Like Letter, No. 2

Dear Municipal Bus of Porto Alegre,

I didn't expect to be writing you again so soon. However, after yesterday's events, I am certain that you read my first letter and were determined to test exactly how much I liked you. Or at least how much I was willing to let go and enjoy the ride.

It all started when I rushed out of the Cesmapa office located way out there practically in the countryside, and I saw you driving away. "Run!" said the girls at the bus stop and so run I did, crossing the street, past folks enjoying the afternoon as they sat in chairs outside the convenience store.

Unfortunately, I'm no Forrest Gump and away you drove around the pretty sunlit corner leaving me panting in the distance. The folks looked at me from their chairs with bemused expressions as I walked past them again, a block back to the bus stop.

I sighed and laughed. You wouldn't be coming by again for another hour. I was going to miss my appointment.  But what could I do? I didn't know. I couldn't afford a taxi that's for sure.

I grinned sheepishly at the girls as another one of you pulled up. "This one's going to the center too," they said, "...eventually." They drew maps with their fingers of all the twists and turns you would take before you even started heading where I needed to go, which was already good 30-40 minute ride to begin with.

I was a little concerned about this, seeing as I needed to be at a meeting at the university in exactly one hour and 15 minutes. I asked your driver how long he estimated this ride might take. "Don't worry," he said, "In a bit I can drop you off at a bus stop that will have other buses passing through going straight to the center."

"Ok" I said and laughed at my silly situation as I gave my money to the clerk. Well, it wasn't that big of a deal, really. Hadn't I always said that I wanted to have the time to get on random buses and get tours of parts of the city I'd never seen before? True, I had. You must have read my mind and wanted to give me this gift. Ha, or at least that's what you're saying now.

And for a half hour it was lovely. Really, I mean it. We were rattling down red dirt roads with little shacks and green trees. It was hard to remember that I had woken up that morning in a city because I certainly wasn't in one now. As those girls had illustrated quite correctly, our path was not a straight line. The bus even had to back up several times to get out of the roads it had gone down.

Eventually, after twists and turns and a return to paved roads, your driver stopped and walked off you  with me, telling me that from here I could catch a bus downtown and it would be much quicker this way. He brought me to a man in uniform with a clipboard listing all the buses and the minute they'd arrive, who nodded in agreement that this was the place for me to be if I wanted to get where I wanted to go.

This bus stop stood in the median of a gray stone road, open to incoming and outgoing traffic. I couldn't see far because of all the foliage and had no idea what this road led to. It looked like a grand colonial style building off there in the distance. Nearby, a man was selling grilled meat under tent. Another man with no legs, in a wheel chair, with a pile of dried herbs next to him. People were everywhere. On the sides of the road. In the median. Some looked like they were just there for the entertainment and might not actually be going anywhere.

An older woman asked many questions of a little girl, her parents standing nearby but not participating, practically ignoring the older woman. Stray dogs wandered amongst the people. Sometimes barking at each other, then running off together. People kept inquiring about buses with the man with the clipboard. "It'll be here in 3 minutes," he'd reply in a friendly tone. Generally, he was close to right. There were just so many of us on this covered platform and we all seemed a bit odd.  I felt as though at any moment I might discover that I'd just walked on the set of a surreal play.

Eventually (leaving me only 30 minutes to get to my appointment) another one of you pulled up at the stop. The man with the clipboard, pointed at you and told me that you were the one for me. And on I went. I sat through this ride intermittently recognizing where I was. But I also started to wonder where exactly in the center of the city you might leave me. As you know, downtown Porto Alegre isn't that small. I might have to take a cab. And I didn't have a phone number for the woman I was meeting. I had no idea if I'd arrive on time.

I was a little nervous but also just amused. Staring out the window. Staring at my watch. Crossing my fingers as we got closer to the center that you would go down roads that I knew. And you did! I have to like you for this, don't I? You didn't have to be so nice to me. But you took me right to the bus stop I needed to get to and you let me off with five minutes to get to my appointment. I briskly walked to the department, jumped in the elevator and strolled into the 6th floor office at precisely 6:00 PM.

Wow. Was I cool or what? Yeah, yeah, I know that it's really due to you, testing me and all that to see if I really trusted you. Well, I did trust you. I mean, what choice did I have?

But the best part of all of this was that when I opened that door to the office, my colleagues looked up at me. Then they looked up at the clock. Then they laughed and said, "My God you're just like the British. Look at you walking in here exactly on time. To the minute!"

I looked at them and said, "You have no idea!" And then told them all about my adventures with you.

I appreciate that you took it easy on me today during my four bus rides. That was compassionate of you. Though -- and please don't take this as a sign to increase the rate of adventures I have while on you -- yesterday was fun.

Sincerely,
Libélula Azul