On my last vacation, we had a few new adventures. As I write this, I’m riding a local bus in Belize. It’s such an interesting experience that I felt compelled to share it.
First, let me analyze and compare this bus ride to what I’m used to in Canada. Remember the buses you rode in school? Yellow on the outside, green seats on the inside, no seatbelts, and often crammed with three little people to a seat? Now picture this: I’m kind of on the same bus. The original bus. That’s right—the one I rode 40 years ago in school is basically the bus I’m on now. Different colors outside and in, but fundamentally the same. Belize uses school buses for public transportation. This would never happen in Canada. Our public transportation is honestly much more advanced.
It’s funny how something can be acceptable in one country but not in another. What you don’t know doesn’t bother you. This doesn’t bother me too much. Growing up on a farm, seatbelts, driver’s licenses, and car seats weren’t a big deal back then. For example, when I was in high school, I drove all the time—not in town, of course; my parents wouldn’t allow that, but everywhere else. I remember when my boyfriend was turning 17, he wanted to have a night with some buddies, and I became the designated driver. So, I got my learner’s license one week, and the next week, I got my driver’s license. I did such a terrible job parallel parking—about a foot away from the curb, perfectly lined up but still a foot away. The examiner passed me anyway. I think he felt sorry for me. So, am I okay on this bus? Yup. Let me tell you more about it.
The seat I’m sitting on has no cushion left in it. Oh yeah, it’s like sleeping on a junky hide-a-bed. You can tolerate it as a kid, but once you have some weight, it’s not fun anymore. My feet and ankles are also getting wet. At first, I felt a little moisture and wondered, “Is it warm or cold?” Please lord, don’t be warm. Then I realized there’s a hole in the floor, and my seat is by the back wheel well. Rain just hits the ground, splashes up with the tires, and gets inside. The poor older guy beside me is sitting on the inside over the wheel well. He’s squished, but I’m good with my short legs.
We’ve been on this bus for about 45 minutes, and the rain is coming down harder. People are closing their windows, and it’s getting hotter. I can’t imagine being on this bus in the summer—it would be a sweatbox for sure.
This bus is not new. It makes me wonder how many thousands of people have ridden it. It would be interesting to know. Also, I’m curious about the safety standards because this bus as it looks like it’s in disrepair. Along with the hole in the floor, some of the seats are torn and ripped.
I’m sitting toward the back, which I like because I can see everything around me. Looking up the aisle, I see ball caps, neatly cut hair, and mostly younger people. I’d guess they’re between 15 and 25 years old—makes sense since transportation is costly when you’re starting out. There are also some older folks, near retirement age. I can only imagine the cost of living for a senior here, I know it can be a struggle in Canada too. I see all the passengers. Beautiful black hair and brown skin.
Now let’s talk about the aisle. It’s full. Yup, standing-room-only full. Did I mention my bus ride is two hours long? Yes, so sitting for 2 hours on an uncomfortable bus is still better than standing. That’s a long time. In Belize, public transportation doesn’t seem to have a limit on how many people can board. In Canada, we’d never allow people to stand on a bus, especially on a highway, for two hours. An older man with a cane came down the aisle, and a man behind me offered his seat. I offered to share my seat with the young guy who had to stand, but he declined. I thought I could spell him off during this long ride but he said he was okay. That is when this woman looked at me and explained, “It’s okay. This is how we travel in Belize. We’re accustomed to it.” It’s fascinating to see how others live and adapt. I wonder what she’d think of riding a bus in Canada. Here it’s really a tight space with all these bodies, no air conditioning, but a couple of windows are open, and I can feel the breeze. It feels good. Not doing much for my hair but feels good just the same.
What I’m really enjoying is the music. Not because it’s my favorite genre, but because of the Caribbean flavor and Jamaican flair. But this woman, this lady who talked to me, she is singing. She is beautiful and leaning on the seat in front of me. Her voice is incredible, and she sings with such joy. It makes me think of the saying, “Dance like no one is watching.” She’s is the epitome of that freedom, and I love it. We should all be this free.
On this bus, I don’t know anyone, yet there’s so much conversation. Everyone seems friendly. Earlier, as we were pulling our luggage to the bus, a tour guide from yesterday recognized us and shouted, “See you again, Canada!” with a big smile. His pride in his country was evident in how he spoke.
After a few stops, the older gentleman sharing my seat got off, and the young woman with the beautiful voice joined me. She told me she’s an undertaker and was traveling to work on two bodies. I wasn’t expecting that answer! It wasn’t hard to engage in conversation with a starter like that. I tried to not ask too many questions but I was too interested. Life is fascinating, isn’t it?
The rain has now turned our bus into a steamy sweatbox. I’m glad I didn’t put on makeup; it would’ve slid right off my face. I glance at my partner. He’s sitting across the aisle, looking unimpressed. His straight face, devoid of emotion, tells me everything. He’s not enjoying this ride as much as I am, but I can’t help but smile. This bus ride is an adventure—and a lesson in embracing the unexpected. I am so glad I am here.
