When I am not biking to work I take the bus in Christchurch. The Orbiter or, to be more precise, the avocado-green coloured bus that travels round Christchurch. It is reasonable to say that to take a bus in Christchurch can be an interesting and fairly nice experience with distinctive facets.
Politeness
A regular morning will go as follows: it is nearly 8 o’clock in the morning and I am walking down the beautifully trimmed tree-adorned Centaurus road. Christchurch prides itself in having a modern world-class bus system and justice be done, it is an efficient one. When I get to the bus stop, I can query the arrival time of my bus by pressing the thumb on the timetable device found at all bus stops.
The green light starts blinking and announces that my bus will arrive in two minutes. A few students and a young lady are waiting for the bus as well. The bus arrives and I am the only one to bother making a signal for the driver to stop. The bus stops, opens the door and the students wait for me to get in first. Why do they let me go first? Is it because I am a woman? Or do I look that old that people are letting me go in first? Sigh… It is a fact that young Kiwi people will usually react quite politely in such situations: more than once young Kiwi students have let me pass first. Also, if there are no seats left and a mother burdened by a stroller gets into the bus, a handful of students will promptly leave their seat to make place for the weary passenger and her child.
Still on the politeness vein, the bus experience goes on by greeting the driver “good morning” or just “morning” if it’s one of those Garfield Monday mornings. It is the same bus driver in the morning and the middle-aged man with square framed glasses and a wee bit saddened eyes will utter a barely audible “ta” with a frail, thin voice. He must have Garfield-morning syndrome as well and deep in my heart I sympathise with his economy of words.
Talking about economy of words and maybe contrary to a common belief, not all incoming passengers greet the bus driver “good morning” or “hi” in Christchurch and yet I have the impression that most of them appreciate the greetings. After all they have long working hours (9 hours per day, 6 days per week) and theirs is a solitary job. I recollect two other memorable reactions to my having said “good morning”. The first one was a very short and apparently common one: I got into the bus and said good morning to the driver. He mumbles some, at first, unintelligible words which sounded like "gauin" but a fraction of a second later, my brain was able to decode what he was saying: “how is it going?” I was actually proud that I was able, for one of the very few times, to decode what people mumble because, for my non-native English ear a lot of Cantabrians do just like that, they maunder and mutter along words and sentences.
Second greeting experience: this time I dealt with a talkative bus driver who would not wait for the passenger to greet him but would greet them first. “Gidday young lady!” , he would joyfully say to any lady that got into the bus. At the time, I had found a place to sit in front and this middle-aged driver initiated a conversation with me. In a few minutes I knew that he would “hit the big five O” next year, that he had five children and as many grandchildren, that some of his grandchildren lived with him, how many hours he worked – an awful lot, please see paragraph above - and how much he earned per hour and per month. Not bad for a 30-minuteish bus ride! When I got off he was so grateful that he thanked me for having talked to him.
Compassion/shunning the law
Many times I have been witness that bus drivers will not charge the bus fare to their passengers for different reasons: a lady will enter the bus with her children but only she will pay for the fare. The driver did not make her pay for the children. Another time was when he knew the people personally.
Violence
(coming)
Unpleasantness
Yes, that can happen too. Today, to be more exact. It was another one of those stressful days at work and I look forward to a resting ride in the Orbiter. How mistaken I was. The driver drives fast (that reminds me of the acronym to learn treble clef notes (
Every
Green
Bus
Drives
Fast) and when you have to hang on the bar when he engaged a turn. But that was not all: a young lady finds it most interesting to share her idiosyncratic music taste – if we can call that musicless suite of percussion sounds melody – with us. And I was just next to her. After a few minutes I could not bear it any longer and asked her to lower down the volume. She did. A little. Fortunately she got off a few stops later. But then two kids started brawling while their mother (?) or accompanying adult was too busy roaring herself hoarse while talking to a friend.
Il y a vraiment de ces jours où on aurait mieux fait de rester couché, we would have said in French for that was one of those days where you would rather have stayed in bed.
Photo credit: http://www.ecan.govt.nz/news-and-notices/news/PublishingImages/n-metro-orbiter.jpg
