This morning I, along with a line of commuters a full block long, waited for a colectivo (also, bondi if we want to use the true slang for “city bus.”) Bus after bus passed us by without stopping, including several that had room for more passengers (though one driver 
gave us the wag-of-the-finger to indicate clearly that he had no intention of letting us get on.) I have no idea why, but this is what happens sometimes. Granted, I’ve given up entirely on ever arriving early for anything (considering that the people I’m meeting will be arriving late or the class I’m going to will be delayed by the arrival of the professor…), but getting to the university generally only takes me 20 minutes on the bus, plus a few minutes of waiting, the ever-important ever-scarce monedas, and the stepping-out-in-the-street-flagging-down-of-buses, which I have learned to do like the best of the porteñas. Sometimes it takes around an hour, and that’s just a fact. I suppose coming to class half an hour late isn’t the end of the world, though I’ll have to catch up on a few NGO fundraising strategies. It’s not like I missed half the class,
like my friend who had 14 completely full subway (subte, here) trains pass him by before he could grab one to get to the same 9 a.m. today.
On my way back to the apartment, I made another friend. Apparently I have one of those faces that just invites strangers to talk to me, whether a dodgy Brazilian man who tries to get me to walk down dark streets in Tribunales with them (causing me to change my mind in a hurry about which bus I was actually waiting on) or a cute señora who wants to know if this bus stops near Retiro. She got her answer (yes, it stops right near the Torre Monumental) and I got her life story. Apparently she’s an Argentine who left the country at age 17 for the US to be an actress, where she lived in California and was apparently nominated for an Oscar (though Lola can’t think of who she could be.) She will be moving to Sweden soon, but has come back to visit her rich sister (who studied in Sweden and was made to move back to Argentina by her husband). She’s had enough of this country where she gets no recognition and there are no opportunities, and wants to go visit her friends in Germany who have a (small) castle. I can’t tell how much of this was truth, or if it was just 
a story to pass the time, but there you have it. Public transit can be mierda, but at least sometimes it can be entertaining.
Consejos: Mostly for the caballeros (gentlemen) here. Let women board the bus first, even if you were waiting in line before them. This is courtesy and custom and if you don’t, you may find yourself being told off by a señora, who may be elderly but is nonetheless scolding you in rapid Spanish for being a rude ignorant kid. I’ve seen it happen, don’t let it happen to you. Generally, as on most public transit systems, women are given preference when it comes terms to taking seats, and of course everyone should give up their seat for pregnant women, women with children, and anyone of an advanced age. (Really. Don’t pretend you don’t see them, that’s just inconsiderate.) Also, never travel without your Guía T: it’s the most useful tool you can imagine, with grids and maps detailing bus and subte routes through the whole city (though it takes a little getting used to.)
Anyways, hope all’s well.
Besos,
Mairead
¡Que lindo! 