A Gringa's Survival Guide to Public Transportation
Everyone in Tacna uses the bus from high-up businessmen, to frail abuelitas, to awkward teenagers. You pack all passengers in as tightly as possible, sardines in a can, and inexplicably, in spite of so many bodies, the bus ride can often becomes a game of Graveyard, everyone staying as quiet as they can. Of course there’s always the rogue passenger who decides it’s their turn to blast their Youtube video from their phone at full volume, but for the most part, buses are a moment in which we stop talking for a little while, and just sit. This human silence may seem especially jarring in a city where there is always noise, when there is always an old vehicle rumbling by or a child crying. But the act of sitting together opens the door for something new, something intimate that we have little access to in the busy-ness of the city. In these moments of quiet, I take a moment to look around at the people around me. It’s a wonderful opportunity to unashamedly people-watch; a strange mix ...