Ode to the Colectivo

(Just a few observations while soaked from head to toe, but luckily found an available seat in the back of an unusually empty bus for rush hour in the rain.)


Have you ever experienced anything so frenzied?

It feels like a race to get to everyone’s personal version of hell.

An aspect of Argentina that’s so organized, the single-file line that could stretch for dozens of meters.

It will wrap around an entire block and yet porteños will patiently wait, adhering to this unwritten rule, only to be abandoned when you actually make your way upon it, shoving, pushing, squeezing.

You’re on your own, Che.

The lack of personal space is startling. Is that your bag on my lap? Sure hold the same handle my hand is gripping as we jolt forward and backward, side to side.

It’s getting close to that time. Make another squeeze for it. 

Just hope that it comes to at least a rolling stop long enough for you to make your escape.



(My next post will be a bit more sincere about the bus systems here.)

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