broken down buses

I am convinced that buses break down on more trips than not in these countries. The first time I took a bus in Guatemala, I really didn't have a clue what I was getting into. At that point my idea of budget transportation was booking a flight on easyjet or Ryanair instead of British Airways. Not taking ground transportation on a rusty, rickety old bus with a broken windshield that showed up a half hour late (standard) and then proceeded to drive around for an hour to six other houses to pick up everyone else up before we ever left the town.

But, that's all part of the adventure. Especially when it breaks down halfway there, and the driver asks you to all get out and push start it, only to get it going long enough to stop again about a half hour later, this time on a very busy motorway on the edge of one of the most dangerous capital cities in the world. Always a good place to be standing as a group of obvious foreigners in the grass in the pouring rain while we waited for a replacement. The guy actually wanted to keep driving, but we had to ask him to stop. Seriously, the lights were flickering, the windshield wipers were moving at the speed of a snail, and it was pouring down rain. He tried to remedy this by using a towel, a flashlight and his arm out the driver's side window, but that was clearly not cutting it. (I'm not making this up, people....)

I honestly didn't know what to do with the whole thing except laugh. I know, it's a strange reaction, some people were really panicking. A normal reaction. Panicking, for their bags, but more so, for their body parts. (Guatemala City is... Guatemala City.) I was obviously concerned, but I realised there was absolutely nothing I could do about it so I just hid myself in my raincoat hood and umbrella and quietly laughed.

My experience with Cambodian breakdowns was equally annoying but much more relaxed. I had been on this overnight bus from Sihnoukville to Siem Reap for 10 hours when it came to a stop. I was actually sleeping, finally. It was light outside. Great, we are here. No. Wait. This is not a bus station. This is the side of the road. Ugh. Seriously? We must be really close. I am supposed to go to work this morning. And this guy next to me smells, and I really want off of this bus. I step off. One look at those guys taking apart the entire bus did not inspire a lot of confidence.

Look, I don't think I am invincible, and I use my head. I also trust my gut. I was not sitting on the side of that road for 4 hours while they fixed that bus. At 7am, it was already blazing hot, and I had hardly slept. Plus the only reason I took that bus was so I could show up at work that morning like I said I would. I knew we had to be less than 30 kilometers away, especially when I saw Soben drive past. Soben is the 'driver' at this place I work. He drives like a maniac, so he is hard to miss. I love him - we don't get too far in conversation in English, actually, we really just have one joke together, which is to say good morning to each other in the afternoon. (You have to find humor somehow, even across language barriers.)

I would have never done this in Guatemala. (Still wouldn't, actually.) But I didn't hesitate for a second in Cambodia. I walked down the road until I found someone who spoke English (this took a while), told him where I wanted to go, and 10 minutes and a little bit of bartering later, his father appeared as my new 'taxi' driver... in his personal car which he had to take the cover off of. I found 3 other people to come with me so I wasn't alone and 15 minutes later I was at my desk.

All part of the adventure, like I said...