Everyone Wants Our Calling

The Public Bus System

Kris suggested I relate our bus activity for the past two days.  This seems to have become my area of expertise anyway. (I keep her safe.) I can honestly say I have saved Kris from serious injury more than several times during the past week.  And have explained the importance of not jumping on any old bus several times.

The buses here are color coded to some extent, but there are several markings that are important, like the titles on the front. The buses pull up to curbs eight or ten every three-minutes and often there are five stopped at once. They all jockey for position and every Cobradoro yells out his next few stops. It is total confusion.  Kris got on the bus in front of our apartment and before she could grab the handrail the driver was off. Kris ended up sprawled in the lap of two male passengers.  The bus drivers just kept his foot on the accelerator and Kris was helped back to her feet.  Kris was embarrassed, but there was not much she could have done.

Yesterday, Kris jumped on a bus before I had a chance to tell her it was not the correct one. I jumped on behind her and we were off.  I ask the Cobradoro if the bus was passing a critical intersection and he replied, see.  But, I was not sure of the route that was going to be taken to get us where we needed to go.  It worked out.

This morning an identical bus pulled to the curb and Kris got on.  We had not gone three miles and we were off our normal route.  After passing several depressed area, with not so nice looking Peruvians standing around, we got off the bus and caught a taxi.  I told the taxi driver where we wanted to go, and got a blank look.  When I gave him three more locations and he still did not respond, I pulled out my street guide and pointed to a location.  He promptly tuned the map upside down and gave me another blank look.  Kris was in the back seat; some taxi drivers engage the child door locks so you cannot open the doors, and its not for safety reasons, so I always ride in the front seat. Kris said try the Sheraton Hotel maybe that will work.  I got a positive look from the word Sheraton and after a 15-minute trip we got out at the National Archives.  Kris promised she would not get on a bus without my permission. 

On the way home tonight, we were running a little late and Kris stepped off the curb as the light was about to change. I had her arm and gave her a sharp tug as a taxi whizzed by at 30 mph.  I reminded her of my 30-second rule concerning Lima pedestrian roulette.  As we got to the bus stop, Kris had promised she would let me pick the bus.  We were there about three minutes and the correct bus pulled to the curb, along with five other buses.  I walked to the door and tuned around, no Kris. I looked and she had her camera up to her eye taking pictures.  I yelled, well called out, to her and slapped the side of the bus hard. I have seen the Coboradors use it as a signal to wait longer.  Kris, with a surprised look, pulled the camera from her eye and made a dash for the bus. 

All in all it is lots of fun and we both like what we are doing.  We are the only North Americans I have ever seen riding public transportation, and many Senior Missionaries who spend 8 hours a day ridding a desk want to trade us assignments. 


Our photography work is reviewed each week in Salt Lake and every Tuesday we get an e-mail report card.  Last week we copied 14,128 records without a single error.  (Errors consist of poor contrast, out of focus work and a number of other things that we are responsible to check.)