The Magic Bus

Antofagasta has three forms of public transportation. Micros, Colectivos and taxis. Taxis are the most expensive (naturally), the micros the cheapest and the colectivos land somewhere in the middle. The Micros - micro buses - follow "specified routes" that are "predetermined" and "make sense". I really wouldn't know as there is no map, electronic or otherwise, that exists to show their exact paths. The locals just seem to know. Meanwhile, the colectivos "follow" - approximately - the routes of their corresponding micros but can veer slightly off course for the benefit of their passengers.*

The micro - pronounced mee-crow - experience varies greatly from driver to driver. I've come to the conclusion that each bus is owned individually and ran under very little regulation (except for the price, which hovers randomly under a $1). Some drivers are assholes, some drivers drive slow, some drivers throw their bus around the streets like it's a MINI and their in a Hollywood chase scene, some drivers are kind and helpful. It all depends. But one thing that is consistent on every bus is the driver's truly incredible ability to make change. Any bill or number of coins you give them, a few swipes at their cashbox and you've got exact change in your hand. All while they're actively avoiding pedestrians, other cars and obeying traffic laws (mostly).

But there is a darkside to these mad geniuses. I get passed by buses several times a week. At first I chalked this up to racism ("JA! Gringo!") but I'm starting to see a more explicit reason: Micro drivers don't give a shit. They do what they want. They are the masters of their universe and we are the helpless krill along for the ride. This goes to their heads - like a cop whose full of himself and his personal sense of "right" and "wrong" - and their curt attitude towards the passengers is sometimes really disrespectful and entirely unnecessary. Though I think some of them just don't want to pick up the Gringo because he's a Gringo and they probably don't want to deal with my Gringo stupidity. Understandable.

Colectivos have an even more explicit personalized vibe to their ride. Each car is self-owned and don't even think about touching their stereo. The price is only 50 cents more than the micro in the day time but can go up to (see below) $4 at night (after 12). It's a pretty great deal. You share with up to 3 other people so there are less stops making it faster and more direct. And they run all the time whereas the micro stops around 11-11:30 during the week and around 12:00 during the weekend.

MARK MY WORDS: I will create some sort of map of as many of Antofagasta's micros as I can before I leave this country. And I will post it here, for all future Antofa-Gringos to make use of and expand on.

Until then, the 103 works pretty good.


*Por ejemplo: One more-fun-than-it-should-have-been-for-a-school-night night, I was out drinking with some friends at a friend-of-a-friend's house (listening to music, a bit of BBQ-ing [I distinctly remember trying to share a track off of Frank Ocean's latest album Channel Orange but was usurped after about 30 seconds with a dismissive "Que fome/Booooring"]) and around 3 in the AM I decided to return home. I stumbled down to Parque Brasil to catch a colectivo. "2.000 pesos" answered the driver. 4 bucks. Fair enough. When he realized I could understand a bit of Spanish he began talking very rapidly and very passionately. About what? I have no idea. I was drunk and simply tired of hearing the language (not to mention tired of failing at it for the last couple of hours with kind and generous young people who were patient with my kindergarden speaking level unlike this flabbyflibbertygibbit). I nodded my way half the way home when we picked up a couple who lived on the opposite side of town from me. He asked if it was okay with me if he took them home first. Real quick, he assured me. No problem. My whole life in Chile requires a lot of going with the flow. We drove up to Avenida Argentina and headed South. The view of the city from this far up the hill was a nice late-night sight. I rolled down the window a bit and took it in. We dropped them off and turned around. Again, I managed to nod and "Si" myself half the way to my house when he stopped to pick up another couple. This time an extremely drunk Columbian man and his short, chunky Chilean girlfriend. They jumped in and when the man told the driver where he was going he explained to me that it was again in the opposite direction but very close. Real quick, he reassured. The Columbian man jumped in with a slurred "Es MUY cerca" when the cab driver explained my situation (American, lives north of here, already accompanied another couple south, has school in the morning). Off we went. The Columbian gentleman was throwing various English words my way with a drunken slur and heavy accent that made them sound more Canadian French - or something worse. We eventually dropped them off (the Columbian man clutching my shoulder, "Buyh! Buyh! Buyh!") and I asked, as politely as I could, "Nadie mas, por favor, ya?" He agreed and kept talking. Less passionately (I guess that conversation came to a conclusion at some point) but still very very quickly. I understood none of it. But nodded and "Si... Si"-ed all the way home.