Seven buses. I had to ride 7 buses and one taxi on Thursday. Actually that's about to be standard for my Mondays. (Well, 8 buses and no taxi). Thursdays are normally only 6.
I used to be afraid of public transportation, and no I don't just mean in foreign countries (although the language barrier never helped.) I think I only ever rode the bus in Durango about 2 times, and I was never alone.
What was I so afraid of? Did I think I would get on the wrong bus and end up somewhere impossible to return from? Yeah. Did I think I would feel stupid if I didn't know when to get off or if I didn't have the right change or if I had to ask if this was even the right bus? Yeah sure. And was I afraid I might have to talk to a stranger to let me out of the seat. Ok, yes that too. So that all seems pretty silly right? But see I have this bizarre fear of the mundane unknown. I will happily jump on a plane to a foreign country on my own or try some crazy exotic food, but when it comes to those little, easy, everyday things, I am hesitant at best. What if I fail at this simple task that all these other people do all the time? Basically, I'm afraid of looking and feeling stupid.
I know. I know. Stupid huh?
I can happily announce though that I have actually conquered the bus-based fear. Of course I say conquered like I had anything to do with it. A fear of the unknown does become a little irrelevant once that unknown becomes...known.
Now I step up on that bus to San Jose on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, I find a window seat if at all possible, I wiggle around and get comfy and I promptly pass out. It's 6:30 in the morning for goodness sake! I always wake up in time to get off again an hour later. I did miss my stop by a minute or two once. But then you just get off and walk back. Big deal.
I got on the wrong bus once too (two weeks ago actually). Before I moved I would catch the bus to Barva by the grocery store where a lot of the buses would pass. I have to catch that bus about 4 times a week so needless to say I would almost have to be trying to get on the wrong one. I wasn't trying. Apparently I just can't read where it is going when I am running along beside it. I just jumped off when it turned left instead of going straight. Fortunately the walk to Barva really isn't so bad...and I was running early.
And last Thursday (7 bus day) I had to do something new. I had an idea where to go, but maps and directions in this country are like opinions; everyone has one and reality can often be irrelevant. I got to the stop that I thought was right based on the information I had and I waited. All the buses that passed in that 15 minutes were going to the right final destination. They just weren't passing by where I needed to be. I finally fought back my returning fear of talking to strangers in a foreign language and asked this kid if my bus came by here. He didn't know but the little angel asked the next grumpy driver for me so I didn't have to open my still-fumbling mouth. Turns out I needed to be on the other highway that runs parallel to that one. I navigated my way over there and waited patiently by the sleeping homeless man until, at last, my bus came!
So I guess all this is just to affirm that I, Sara LittleCloud Knight, am no longer irrationally afraid of getting on the bus. I can focus my fears on more reasonable targets: like the general disregard nearly all drivers in this country seem to have for the lives of others, or the suffocating proximity of other passengers on that 5 o'clock to Barva, the impending possibility of robbery, and of course the first time I have to order pizza at that one place that looks so yummy.
