In the states I share a vehicle with strangers only when flying, or to avoid paying $4/hr to park in downtown San Francisco. However, after two months in Chile, I have not sat behind a steering wheel once and yet still have access to almost anywhere I desire in a country that boasts a 7833 mile-long boarder. This isn’t to say it is always easy to get where you want to go - it took Anna and me 2 hours this weekend to go 45 kilometers (29.2 miles). Public transportation in this country comes in all shapes, sizes, flavors and odors. On the surprisingly posh end are your long-distance bus rides that put Greyhound to shame (at least I assume, as I’ve never been on a Gray Hound bus). If you’ll remember from earlier posts, Anna and I recently traveled to the southern city of Valdivia. This is an approximately 10-hour bus ride, which we undertook during the night so as not to lose a day traveling. While an overnight bus ride might seem harrowing, it was surprisingly comfortable. There are generally three classes of seating on these types of trips ranging from semi-cama (cama meaning bed), to premium. Being the rugged (cheap) travelers that we are, we went with the low-priced option. However, even the semi-cama lives up to its name with cushy chairs, plenty of leg space and even an extra leg-rest that folds down from the seat in front of you to complete the semi-bed. This last accessory can best be described as a padded boogie board that fits perfectly between the edge of the seat and the floor to support those of us with bad knees. I would even venture to say that a night on one of these buses rivals a night in my bed in Santiago, although this probably speaks more to the quality of our mattress than that to the seats in the bus.
On the opposite end of the bus spectrum are “micros” that travel between rural towns and through the outskirts of Santiago. These machines, despite boasting the Mercedes Benz brand name, are anything but luxurious. They will stop anywhere when flagged down, even to pick up vendors hawking mystery candies or some playing-card-calendar gimmick, which I haven’t quite figured out yet. Often the micro drivers will be blaring music ranging from reggaeton (a Latin combination of reggae and rap) to covers of Ave Maria and Michael Jackson performed by Andean pipe instruments. And while the major bus companies are equipped with digital tickers that inform passengers of how long the driver has been behind the wheel and if he is below the legal speed limit, micro drivers are free to do as they wish. In our most recent micro ride, the driver seemed determined to keep his mechanic employed by testing his shocks on every speed bump and his breaks at every intersection. You would expect motorists to pass buses, but on this occasion it was the other way around with our trusty conductor zooming around pickups and sedans on straights and on blind-and-mute curves, all on his mission to reach the next stop in record time. On one occasion he even passed another micro that may have actually serviced the same route. This experience reminded me of Harry’s bus ride at the beginning of The Prisoner of Azkaban (don’t pretend like you didn’t see it - http://youtu.be/uhguwCSnIZc). Anyway, micros are always interesting, and while we haven’t shared a ride with any livestock yet, we may have seen a street dog disembark from a city bus once, no kidding.
Finally, the metro. Santiago features, and greatly depends upon, an extensive and heavily used subway system with which you can access all corners of this sprawling metropolis. The metro is remarkably safe, clean and efficient. I have never had to wait more than 8 minutes and often the interval between trains is less than your average TV commercial break. Generally speaking this is a reasonably pleasant way to go, but when traveling during rush hour one must leave any sense of personal space at home. A can of sardines comes to mind as a trite but appropriate metaphor for the daily commute for many Santiagans. I made the tragic and somewhat ironic mistake of trying to escape the city for the hills last Tuesday at 8:30am. I watched four trains full of salted fish pass by before enough space opened up for the crowd to surge forward enough to pack me into the waiting car. Once inside a crammed train car the temperature rises and Chilean’s love for perfume becomes apparent as the various chemical odors mix to overwhelm the nostrils. It is during these occasions that even Anna is happy to be tall as we enjoy a view of heads of the crowd rather than the back or chin of your nearest neighbor. And I can’t complete a description of riding the metro without conveying what a fellow Fulbrighter calls a “moon landing”. Possibly one of the more uncomfortable interactions one can have with a stranger on public transportation, where you are pressed tightly back-to-back with someone of similar stature. And trust me, it is much more awkward when you have a name to put to it.
Well that about wraps up public transit. I didn’t cover plane flights, but next week will be our first experience with Chilean air travel this time around (stay tuned for our blog(s) on the Atacama Desert). I could write an interesting account of our experience on a Columbian airline during our last South American trip in 2007, but that bird has flown so to speak. Until next time, que dios te acompañe.
No comments:
Post a Comment