Hi! I hope you had a good rest and that you are relaxed. It’s always good to be caught by surprise, rather than anticipating what you always feared. Just come with me. If you ask me to explain, I won’t even look in your direction. Just enjoy the rides!
This is known as the “Terminal” – not quite correct Spanish, but the buses give you a clue. Each bus has a private owner – the driver, and an assistant who collects your bus fare. The driver drives and the assistant shouts, collects your fare, runs for his life to board the bus after allowing you to hop on, stacks your huge hoards of stuff that you are lugging around from pillar to post, and is responsible for cleaning the bus. There is no such thing as a bus ticket – that is what you call “litter”.
The first time I went to the terminal, men were standing and sitting on benches, and everyone that I passed roared at me. I look around not wondering what to expect next. Some time after I realized what this shouting was all about. IBARRA . . . . OTAVALO! They were being so considerate and were punting for my business – to ride on their bus, and they were announcing their destination. Now that’s cool! I rode in the bus the other day and there was only one seat available. I noticed on my right hand side a little “room”. It said, “Urinario solo para Senoritas”. Hop on – I am going to show you how really smart our buses are. I have been in buses in South Africa, Canada and the USA, and they are disgusting compared to OUR buses.
Now drool a bit. Plush, adjustable seats; curtains to shield you from the sun, or if you want to take a quick nap – which we often do. And do you see a TV – and the radio is not visible. Dogs and chickens ride for free. But hang on that is not the end.
Vendors start arriving. Helados! Helados!
A guy comes along. Gelatina! Gelatina! Then comes Mr. Bean. Mr. Candy. Mr. Music CD; Mr. Potent-looking-liquid that cures every disease, and attracts crowds. A musician jumped on and strung on his guit. with all his might, went around collecting for his performance, reappeared and complained bitterly that his donations were so meager, and then proceeded to go down the isle once more so that we could show our appreciation. An elderly man came along with a piece of string, and did “string tricks”; another came along with some well-handled candy, and he was smelling of alcohol, and then told us what he thought of us for not contributing. What I am really saying here, is that employment is so difficult to find, that people will humble themselves to the most meager task they can find, in order to generate a few cents.
Let’s take a look at the cost of bus fares here. A trip to Otavalo takes about 40 minutes, and costs 25c. Ibarra is further away in the opposite direction and takes about 50 minutes and that costs 45c. To get to Quito takes close to 3 hours for the sum of $2.20. An eleven or thirteen, and even a sixteen hour trip in a luxury coach – $9.
During this ride to Otavalo, a really funny thing happened. I young man, coming from the back of the bus, wanted to get off at a certain stop. He had a packet hooked over his left arm. In his rush, he kept banging everyone on the head with his packet of goods. The last one to collect a blow on the head was a gringo. Now why did he turn around to see what was happening? It resulted in his glasses being knocked off, and his wife catching them in midair. I roared with laughter, and as I passed him in the bus, I bent down and said, “Remember the Ecuadorean packet has more right than you, your head was in the way”.
Transport by means of a bus is a rife business. There is very little indication where the bus stops (paradas) are, many times, a bus stop is where you stop to get on. Here is a bus stop – can you see it?
The bus travels along one of the most hair-raising routes that you could ever imagine. It is a very narrow, winding road, the road reaching the end of a precipice that plunges down to a dizzy depth. To make it worse, it is a two-way street. Can you imagine two buses passing each other? One wrong move and the bus is down and we are under. In fact, some months back, while driving a busload of people in the early evening down this winding dirt road, the bus driver’s cellphone rang, and as he reached for it, he missed the sharp turn and the bus careered down the cliff, killing 7 passengers. Since then part of the mountain has been cut away, and the road broadened. But it remains a treacherous road. I often wonder how long it will be safe to travel with all the soil erosion from the rains. Unfortunately people live along that route, and many have no means of transport.
The majority of people will greet you as if they have known you for ages. It’s the culture here. This 17 year old has become my friend. He is a young man trying to find some sort of income to help him with his studies at university. And he speaks English very well, indeed! “!Hola, mi amigo! !Hasta luego!” – “I’ll see you again”. . . on my next post on transportation.
Thought for your Tour:
Jesus did not enjoy the comforts of a bus, car, taxi, or any other vehicle. He walked wherever He went. But how magnificently He was transported into Heaven! On a cloud! Can you imagine that? And guess what? One day He will be coming back to earth to fetch His children – descending on a cloud! How we are going to worship Him when we see that glorious sight! Ponder over this glorious scene for a while:
“He was taken up, and a cloud received Him out of their sight. And while they looked steadfastly toward Heaven as He went up, behold, two men stood by them in white apparel, who also said, “ . . . Why do you stand gazing up into heaven? This same Jesus, who was taken up from you into heaven, will so come in like manner as you saw Him go into heaven.” (Acts 1:9-11)
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