I'm a fan of public transportation in cities. I once presented on the Paris metro system in several speech and debate tournaments in high school, and for an anthropology class my sophomore year of college I basically took the red line train in Boston from one end to another and wrote a seven page paper about it. In Cochabamba, there are no subways nor are there motorcycle taxis (shout out Kigali), but there are these things called trufis.
I'm not sure what that word signifies, exactly. I see some of them have "T.RU.FI" on their headboards on the roof of their vehicles so maybe it's an abbreviation, but I haven't bothered trying to find out. I did find out though that there are 23 different lines, and from various experiences each line also has its own specific routes, which can be very confusing. But I've learned a lot. I obviously don't know where every single line goes but I know which lines to take whenever I need to go to a particular place and I'm pretty proud. When I first arrived here, I was wondering how much I'd be taking them or if I'd just rely on taxis all the time. However, I'm glad that with the help of people I eventually learned a lot of the major routes by myself and can consider myself completely independent when it comes to using this form of public transportation. They're really convenient; for some of the major lines there's always a lot that drive through, and although there aren't any specific marked stops (besides a few cases), nor are there set times they pass by, you just have to know the roads they go through and can flag one down NYC taxi-style with your hand and then tell the driver you need to get off around a block before you get off and they'll drop you off there. (Also the drivers are mostly male, but I have come across the occasional female driver.) During the week after I got from my trip out of the country, I wanted to write about three incidents involving drivers from three different lines that all happened that week.
113
Line 113 is one of the lines that goes from almost end to end of the city. I find that most other lines go from one end up to La Cancha, the huge marketplace and major trufi stop, and then from La Cancha to the other end. The 113 is not one of those lines. It goes from one stop, a barrio called Lomas, all the way to several different terminals in the far northwest end of the city. Riding from one end to another takes around one and a half hours. I know, because one day (not in the week this entry is concerned with) I decided to randomly do it for no reason whatever.
I'm very good at sitting in a form of public transportation and staring out the window doing nothing while listening to music, which is exactly what I did. I watched the scenery change from the ravines and dust of the barrios in the urban periphery, across the wealthy part of the city and its major avenues, and then to a less cosmopolitan part of the city once more on the other side. I had the intention of getting out on the last stop and finding ice cream or something because it was a very hot day, but it ended up driving up and up this hill and through this residential area and stopped in a park where there were no ice cream stands whatsoever.
I ended up being the last person on the trufi so I just talked to the driver. I mentioned that I had gone from one end to the other, and there he realized that I was a visitor wanting to get to know the city. He was happy to answer my questions, and told me I could also go back down in his vehicle (it would drive by Simon Lopez, the major avenue near the house where I'm staying). There's a small stall selling snacks and soft drinks at the trufi park, and I got a glass of Coke because it was the only cold thing they had. After admiring the view from the other side of the city than the one I usually get to see, I went back into the driver's trufi and sat on the front seat to continue talking to him. He was super nice and fun to talk to. Then I got off where I needed to and headed home.
The week after I got back from Argentina, I found myself in Lomas visiting World Vision's office again, which happens to be a block from the trufi terminal. After my visit I saw a small street restaurant with a chalkboard advertising "chicharron de llama y de pollo." A woman was cooking on the sidewalk and I asked her if she still had llama because I wanted to try it, and she said yes, so I had some to go with a bunch of the traditional sides. She just put it in a plastic bag with no utensils, so I walked away wondering how I would eat it, when I heard a voice from behind me call out, "Hola señorita! Do you remember me?"
I turned, and it was the same trufi driver who had taken me on my trip from end to end of line 113!
I was pretty happy to see him and said, "Of course I remember you! How's your family's trip to the US?" He replied to me cheerfully, and I asked if he was about to leave Lomas to go back on the route, but he said no and pointed to one that was leaving. I boarded it, and from the window the driver and I waved at each other, before the one I was one started to descend and I headed back.
119
One day, I wanted to go to a barrio called Monte Olivos. More specifically, a church in that barrio, where a woman on a religious mission lives. Line 119 passes right by that church, and also conveniently by Simon Lopez, so I knew that I just had to take it and it would eventually, after some time, drive by that church. Right?
Wrong.
Turns out I was only kind of aware that minibus line 119 would drive by the church, and not aware that there are actually multiple versions of line 119 that branch off and take different routes. (I would say it's annoying that the minibuses do this, but then again the green line in Boston's subway system also branches off and takes different routes.) I went to the main street near the house I'm staying in to try and catch whatever 119 I saw, and after missing the first one, I waited a bit, and then caught the next one. So I got on the 119. Due to traffic and distance it took me around an hour and a half to get to the periphery. I thought it was going to drive by the church I was looking for eventually, but eventually it reached the last stop, where there were other 119 minibuses parked waiting to turn around and do their route. We didn't pass by any scenery that looked familiar to me, and I ended up being the last one in the vehicle, so I asked the drive how I could get to Monte Olivos because I needed to speak to a nun at this church. He told me that there's a specific 119 that goes there–it has a triangular red flag hanging right by the headboard on the roof of the car indicating the line number. I thought I'd have to leave and try and find one, but then the driver told me he'd take me to where I wanted to go. And with that he turned around from the bus stop, parked his vehicle, took out the headboard on the roof of the car to indicate he wasn't doing any route, and then turned back around and drove down the hill.
He pointed to a hill across from the one we were descending and said, "See the church over there? It's next to a basketball court." It was kind of hard to discern, but I knew that the church in question was next to a basketball court, so I trusted him. He explained to me that at the bottom of the hills, at the 9 kilometer mark at Petrolera, this major highway-like avenue, the 119 minibuses split and take two different routes to go up, and the one that would go up to Monte Olivos had a red flag. As we reached the point of separation for the two different routes, he pointed out 119 minibuses with red flags that were heading down, then headed up where they were coming from. Eventually, he drove onto the stone road that I recognized right by the basketball field and the church and let me get off. He didn't charge me extra for going out of his way to get me to where I needed to go, which was incredibly kind of him to do.
108
The 108 is one of the lines I definitely take the most because it stops in Carolinas, and if I want to go back to the city center from the Tejiendo Ciudades office I don't even have to walk anywhere because the buses stop right there. There's a table where a woman named Gregoria cooks lunches for the trufi drivers, and it's also where the controller of the line, a woman named Nancy, sits. One afternoon, there weren't that many trufis running. I sat with Nancy and talked to her, since she and I have become acquainted. (I learned that she named a little puppy that hangs around that area "Ciento Ocho," or 108, after the line and I thought that was one of the most adorable things ever.) One drove by and was about to head down, and she yelled at the driver to stop and let me on, and told me to hurry and board it. I wondered if she had to yell at him to stop because he wasn't going to do his route anymore, and once I got on to board the seat next to him (even though the rest of the trufi was empty) and he laughed, "Well, I guess I've been hired!" Then he asked, "Are you Bolivian or are you from somewhere else?" I was flattered he even asked the first question. And we started talking, and he was genuinely interested in knowing what I was doing up there, and started telling stories about how he loves taking foreigners and showing them around Cochabamba. I felt really lucky I got to meet him right then.
He was actually on his way home and wasn't doing his route, so when we saw another trufi heading to La Cancha on Avenida Siglo XX behind him, he told me to get off and get on that one. I asked him how much it would cost for him taking me down the hill towards a major avenue. He told me nothing, wished me well, and I did the same. Perhaps on one of my 108 rides I'll run into him again, perhaps not, but either way, the interaction made me very happy.
 |
| I didn't take this picture, and it's not even a picture from Cochabamba, but it gives a great idea of what trufis look like, with the headboards on top showing what route they serve, and then also the signs at the window showing what major stops they drive by. |
113
Line 113 is one of the lines that goes from almost end to end of the city. I find that most other lines go from one end up to La Cancha, the huge marketplace and major trufi stop, and then from La Cancha to the other end. The 113 is not one of those lines. It goes from one stop, a barrio called Lomas, all the way to several different terminals in the far northwest end of the city. Riding from one end to another takes around one and a half hours. I know, because one day (not in the week this entry is concerned with) I decided to randomly do it for no reason whatever.
I'm very good at sitting in a form of public transportation and staring out the window doing nothing while listening to music, which is exactly what I did. I watched the scenery change from the ravines and dust of the barrios in the urban periphery, across the wealthy part of the city and its major avenues, and then to a less cosmopolitan part of the city once more on the other side. I had the intention of getting out on the last stop and finding ice cream or something because it was a very hot day, but it ended up driving up and up this hill and through this residential area and stopped in a park where there were no ice cream stands whatsoever.
I ended up being the last person on the trufi so I just talked to the driver. I mentioned that I had gone from one end to the other, and there he realized that I was a visitor wanting to get to know the city. He was happy to answer my questions, and told me I could also go back down in his vehicle (it would drive by Simon Lopez, the major avenue near the house where I'm staying). There's a small stall selling snacks and soft drinks at the trufi park, and I got a glass of Coke because it was the only cold thing they had. After admiring the view from the other side of the city than the one I usually get to see, I went back into the driver's trufi and sat on the front seat to continue talking to him. He was super nice and fun to talk to. Then I got off where I needed to and headed home.
The week after I got back from Argentina, I found myself in Lomas visiting World Vision's office again, which happens to be a block from the trufi terminal. After my visit I saw a small street restaurant with a chalkboard advertising "chicharron de llama y de pollo." A woman was cooking on the sidewalk and I asked her if she still had llama because I wanted to try it, and she said yes, so I had some to go with a bunch of the traditional sides. She just put it in a plastic bag with no utensils, so I walked away wondering how I would eat it, when I heard a voice from behind me call out, "Hola señorita! Do you remember me?"
I turned, and it was the same trufi driver who had taken me on my trip from end to end of line 113!
I was pretty happy to see him and said, "Of course I remember you! How's your family's trip to the US?" He replied to me cheerfully, and I asked if he was about to leave Lomas to go back on the route, but he said no and pointed to one that was leaving. I boarded it, and from the window the driver and I waved at each other, before the one I was one started to descend and I headed back.
119
One day, I wanted to go to a barrio called Monte Olivos. More specifically, a church in that barrio, where a woman on a religious mission lives. Line 119 passes right by that church, and also conveniently by Simon Lopez, so I knew that I just had to take it and it would eventually, after some time, drive by that church. Right?
Wrong.
Turns out I was only kind of aware that minibus line 119 would drive by the church, and not aware that there are actually multiple versions of line 119 that branch off and take different routes. (I would say it's annoying that the minibuses do this, but then again the green line in Boston's subway system also branches off and takes different routes.) I went to the main street near the house I'm staying in to try and catch whatever 119 I saw, and after missing the first one, I waited a bit, and then caught the next one. So I got on the 119. Due to traffic and distance it took me around an hour and a half to get to the periphery. I thought it was going to drive by the church I was looking for eventually, but eventually it reached the last stop, where there were other 119 minibuses parked waiting to turn around and do their route. We didn't pass by any scenery that looked familiar to me, and I ended up being the last one in the vehicle, so I asked the drive how I could get to Monte Olivos because I needed to speak to a nun at this church. He told me that there's a specific 119 that goes there–it has a triangular red flag hanging right by the headboard on the roof of the car indicating the line number. I thought I'd have to leave and try and find one, but then the driver told me he'd take me to where I wanted to go. And with that he turned around from the bus stop, parked his vehicle, took out the headboard on the roof of the car to indicate he wasn't doing any route, and then turned back around and drove down the hill.
He pointed to a hill across from the one we were descending and said, "See the church over there? It's next to a basketball court." It was kind of hard to discern, but I knew that the church in question was next to a basketball court, so I trusted him. He explained to me that at the bottom of the hills, at the 9 kilometer mark at Petrolera, this major highway-like avenue, the 119 minibuses split and take two different routes to go up, and the one that would go up to Monte Olivos had a red flag. As we reached the point of separation for the two different routes, he pointed out 119 minibuses with red flags that were heading down, then headed up where they were coming from. Eventually, he drove onto the stone road that I recognized right by the basketball field and the church and let me get off. He didn't charge me extra for going out of his way to get me to where I needed to go, which was incredibly kind of him to do.
108
The 108 is one of the lines I definitely take the most because it stops in Carolinas, and if I want to go back to the city center from the Tejiendo Ciudades office I don't even have to walk anywhere because the buses stop right there. There's a table where a woman named Gregoria cooks lunches for the trufi drivers, and it's also where the controller of the line, a woman named Nancy, sits. One afternoon, there weren't that many trufis running. I sat with Nancy and talked to her, since she and I have become acquainted. (I learned that she named a little puppy that hangs around that area "Ciento Ocho," or 108, after the line and I thought that was one of the most adorable things ever.) One drove by and was about to head down, and she yelled at the driver to stop and let me on, and told me to hurry and board it. I wondered if she had to yell at him to stop because he wasn't going to do his route anymore, and once I got on to board the seat next to him (even though the rest of the trufi was empty) and he laughed, "Well, I guess I've been hired!" Then he asked, "Are you Bolivian or are you from somewhere else?" I was flattered he even asked the first question. And we started talking, and he was genuinely interested in knowing what I was doing up there, and started telling stories about how he loves taking foreigners and showing them around Cochabamba. I felt really lucky I got to meet him right then.
He was actually on his way home and wasn't doing his route, so when we saw another trufi heading to La Cancha on Avenida Siglo XX behind him, he told me to get off and get on that one. I asked him how much it would cost for him taking me down the hill towards a major avenue. He told me nothing, wished me well, and I did the same. Perhaps on one of my 108 rides I'll run into him again, perhaps not, but either way, the interaction made me very happy.
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