Chicken Buses

Chicken buses are ubiquitous in Central America.  To visit without riding in one is to miss one of the most unique and characteristic experiences of this region.  The buses are old US school buses that get sent down from the states, painted in bright colors, and reused for public transit.  They are called Chicken Buses because they often play chicken with one another on the narrow dirt roads, not because they are carrying livestock (though they carry just about everything else.)

An experience on one of these buses goes about like this:

You climb aboard the old school bus through the front doors, claiming a seat as your own by stuffing it with your two huge backpacks and squishing in together.  The other seats are filled two or three to a seat with locals.  The bus is set to leave in 5-10 minutes, so you wait in your seat, checking out the hoards of stickers the driver has placed in the front of the bus.  Most of them read some variation of “Jesus is my guide” or “I go with God” in Spanish, and are often accompanied by drawings of Jesus or elaborate crosses.  Flames may or may not be involved.

Men, women and children hop aboard the bus and wander down the aisle, selling their wares.  They sell plastic baggies filled with water or juice, and  full chicken meals packed into a sandwich bag.  You can buy fresh produce, t-shirts, and face creams from the people wandering the aisles before departure.  The lady across from you bargains over a pound of tomatoes with one vendor, and then buys a onesie from another.  She stashes both in her bag.  

As the bus rumbles to a start, several more people pile aboard, filling the seats to capacity.  People keep piling in until the center aisle is also full of patrons standing and holding on.  Depending on the bus, there may be bags of grain or buckets of fresh fish stowed in the back.  If it’s too full, they’ll be strapped to the top of the bus, alongside tires, bags of produce, suitcases, and sometimes people.  

The bus starts moving and jostles around on the bumpy roads.  The driver continues to stop for passengers, packing on more people than you could possibly imagine would safely fit.  When he thinks the bus is full to max capacity, the guy collecting fares begins squeezing his way through the aisle, pushing people to either side as he makes change.  

As he gets to your row, you  cooly hand him a small bill, acting as though you know what the fare is.  If you have to ask the fare you’ve already lost (and will likely be paying double the standard fare.)  There is a silent dance as he slowly hands you change, one bill at a time, testing to see if you know how much change to expect.  You keep looking at him, waiting for more change until you both think you’ve gotten a fair deal.  You watch as the guy across the aisle pays only slightly less than what you paid, and you call it a victory.  

If you are unlucky, the bucket of fresh fish in the back will tip over, spilling water and fish everywhere and making the inside of the bus smell like a seafood counter.  Unluckier still, and a bus tire will blow, meaning everyone has to file off the bus and hang out on the side of the road until it’s fixed and the bus can get moving again.

People are constantly moving in and out of the bus.  Some passengers exit through the emergency exit door in the back (the one you always wanted to hop out of in elementary school.)  Every now and then, another woman with a basket will hop aboard and walk through the aisle of the moving bus, selling produce or empanadas.  She hops out the back at the next stop.  

The guy in the seat in front of you finishes a bottle of Coke, then chucks it out the window into oncoming traffic.  No one seems to notice but you, and that’s when you notice that everyone is throwing trash out the window and into the street – banana peels, plastic baggies, straws, and discarded wrappers.  Rather than scolding the entire bus for littering, you make a mental note to discuss this with your travel buddy later.

If your ride is longer than an hour, and you speak decent Spanish, you might make conversation with the people sitting around you.  They might want to practice their English with you, too, if they’re learning.  

Soon the driver pulls over on the side of the road and the fare collector motions to you that this is your stop.  You’re a tourist that needs help knowing when to get off, and they are happy to provide it – when you and your bags get out, they can fit four more people in your stead.  They pop open the emergency exit for you.  You push your way through the aisle and throw your bag out, then hop down into the street.  

Before you have your bag on your back, the bus is rocking down the road again.  You’ve reached your destination, likely at a cost of less than $2.

This won’t be our last brush with unique transportation, but it may be our last few weeks riding Chicken Buses.  I won’t miss the messy fish smells, or the fear that my bag is going to go flying off the top of the bus, but I’ll miss the people watching.  The Chicken Bus is a cultural experience that smacks you in the face and, once the initial discomfort wears off, becomes a lively and entertaining way to travel.  You never know what you’re going to see.  And at and average cost of US$2 per person for a 2.5 hour ride, you can’t beat the price.