The Wheels On The Bus Go Round And Round

Transportation here in Cusco is, to put it gently, a bit of a beast. If you're not a resident Cusqueño with your own car, you basically have three options to get from point A to point B: walk, take a taxi, or brave the bus (called a combi here). Each comes with its very own special set of risks.

Walking has been, for the most part, my transportation method of choice. After all, I'm on a limited budget here, and Lord only knows when those 2 soles it takes to ride in a taxi (the equivalent of, oh, $.60) might come in handy. Actually, I just like it because it's good exercise and a chance to take in a bit of the city. Thing is, walking in Cusco is a mildly hazardous activity. For one, the amount of air pollution is pretty terrifying (think billowing clouds of black smoke pouring out of delivery trucks) and makes my eyes water in the morning. For another, crossing the street is a bit like running a gauntlet, mostly because traffic rules here, as in Rome, are "more like a suggestion" than actual laws that anybody need follow. In other words, those nice little lights with three colors? Yeah, completely useless. The dogs, as mentioned previously, are a constant presence, and I'm just waiting for one of them to go berserk and bite me in the leg. Then of course, we have to take into account that it's the rainy season and thus, the potholed streets are full of muddy water that the millions of taxis can splash onto the sidewalk without any warning whatsoever.

Speaking of the taxis, though, those things are quite the adventure. I've only ridden in them twice - once on my way from the airport to my house, and once with some friends on our way from the market down at the bottom of town to the Plaza de Armas up at the top (hills at this altitude toward the end of the day are quite daunting). These taxis are basically just old Corolla station wagons, and when the gears shift, the cars jolt like they're about to roll over and croak. The seats in front have seatbelts, but if you're riding in the back seat, best hold on for dear life because you're liable to be bounced out the window by an exceptionally large pothole. Did I mention the doors sometimes fly open if you forget to lock them? Not that it's happened to me, mind, but my host mom gave me fair warning.

And then there are the combis. I've yet to try them, mostly because they scare the hell out of me. Cusqueños appear to like Toyotas, because the combis are those old Toyota vans that kind of look like kitchen appliances on wheels. As far as I can tell, the main goal of the combis is to fit as many people inside as possible, sort of like a rolling game of sardines. They pull up to the curb with a little boy hanging out the slider door on the side, yelling something in Spanish so rapid that I still can't decipher it, and then, before I have time to register the fact that a new combi has arrived, it's left again. I think I might get hurt if I tried it. I need a little longer to "find my Latin American self," as my program so kindly advised me.

In the meantime, I have an umbrella, a pair of Ugg boots, and a waterproof Patagonia jacket that, lo and behold, actually IS waterproof. Walking will do just fine.