“I always keep a spare pair of underwear in my bag, even If I’m just planning to spend a day somewhere,” another Peace Corps volunteer told me after it appeared evident that our friend would be trapped in my city for the night. “You never know what is going to happen.”
In that case, the volunteer missed the second to last bus home and the final bus was not particularly reliable. In fact, everyone here knows that the buses are so unreliable that the website that lists the buses gives percentages for how likely it is for a certain bus to show up. This bus was only listed as 30% probable to show.
I’m not sure exactly what keeps buses off their routes. In the wintertime, it was clear. It could be too cold to run the bus or the driver might not want to drive on the snowy roads. As the weather got clearer, it became harder to understand. The bus could have broken down or maybe the driver’s sick. Either way, it makes travelling a real challenge.
I travel to visit another volunteer, who lives about two and a half hours away, somewhat regularly and I’ve had several adventures.
The first real adventure was when I went up for Valentine’s Day. I got to the bus station and there were no tickets for the bus I wanted and the next, final bus was cancelled. The actual tickets for a bus are sold pretty quickly if it is a popular bus and I was trying to travel on Friday afternoon for a holiday weekend.
I was wondering if I would have to cancel my trip when I saw the bus I needed. If there aren’t any tickets left, you are always welcome to stand on the bus. In this case, all the standing room on the bus was gone as well. I went up to the man standing in the doorway and asked if there was room for one more person on the bus (in Ukrainian of course). He told me that there wasn’t much room, but maybe when the door closed we would all fit. Well, that is a lovely idea, but I had to get on the bus BEFORE the door closed. I just looked up at all the people on the bus, sadly. If I didn’t get on that bus, I would have to cancel all my plans. I asked again if there was room for just one more and added on that I was very small. After a minute, people started to shift around and made enough room for me to stand. I had to dodge the door as it closed and I was literally smashed between people and a window. Every time the bus went around a corner I was sure that the door would fly open from the weight of the people on the bus. Eventually we stopped and the same man that let me on the bus traded spots with me so that he would be thrown against the door. I really appreciated that until an old lady got on. She apparently had nothing to hold on to, so she decided that I would work just as well as a pole. For the next half an hour, this old woman got frisky, grabbing me in order to keep herself upright.
After half an hour, more people got off and I was able to actually get into the bus. But every time people get off a bus, more always get on. This time I was trapped against a seat further inside the bus. I thought I was going to be crushed. For the last forty minutes of that ride, I finally got a seat because enough people got off. I even sat next to a very nice woman who pointed out my stop for me after I asked. I was traveling through a new town for the first time because the bus came at a more convenient time.
I got off the bus and went to the ticket window. “One ticket to (Insert Town Name Here),” I said. I was told 18:45, I was told. I thought that was a bit steep for the part of the journey that was left, but some buses just cost more, so I tried to pay. She said no. I was completely confused. I repeated the price, and she agreed. Then she shouted that I should pay on the bus. I usually prefer to pay on the bus because the driver usually charges a hryvnia less than the ticket people, but normally the workers at the bus station want you to pay at the window. At least I knew the bus was coming around 6:45 and I’d me on the way soon.
Sunday evening, I had to go home again. The bus came at 6:20, supposedly from the bus station. We went to the station about half an hour early, but the bus wasn’t listed on the schedule. We asked about it and she said we had to catch it on the street. That meant we needed to be on the other side of town so that we could stand at the stop near the highway to try and flag the bus down. As quickly as we could, we climbed through the snow, in the freezing cold, to get to the bus stop. Every time we saw a group of people around a stop, we asked them if this is where the bus from Kyiv would stop. Every time they told us that we had to go further down the road closer to the highway. I honestly thought we would never get there.
Another trip home, after going to meet my neighbors in the next oblast (state) over was undoubtedly the worst of all. Normally buses in Ukraine have signs that say what route they are travelling. The city of origin is on top and the destination city is on the bottom. I saw a bus on the route I needed, but the cities said it was going in the opposite direction. Normally the bus going in the other direction is at the stop around the same time as the one I need, so I didn’t think anything of it. Once I saw a second bus going in that same, wrong direction, I realized my mistake. I showed the station attendant my ticket and she said my bus had already left. She then yelled at me for not asking her about my bus sooner because there was nothing she could do to help me now. I was shocked at how angry she was considering I was the one who missed a bus.
The first bus was, of course, the one I wanted. The driver forgot to switch the sign around. I have been traveling here for three months now and this was the first time I encountered this problem. So, accepting that I would lose half the price of the ticket, I bought a new one for the next bus.
I wasn’t thrilled about waiting an extra 45 minutes, but it really didn’t matter in the long run. I had no idea how badly I needed to catch that bus.
I was told that the next bus will actually be a small white van several times by the ticket woman. She also told me to show the attendant the ticket and that she would tell me when my bus arrived. I travel through this station a lot, and this is the first bus I have missed, but she apparently thinks I am now inept at catching a bus.
Well, the bus was about an hour late. I quickly found out why. About half an hour into the drive, the driver pulled over on the side of the road. The engine turned off and refused to go any more.
The only other time I’ve been on a broken down bus in Ukraine was when our Peace Corps rented bus broke down on the side of the road. Surrounded by all my friends and teachers, I wasn’t too worried about how we would get back on the road. This situation couldn’t have been more different. Alone, at night and cold, I wished I knew more about engines and the Ukrainian words that are used to describe them.
Sitting by myself, I wondered what to do next. Would the driver fix the bus? Would another bus on the same route come along and rescue us? Would the Ukrainians start calling friends and family for rides home? I knew few people in Ukraine and fewer who had a car. Even if I could find someone to take me home, I had no idea exactly where I was. Every bus takes a different route. I decided the best thing to do was wait. The men from the bus went out to work on the engine. Occasionally they would come in and warm their hands or try and turn the engine on. Nothing was working and after half an hour I was beginning to lose hope, especially since two other people on the bus had apparently called for help and left.
Not knowing what else to do, I asked the man sitting across the aisle from me if the bus would be fixed. He said it would be. I asked if it would happen soon. He laughed and said he didn’t know. That was less than reassuring. What if this took two or three hours? It was already cold on our little van.
I called another volunteer for moral support and he agreed that there wasn’t much I could do. I began to dream of my warm bed and an infrastructure that would quickly rescue a bus full of stranded people on a winter night. I wanted to go home and would have settled for any home at that point, in Ukraine or the States. After I started, I’m not ashamed to admit, crying on the phone in frustration and fear, my friend told me to call the Peace Corps safety and security officer. Normally you call him when you are in trouble with the police or have been mugged, but he said to call whenever you need him. I knew that there was little he could probably do, but he might be able to at least figure out exactly what was going on. I collected myself and called.
I was right. There was nothing he could really do. After all, he was in his house around Kyiv and I was on a cold, dark bus. Yet, he was able to talk to the same man who I had asked questions earlier. He found out exactly what was wrong with the bus and how long the repair would take. Even more importantly, he got the man to agree to help me if the bus wouldn’t move again. I felt a lot better.
After another half hour, we were on the road. I fell asleep shortly after that. My city is the end of the line, so there is chance of missing my stop. I woke up an hour later just as we were getting to my city. I made it home around midnight—four hours later than I would have arrived if I hadn’t missed my bus.
Toni
April 20, 2010
Awww. I wish I could have been there for you.