La Combi

Everyday, I walk to the corner of my street and wait for the combi. Most cities in Mexico have buses, but Matamoros (as the locals call it) is too small, and a normal bus wouldn't fit on all the narrow streets. The "combi" is a rounded van with all its comfy seats replaced with benches, sometimes cushioned, sometimes not. It fits about 12 comfortably, but most often there are about 20 people crammed into the minibus. The last passengers to get on have to stand and hold on to the overhead bar. There is no air conditioning, and sometimes the windows are broken so they are locked shut.

The university is about 3 miles away, which takes 20 minutes. Sometimes I think about pulling out my iPad and reading for a bit, but I resist the urge because that would be weird. My stop is early, so I usually have my choice of seating. I try to sit with my back to the driver because one feels the bumps less, and I don't have to hold back the gasps as we almost hit a stray dog or bicyclist. I also get the breeze from the open front windows. My duty for this prime seat is to pass up the fares to the driver. It cost $5.50 (that's pesos) which is about 55 cents for us. Teachers get a 5 cent discount.

Today, the combi ride is worse than usual. I wake up at 5:00 am with Montezuma's revenge (I swear it was the mayo), and by noon i still feel a little queasy but decide staying in would only make me feel worse. So, I brave the combi.

To keep my mind off of my rumbling stomach, I watch as various people board the cramped quarters. One thing I have noticed is you always greet the passengers when you board. "Buenos días" if it's morning, and "Buenas tardes" if it's afternoon. A few teenagers are too cool for this tradition but for the most part, it happens each time the door opens and someone gets in.

Today, two teenage boys enter with a big bag of Sabroso chips. I'm instantly annoyed because 1) I love this type of chili powdered chip, but there is no way I can eat anything with chili powder and 2) they are eating them noisily. Crunch, crunch, "buenos días", crunch. Well, at least they are semi-polite. I feel a little better.

More people get on, a mother with three small children. They are dressed in uniforms, and all three say, "buenos días" as they find a place to sit. The bus driver takes off before they are seated, and the little one stumbles. A fellow rider steadies him as he makes his way towards his mom. No car seat laws here...

Then two elderly women board, both carrying large pots of flowers. The two teenage boys immediately greet them and take their heavy pots for them. As more people get on, the boys move the pots out of the way, making room for more passengers. All the while they are chatting with the other passengers politely. The ladies' stop nears, and the boys make sure they get off safely.

I pass the boys' fare to the driver and receive a "gracias" and smile in return.

I'm told this type of behavior is special to Matamoros; you wouldn't see it in a bigger city such as Puebla. I'm smiling now too. I'm happy I'm riding in a combi.