Recent smells on the bus

Here is a list of smells that I have had opportunity to experience on the bus from my town to the city of Santa Bárbara:
1. rotting cabbage
2. old man refried-bean farts
3. fermenting coffee beans
4. baby
5. vomit
6. cologne on any male adolescent on board, always overdone just a bit
7. the ubiquitous body odor of people from the campo
8. feet
9. manure

In Defense of Transportation in the 3rd World

 Upon re-reading my blog post about riding buses in Honduras, I feel that I’ve unfairly excluded some of the positive aspects. The following is thus a brief defense of public transportation here. Read only the bold sentences if you want to get through this quickly:


-In the first place, public transportation can take you to just about any place in the country, including the smallest villages. The vast majority of people in Honduras use the public transportation system as opposed to driving their own cars. According to the survey I did of my town last year, only 6% of people here reported owning their own car. (It does seem, however, like most people in my town at least aspire to having their own car, but as it stands, it’s prohibitively expensive to buy one and much more so to pay for gas and maintenance.) The positive consequence of this dependence on public transportation is that Honduras’ carbon emissions are immensely and responsibly low. Not to mention, Honduras isn’t involved in the messy politics of the Middle East like America (though I won’t go into their recent history with Venezuela).


-Public transportation is cheap. It costs me L28 (just under $1.50) to get to Santa Barbara from my town, about two hours down the winding and steep mountain road.


-On my town’s bus, as is probably the case in the rest of rural Honduras, people often use the chance to catch up with friends and neighbors and sit quietly and politely chatting (and gossiping) for the entire ride. For the most part, it’s a refreshingly friendly experience. True, things get a little less friendly once you get onto buses between bigger cities, but it’s almost never hostile.


-Passengers are usually surprisingly helpful to strangers. More than once, my bus has stopped to let passengers hop off to help push stalled cars on the side of the road. When would a public bus ever stop to help another vehicle in the States? Also, people will help other passengers move heavy bags or hold kids in their laps if there’s no more room to sit. People will give up their seat to elderly people and women with children. If the bus is struggling to make it up a steep stretch of road, passengers seem happy to get off and help push or pull! In the States, people would most likely get angry and probably consider calling their lawyer.


-There’s no need to wait at a “bus stop.” In fact, that concept doesn’t really exist: You can flag a bus down anywhere along the road and get picked up. The same works for getting off. Just yell out “baja” (the equivalent of the impersonal “someone is getting off here”) and they’ll stop and let you off, helping you with bags if you need it. Of course, the dark side of this is that you can be in trouble if you’re trying to get anywhere in a hurry.


-If you’re hungry or thirsty at any point during your travel you won’t have to wait long for someone to offer to sell you tasty greasy/sugary food or drink. Same goes with needing pills for anything from mental slowness and forgetfulness to back pain, new toothbrushes or a chip for your cell phone, or God. It’s practically foolish to pack considering all the things you can purchase while on the bus.Ultimately, people take riding buses here as part of daily life and are much less worried about regulations and cold efficiency as we are in the States.


Cheapness is mainly what’s important. That and upholding a sense of empathetic communal support (ie ‘we’re all on this bus together’ type of thing). So I’d say it’s only fair to consider all the negative stuff I mentioned in my last blog post with all this good stuff when talking about riding buses in Honduras. But when it comes down to it, I still miss the freedom of having my own car.

An unusual evangelical sermon on a bus

I was sitting on the already-packed and hot bus in Santa Barbara waiting for the driver to finish lunch (or whatever) to take us home. Amid the ten-year olds coming and going selling Coca Cola and deep-fried plantains stepped on board a well-dressed thirty-something year old man. He had on a tie and a man bag on the shoulder. And, unusually, he started to preach.

Let me clarify. If you happened to have read my last post about riding buses in Honduras, you already know that it’s not entirely unusual for people to get onto buses and start preaching, praying, speaking in tongues, generally proselytizing, incoherently yelling, blabbering, and/or spitting. Usually they’re spitting, I guess. And the common themes of their brief and fiery sermons are one or several of the following:

1) IT’S THE END OF THE WORLDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!

2) Don’t follow in the footsteps of those greedy sinners in countries like the United States [read: it’s God’s will for you to be poor and Americans are evil]*

3) Muslims, gays, women who wear pants and the like are doomed to eternity in Hell.

*the ironic part is that most of these preachers belong to various Pentacostal denominations based out of the “sinful and greedy” United States and thus receive their paychecks straight from churchgoers in the US… for me, the irony is that, listening to some of these guys, it’s as if I’m back in the Bible Belt again

Needless to say, these common bus sermons (and “sermons” may be a little bit generous here) don’t usually end up making me hop up out of my seat and run to the nearest Evangelical church. Some people listening, though, shout out halleluiahs and amens, some give the preachers cash, nobody seems as put off by it as I am, but generally people are kinda indifferent.

Anyway, this particular fellow in Santa Barbara who started preaching was nothing like what I’ve become used to: He was quiet, well spoken, seemingly quite educated and open-minded, and, most surprising, wasn’t radical in anyway except for his lack of radicalism. He talked about how we all have sinned and how we should seek God in our own way, not to be pressured or fooled by judgmental denominations that are “wolves dressed as sheep.” It was a nice, simple message that I felt okay with.

Then, he closed his Bible and pulled out a couple new toothbrushes from his bag and asked who was interested in “buying quality toothbrushes for the low, low price of 2 for L10.” Alas…

Riding buses in a third-world country

Traveling on buses in Honduras, just like probably in any third-world country, is almost always guaranteed to provide… let’s call them interesting experiences that are either immensely frustrating or hilarious, depending on the traveler’s prior amount of sleep, general outlook on life that day, and current mood at the time of travel:

• Buses can be old and rickety, usually 30+ yr hammie downs from US school districts, churches, and senior citizen groups.
• Buses are usually way, way, way over-packed.
• You are likely to be sitting next to someone who doesn’t recognize your right to personal space (though I’ll admit that on very rare occasions you can get lucky and this person will be a cute Honduran girl with twinkling eyes and a skirt, excited to be sitting next to a genuine gringo).
• There may be barn animals aboard.
• People will probably toss trash out the window without giving it a second thought (but really, what else can they do with it?).
• You may be stopped and searched by police officers if the driver doesn’t bribe them first.
• Schedules probably won’t be followed as efficiently as you’re used to, understating it a bit.
• Full-fledged riots may ensue while boarding the bus… unsuspecting little old ladies have been known to throw elbows and bite.
• On all hot days (okay, and most of the rest of the days too), strong smells protrude from fellow passengers, perishable cargo, the over-heating engine, afore-mentioned barn animals and babies.
• Apparently horribly desperate vendors urgently rush up to stopping buses and yell out what they are selling as they shove their baskets up to the windows (and thus into my face if I my window happens to be open, which it usually seems to be).
• If you’re a foreigner (which, thanks to my ubiquitous freckles, I certainly qualify) children, old people and most everyone else sitting near you will probably spend an average of at least twenty minutes an hour openly staring at you, mouths usually slightly agape.
• Inebriated individuals may come on board an make a loud scene, even if you may be napping;
• Some of the afore-mentioned desperate vendors may come on board and make loud sales pitches in the aisle, even if you may be napping.
• Evangelical preachers may come on board and give loud and threatening sermons, even if you may be napping.
• Despite music playing on the bus stereo system, teenagers and young adults will most likely be blasting raegeton music from their cell phones, making an infuriatingly loud disturbance, even if you may be napping (ie this is a recurring theme).
• Bus drivers will probably be talking on their phone while driving way, way too fast, while changing the radio station to either ranchero (or 80s American pop) and/or eating messy baleadas.
• Finally, and seriously, your bus may break down, be assaulted by armed gang members, or crash.

I’m sure I could go on for a while longer with this list. These were just the first things that came to mind.

Public transportation is certainly cheap in Honduras, but I suppose you get what you pay for. Safety regulations are nothing more than jokes on paper far away in the capital. Culture surrounding public behavior and common courtesy is very different here than in the States. And the word ‘schedule’ is not quite understood.

Most of the time, I try to keep a positive attitude, be patient and flexible, laugh instead of cry, and keep a low-profile while traveling on buses, as they urged during our training. Honestly I do try. But it’s really hard sometimes, especially when I catch myself thinking about the terrible things that could happen at any minute. But don’t worry Mom; nothing terrible has happened to me on a bus in Honduras. (yet…)