Being lost and finding the bread crumbs

Always the question when on the bus is where I am to get off. The problem is that I’ve never been where I’m going and there are often not signs to tell me when we’ve gotten where I want to go. Sometimes I ask the driver when I get on, and they will then indicate to me when it’s the stop I want. Other times, like today, I asked a fellow passenger at some point if this was Esclusas de Miraflores-the Miraflores Locks. She sat across the aisle from me, so I lurched gracefully across to ask as the seat cushion I had vacated temporarily slid forward-clearly not attached! She said no and indicated it was a ways up. So when I thought it was the right stop, I looked to her for confirmation and she confirmed it with a nod of her head. The connection to other humans is sometimes simple and even as tenuous as the seat cushion’s position on its frame, but it frequently makes a significant difference in my day when it happens. What a difference it makes when you know where you are going! Coming home, I knew where I needed to get off the bus and this made for a relaxing ride, other than the various bodies that came and went on the seat next to me. The chicken buses are converted school buses, and this one had unequally sized seats. The left side had longer bench seats with room for about 2 ½ adults, and the right side had shorter seats with room for about 1 ½ adults. The only problem is that I don’t know any adults who can be split in two physically. So when the bus gets full, there’s some real intimacy. The seat covers are the color of chocolate mud and the vinyl covering most is ripped and patched. I first shared with an old man who was headed home to a distant town. He said it would take him an hour and a half to get there. Then a young school girl, and then a big muscular man with whom I shared a brief discussion about the commute. I had noticed that I got different vibes from the different seat partners, and I wondered how much of it was just my perceptions, and so I endeavored to have some sort of social interchange. The weather (hace calor!) or traffic (hay mucho trafico) generally sufficed as my test group. Look for the resulting thesis on newsstands near you soon.