers had fun and it was interesting to watch Kris attempt to get on our bus with an open umbrella.  Actually, she never made it that far. 

Our bus was stopped in the number two-traffic lane because it could not get to the curb. This left about 10 inches between buses in the number two and three traffic lanes.  I stepped on the bus just in time to see Kris struggling with her parasol as she was attempting to close the think.  She was yelling, “Bob! Bob!, I can get this thing closed.”  I grabbed the umbrella, pushed Kris on the bus, snapped the thing closed, and managed to jump on a now moving bus.    

Water had accumulated on streets and in gutters. The bus drivers were having great fun sending sheets of water into pedestrians on the sidewalks. This lasted for a few miles and I guess the preceding busses had used the small amount of accumulated water.  But, their collective antics were evident for miles.

On Tuesday Kris did not go into the city and I was on the bus alone.  I guess we have been ridding enough that we are recognized. Anyway, on the way home the driver ask me where my friends were. I said I was solo today.  He invited me into the seat next to him and gave me a cook’s tour of the better parts of Lima.  I saw the same driver on Wed. morning and he wanted me to get on his bus, but my friend Allen Lopez had not arrived at the bus stop. I said, "me amigo nod-a aqui." He waved and pulled away. 

I watch the bus activity with great interest.  There is an employee in charge of the door, collecting money, short changing North Americans, and yelling the name of the next important stop.  He is called a “Cobordoro.”  When a Cobordoro is not on board the driver will stop, jump from the bus, punch a time clock on the street, and right back on again in less than 12 seconds. Bus drivers are very courtesy to other busses, but don’t be in a car or taxi.  The busses also race each other from stop to stop.  At every stop the Cobordoro steps form the bus while the wheels are still rolling and yells out the most popular stops. Jockey Plaza, a large shopping mall, is a very popular stop.  It took me a week to realize the Cobordoro's name for Jockey Plaza was "ycky, ycky, ycky."  At each stop the Cobordoro also walks around inspecting tires and calling to passengers inside the bus to pack in as tight as possible.

I doubt there is any regulation or regular inspections of these busses outside the Cobordoro's walk around. I can often hear the grind of metal on metal when stopping and have seen the very worn tires first hand. I am sure the grinding I often hear is from worn out brakes. I have seen wheels fall off busses. The passengers just pile off one bus and pile on the next Combe. (Combe, Spanish for little busses.)

If we are seated at the rear of the bus, which we usually are, it takes a major transition of people and packages to get Kris and I to the exit. My problem is standing.  I am not able to see our location out the windows while standing and must call to the Cobordoro that we need to get off at Calle La Molina. At first I would get a quick glance and hope he knew what I wanted.  Now that we are seasoned travelers and well know by most Cobordoros, I get a look and a nod, that says, yes, yes Green go, I know.  So far, so good.   

Anyway, the rides to and from the National Archives take up a good part of our day, and are the most interesting trips in the world.  I have seen several assaults, many arguments, heated disputes and witnessed what I am sure are unreported traffic accidents.  Today, I gave up my seat to a short 30 year old lady who could not reach the passengers hand-hold bars. She was bouncing all over the place. The bars are shoulder high on me.  No wonder the State Dept advises US citenses not to ride public transportation.