Bussing Yourself (Vol. 2)

        After riding public transportation in Nicaragua for about a year and a half, I feel comfortable saying that there exists an unspoken etiquette between and among the drivers, cobradores (conductors), and passengers.  Because this etiquette is so particular, it’s very easy to stand out as a foreigner if you don’t follow the code.

        Riding a bus out of Santa Lucía is generally quite nice once you know what to expect.  There are almost always open seats and it’s pretty much a given that there will be someone you know if you’re feeling chatty.  When you get on a bus that you take regularly, it’s common to greet the driver and people that you know with a friendly “Buenos días” and maybe a few weak Nica handshakes.
        I usually look for the nearest open seat next to a window that isn’t the uncomfortable one with the wheel well, but alright I’ll settle for that one in a pinch.  Most of the time I plug in the headphones, fire up the iPod, and catch up on my podcasting, but I’ve also been known to read a book or even talk with people.  It must be said though that the most common pastime for any passenger on a bus out of Santa Lucía is sleeping…and sleeping hard.  It doesn’t matter if you’re 9 or 90, people just seem to pass out on the busses, myself included—head back, mouth agape, snoring.
        At various points during every trip, it’s the job of the cobrador to pass up and down the aisle collecting the pasaje, the fee.  From Santa Lucía to Boaco, the price is 15 córdobas, but when I first arrived way back in 2010 it was 12.
        Se subió el precio, que barbaridad…
        So if you aren’t completely passed out asleep, as a passenger with a good sense of bus etiquette you’ll try to have the money ready when the cobrador passes, and you’ll try to have it as close to exact change as possible.  500 cord bills are generally looked down upon.  They’re difficult to break.  I try not to pay with anything higher than a 100.  Nothing screams GRINGO like paying with high bills.

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        Outside of my comfort zone, travelling by bus becomes a bit more complicated.  It can be striking how little questions are asked on busses; not many foreigners take public transportation in Nicaragua, and I would venture to guess that at least 90% of the passengers on all bus rides in the country take that particular bus regularly or have taken it before.  In effect, this means that most passengers know exactly what they’re doing and therefore do not generally have doubts about when to get off, how much it costs, etc.  And por supuesto, there are no maps or schedules—that information is learned and stored in the collective consciousness.
        If you want to blend in and not draw too much attention to yourself as a foreigner travelling in Nicaragua (always a good way to avoid trouble), the best case scenario is to already know where you’re going, when to get off, and basically how much it costs.  Unfortunately that can’t always be the case.  For me, most travel outside of Santa Lucía and Boaco comes with a certain amount of unknowns, so it’s important to be able to figure stuff out without seeming like a total n00b.

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        Every bus has a starting point and a final destination, both of which are usually written quite clearly on the front and back of the bus (Boaco-Managa, for example).  If your final destination is also the bus’ final destination, there’s no mystery there, you just wait till the bus stops and everyone gets off.  You can assume you’ve arrived.  But if you know that you need to get off at some point between where you got on and the final destination, you’d better tell the cobrador as soon as you can so he knows to tell the driver to stop and let you off.
        If you get on a bus that is standing room only (a very very common occurrence), there are a few unspoken rules to follow.  You should try to go as far back in the bus as you can, that way you can see easily when someone leaves and a seat opens up.  You also want to make sure there’s room to put your bag on the rack above the seats.  It’s no good to have a backpack on while standing in the aisle because it makes it even tougher for people to squeeze by you.  If the racks are full, you can put your backpack on like a frontpack.
        As a stander, if you’re worried about impeding on what might seem like the personal space of someone sitting in a seat, have no fear—rest assured that personal space does not exist on Nicaraguan public transportation.  It’s absolutely acceptable to lean with your entire body weight on a complete stranger.  And if I had a córdoba for all the times I’ve been seated on a packed bus with someone’s boobs or crotch or butt right up in my face, making itself very known, I would be definitely be at least 100 cords richer.
        Another thing that may surprise the unsuspecting foreigner is the utter urgency with which people get on and off busses.  If a bus pulls up and you’re waiting to get on, don’t expect for the people waiting with you to form an orderly line.  No one is thinking, “oh we’ll all get on eventually, I’ll just relax.”  On the contrary, everyone is thinking, “get the *%$# out of my way, I want a seat.”  It’s the same getting off.  On an airplane, those in the back generally wait for those towards the front to get off.  On a bus in Nicaragua, people in the back push those who are in their way until they get off.  It is literally survival of the fittest.

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        Despite the prevailing cutthroat attitude, I’ve noticed at least one lovely and endearing aspect of bus travel that can be seen, especially in rural areas, and which hints at strong underlying traditional values.  If a viejito or viejita (old people), or a mother with a small child gets on and the bus is full, it is fairly common practice to give up your seat for them.  This warms my heart and I try to do it as much as possible.
        Even though travelling by public bus is rarely comfortable, it is also rarely boring.  It shapes the lives of many Nicaraguans who use this form of transportation every day to go to work, to go to class, to transport goods, and to visit family and friends in other parts of the country.  As someone who thinks it necessary to understand and be a functioning part of another culture in order to work within that culture, I’ve also found travelling by bus to be a big part of my own life in Nicaragua.


        In the next installment of Bussing Yourself we will, if you’ll be so kind as to humour me, consider the merchants, peddlers, and beggars that frequent public transportation in Nicaragua and valiantly attempt to name all of the cosas de horno.

• Bussing Yourself (Vol. 1)