Coindence on Bus No. 348

Bus!
Originally uploaded by Blue Dragonfly Girl

Yesterday, my supervisor was going to pick me up and give me a ride to the place where part of my internship will be spent. But, things worked out differently. Instead she gave me directions over the phone about how to take the bus.

I was standing on the street corner, so I had to try to hear her despite the rumbling of trucks passing by. I repeated the information back to her a few times just to make sure I understood. I had the name of the bus. The name of the street, the # of the building and the cross-street.

So, I waited. And it was hot. Yes, it's still hot here. Really hot. Like Robbin-Williams-talking-about-how-hot-it-is-in-Good-Morning-Vietnam hot.

I have some fear to overcome regarding buses: Essentially, when you don't know where you're going, how do you know when you've arrived?

This makes me nervous. And so if I can avoid taking buses, and I'm no different in the United States, I will. 

Also, bus stops here do not list the numbers or names of the buses that come through them. Neither do they announce stops.

So, it's a challenge. One that I do want to overcome. It's a matter of personal pride. I also would love to get to the point where I can pretend it's always been easy-as-pie get around on buses in Porto Alegre, especially since this is apparently one of the best bus systems in Brazil.

I found a bus map a few weeks ago and initially I was thrilled. But then I realized that I still couldn't understand it. Ha! Today over breakfast I brought it out again just to take a look. I was mesmerized but not comprehending much.

One of the students at the hostel, from southern India, saw me in the kitchen staring at the map. He asked me if I was American. He told me he thought I wasn't Brazilian, something in my face gave it away...and also the fact that I had unfolded a huge map of the bus system onto the breakfast table. That too had clued him in, he told me.

So, there I was waiting for my bus to come in. I desperately wanted to take out my bus map even though I knew it won't help me and clearly would make it really obvious that I wasn't from around these parts. [Side note: Part of the advice I get it about city-life here is to try and look like I'm not foreign when traipsing around the streets of Porto Alegre. That and don't wear gold jewelry or stuff that looks expensive. And always carry my bag over the opposite shoulder and in front of me.]

I didn't know the bus number at the time, just the name, Bento Gonçalves. It's also a street name. So there were lots of other buses passing through that listed Bento Gonçalves as one of their stops. I kept getting tempted but I held out until this specific one arrived.

Luckily, it did. When I got on I asked the bus driver if he was going by this certain cross street. He directed me to the cashier, who I paid R$2.30 and asked to please advise me when the cross-street was reached. He nodded looking somewhat non-committal.

So, after some twists and turns on different roads, we starting driving down Bento Gonçalves, As I understood it, the building I was looking for would be on this street. I was pretty excited to see that many of the buildings were clearly numbered. Ha! This would be a piece of cake. I could totally do this on my own! I'd probably be getting off in about 20 blocks exactly.

And indeed, right about the time that I stood up, thinking I should get off the bus, the cashier advised me that this was my stop.

I was a few blocks past where the building should be and so I backtracked. Only to discover that at the number I was given was a mechanic's shop. No building on either side or nearby that looked like it might work with youth.

Hmmm....

Then, I realized that the building I was going to must actually be on the cross street and that would correspond to the number my supervisor gave me.

And so it was.

It was a complete coincidence that the street numbers on Bento Gonçalves were so similar to the cross-street.

In the end, I certainly needed the help that the bus cashier gave me. Amazing that it worked out so well. However, without that lucky coincidence and the assistance of the cashier, who knows where I could have ended up, sweating under the hot Porto Alegre sun?

But, point is, I made it. And I later made it home, on a different bus, that had a different bus stop, but at least it was one where I could orient myself and get to where I needed to go.

So perhaps, I shouldn't be so scared of these buses. They'll always get me somewhere and slowly I'm learning to recognize when that somewhere is close to where I live or want to go.