The Wheels on the Bus Go 'Round and 'Round
Who here can remember those old cartoons of the cars and trucks that had personalities -- you know, the front grills looked like teeth, and the big trucks were the monsters, and the sporty cars had curves in all the right places? No, I'm not talking about the movie "Cars," as much as I loved it. These were really old cartoons in the style of Steamboat Willie. I thought about those cartoons today as I rode the bus home.
I don't usually take the bus because I like walking, but today I was tired, and I was carrying some heavy bags from the market -- cauliflower and red peppers and fresh strawberries -- mmmm. So, I took the bus.
The bus system here is a good one, and there are buses of all shapes and sizes. There are giant double buses. These are not double decker tour buses, which do exist here. I ignore those as tourist anomalies. The double buses are double-long with a flexible "hinge" between sections of the bus like two metro cars stuck together with a giant vacuum cleaner hose. There are only a couple of major bus routes in town that use these. The normal sized buses, which in Granada are bright red, have about twelve different routes throughout the town. Next there are the charter-style coach buses which run back and forth between the airport and the city. These are blue.
Coach buses in various colors are also used as school buses here -- go figure -- upholstered bucket seats and air conditioning were certainly not a part of my school day memories! We used to rush to sit in the back of our old yellow school bus so we could bounce up and down on the bench-style vinyl coated seats to prime ourselves for the big BUMP at the old bridge. Timed just right, the force of the bump combined with the pre-bump bouncing could launch your head right into the ceiling of the bus. We did strange things for fun back in the old days.
The bus that comes by our apartment is smaller than the standard buses in town. There are three lines that use these mid-size machines, which only seat about ten people. You can fit a couple dozen folk in there, standing, but sit-down space is severely limited. These smaller buses are essential in the oldest parts of town where the streets are very narrow. It's actually pretty remarkable how the drivers maneuver through the tiny roadways, and miraculous that more pedestrians don't die every year "aplastado" by careless bus drivers. (You didn't need a translation for that word, did you? I didn't think so. Onomatopoeia reigns in all lands.)
It was on one of these smaller buses, the 34 to be exact, that I noticed how animal-like vehicles can be. More than once, our alpha-bus stared down smaller creatures, who quickly and subserviently backed away to make room for us to pass. I half expected one little service truck to toss out a liter of petrol as a peace offering to our rumbling beast. Not even the taxi-jackals want to mix it up with the buses. Many of these narrow streets are two-way, even though there's only room for one car to pass at a time, especially when multiple cars are illegally parked on the sidewalks. Bus drivers are well trained in the automotive chicken-fight, and know how to intimidate with size. I suspect the rubber "gills" on those double-long buses might even inflate like a blow fish for an even fiercer appearance.
The people inside the buses, however, are remarkably civilized. The silent law of respect is carefully and instinctively followed. When an elderly person gets on the bus, especially an abuela (grandma), people leap from their seats to make sure she doesn't have to stand. An elderly gentleman with a cane gets almost the same level of attention, with the exception that if he waves away the offer of a seat, no one will argue with him. I have watched teenagers, fully dressed in rebel garb, pierced and tatooed and dyed to the max, tenderly guide the elbow of a stranger to make sure that little old lady has a place to rest. No one has to ask. No one has to remind. It's just done.
And it's not because these little abuelas are all that fragile, either. Some of these women, all 4'10" of them, are built like linebackers and can totally take you down with a single grocery bag if you get in their way. I learned that lesson thirty years ago in the seedy metros of Madrid, when I was young and foolish and untrained in the laws of the jungle. It's all about respect and the long-established tradition of honoring your elders and showing deference, especially to older women.
Spaniards have the ultimate respect for their mothers, even if they disagree with them. The profound Catholic tradition here which demonstrates itself in supreme reverence for the Virgin Mary is undoubtedly behind that fact. Truth be told, it doesn't stop Spanish men from being Lotharios, or from cheating on their wives. They don't really make that connection. But, put them in a crowded space with limited seating, and those same cads will move heaven and earth to make sure not a single gray-haired woman is left standing. I mean that in a good way.
Maybe they just know who the alpha-females are.
I don't usually take the bus because I like walking, but today I was tired, and I was carrying some heavy bags from the market -- cauliflower and red peppers and fresh strawberries -- mmmm. So, I took the bus.
The bus system here is a good one, and there are buses of all shapes and sizes. There are giant double buses. These are not double decker tour buses, which do exist here. I ignore those as tourist anomalies. The double buses are double-long with a flexible "hinge" between sections of the bus like two metro cars stuck together with a giant vacuum cleaner hose. There are only a couple of major bus routes in town that use these. The normal sized buses, which in Granada are bright red, have about twelve different routes throughout the town. Next there are the charter-style coach buses which run back and forth between the airport and the city. These are blue.
Coach buses in various colors are also used as school buses here -- go figure -- upholstered bucket seats and air conditioning were certainly not a part of my school day memories! We used to rush to sit in the back of our old yellow school bus so we could bounce up and down on the bench-style vinyl coated seats to prime ourselves for the big BUMP at the old bridge. Timed just right, the force of the bump combined with the pre-bump bouncing could launch your head right into the ceiling of the bus. We did strange things for fun back in the old days.
The bus that comes by our apartment is smaller than the standard buses in town. There are three lines that use these mid-size machines, which only seat about ten people. You can fit a couple dozen folk in there, standing, but sit-down space is severely limited. These smaller buses are essential in the oldest parts of town where the streets are very narrow. It's actually pretty remarkable how the drivers maneuver through the tiny roadways, and miraculous that more pedestrians don't die every year "aplastado" by careless bus drivers. (You didn't need a translation for that word, did you? I didn't think so. Onomatopoeia reigns in all lands.)
It was on one of these smaller buses, the 34 to be exact, that I noticed how animal-like vehicles can be. More than once, our alpha-bus stared down smaller creatures, who quickly and subserviently backed away to make room for us to pass. I half expected one little service truck to toss out a liter of petrol as a peace offering to our rumbling beast. Not even the taxi-jackals want to mix it up with the buses. Many of these narrow streets are two-way, even though there's only room for one car to pass at a time, especially when multiple cars are illegally parked on the sidewalks. Bus drivers are well trained in the automotive chicken-fight, and know how to intimidate with size. I suspect the rubber "gills" on those double-long buses might even inflate like a blow fish for an even fiercer appearance.
The people inside the buses, however, are remarkably civilized. The silent law of respect is carefully and instinctively followed. When an elderly person gets on the bus, especially an abuela (grandma), people leap from their seats to make sure she doesn't have to stand. An elderly gentleman with a cane gets almost the same level of attention, with the exception that if he waves away the offer of a seat, no one will argue with him. I have watched teenagers, fully dressed in rebel garb, pierced and tatooed and dyed to the max, tenderly guide the elbow of a stranger to make sure that little old lady has a place to rest. No one has to ask. No one has to remind. It's just done.
And it's not because these little abuelas are all that fragile, either. Some of these women, all 4'10" of them, are built like linebackers and can totally take you down with a single grocery bag if you get in their way. I learned that lesson thirty years ago in the seedy metros of Madrid, when I was young and foolish and untrained in the laws of the jungle. It's all about respect and the long-established tradition of honoring your elders and showing deference, especially to older women.
Spaniards have the ultimate respect for their mothers, even if they disagree with them. The profound Catholic tradition here which demonstrates itself in supreme reverence for the Virgin Mary is undoubtedly behind that fact. Truth be told, it doesn't stop Spanish men from being Lotharios, or from cheating on their wives. They don't really make that connection. But, put them in a crowded space with limited seating, and those same cads will move heaven and earth to make sure not a single gray-haired woman is left standing. I mean that in a good way.
Maybe they just know who the alpha-females are.
I sincerely hope my sons and daughters have the appropriate reverence and respect for their elders....
ReplyDeleteWhat wonderful pictures you paint with your words!