Bogotá's transport truths

In every country, there are things that you get great pleasure from and things that utterly frustrate you. Some of those in the latter category are uncontrollable, such as weather and geographical features. 

Others though, especially human-related, can be altered in a positive way. That is, of course, if the desire exists. 

"I tried, but they just don't get it." Mrs Orangutan.

On all of the above, Colombia is no different to any other place. We have written on many occasions about a difference in attitude as regards relationships, in both friendship and romance, that exists here – a less honest one, perhaps, than what we are accustomed to (see http://bit.ly/LbcE9V & http://bit.ly/NsJyB5). 

This time around we’re looking at an area far less emotional but just about as frustratingly baffling. Let’s call it Colombia’s – or more specifically Bogotá’s – transport etiquette or lack thereof.

Now, before we get into it, we must state that we’re coming at this from, in the main, a country, rural perspective. So the impersonality and one-upmanship of a metropolis is still something we’re getting used to, if we ever do. 

That’s not to say, though, we’re ‘green’ on this front – far from it. We’ve seen enough of busy transport networks in both Medellín and Santiago de Chile, amongst others, to know it doesn’t have to be the ‘Bogotá Way’.

Take the Transmilenio (TM for short), the city’s pretty tame version of a metro. On the face of it this trams-on-wheels service should work sufficiently. 

It’s straightforward to use, serves a decent area of the city (the airport and its main artery apart – give it time, though, it’s in the pipeline, seriously) and is relatively cheap. The fact that it’s severely under-capacity, even at off-peak times, doesn’t help things, but that’s not something we’re discussing right now. 

In any case, that it’s struggling to cope with current passenger numbers is no excuse for the lack of basic manners by a large number of its users. Borneo’s orangutans would put many of these commuters to shame. Sorry, you’re right, that’s a bit unfair to our intelligent primate cousins.
 

There are two related behavioural patterns by TM users that irk us. 

Firstly, while waiting at the station, people will stand in front of the entry/exit doors in a bid to be in a prime position when their bus arrives. 

The fact that there might be at least five arrivals before the bus they need pulls up doesn’t seem to bother them. No, they just stand there like dummies, making the fluid movement of other passengers extremely difficult. Cattle mart stuff. Their obvious lack of intelligence means they mustn’t realise the inconvenience created by their frozen-like stance.

'Going nowhere fast' - passengers waiting to board a Transmilenio.

So while it can be an almighty struggle just to get on the bus when/if you squeeze in, you’re faced with the on-board version of the muppets at the station. 

People – we use that word loosely here – who will not move away from the TM door. 

Again, they may not be actually getting off until later stops, but they ‘must’ stay right at the door, even when there is space further inside, for fear that they’ll miss their destination. Some even take umbrage if you politely ask them to move aside while you’re battling to board. Wonders never cease.

Bogotá’s other main public transport system – colectivos and busetas, the standard South American city buses – is perhaps more representative of Colombian life in general. That is, it’s a contradictory muddle of the delightful and the truly irritating. 

For one there exists this strange habit for local commuters to opt for the aisle sit. Not a big deal you might say, but when you consider that there’s more room to manoeuvre in a rugby scrum than in many of these buses, things can get tricky. 

Throw in the reluctance of many aisle-seat occupiers to stand up to allow you pass to the window seat and it all gets a bit messy. It’s much easier to either move in or stand up to let someone by but it seems some Bogotá bus users love to have random people’s bums shoved in their faces. It’s not something we’re keen on, however. 

Usually it's better to take a colectivo. Sometimes, though, it's best to walk.

Contrast that with the very honest (no, that’s not a typo) practice when the bus is packed, as frequently happens. Passengers will board via the exit door at the back, passing their fare via a chain of people to the bus driver. If there’s change to be given, it will come back down along the chain to the passenger. Wonderful.

Then there are the bus ‘drivers’ – themselves not immune to such paradoxes. That they speed around like rally drivers high on cocaine can be both a good and bad thing. 

If you’re in a hurry, it can feel like they’re trying to get you to your destination asap. But the constant sharp breaking and swerving – well, let’s just say it puts some of the world’s best roller coasters to shame. 

Add in the occasional road-rage exchange with a counterpart and the result is a potent mix. Passenger safety how do. When these guys’ blood is up, their vehicle becomes a weapon. You’ve just got to hope that your driver comes out on the winning side.

Yet despite all this, most of these conductores still have the heart to allow you jump on their bus for just two-thirds of the standard fare. All you have to do is wave a 1,000 pesos (less than €0.50) note at them, the recognised sign that you can’t afford more, and usually you can jump on, no hassle. This we very much like. 

Indeed, all things considered, we find the colectivo experience far more acceptable – and cheaper – than the Transmilenio one. Just mind your bum when taking that window seat.