waiting

There's something particularly frustrating about waiting at a bus stop and watching the bus you are suppose to be on fly by. Yesterday the bus picked students up from the spot where I was standing, but apparently what happened yesterday has nothing to do with how things work today. And thinking that perhaps that certain bus was a conundrum of sorts, I decided to wait for the next bus. 20 minutes passed and finally another bus came- but it wasn't a bus that I could take because it was heading to the wrong area. Another 20 minutes went by and more buses came and went, but none were heading to my house. Finally, I saw my bus round the corner, and I stood up from the bench where I sat, only to watch it zip past. This had to be some evil joke. On any other day I would have given up and walked the 30 minutes back to Mowbray but I had my brought my computer and passport with me to do some errands, so walking was certainly not an option. I decided to get on the next bus, no matter its destination, just so I could wait in a different spot. Finally, the next bus came and I got off a little ways down the road. To my surprise, after waiting only 5 minutes or so at the new stop the correct bus came! I bounded (I really wanted to get home) towards the bus and just as I entered the bus driver mumbled that it was out of service. Of course.

Although I seemed to be at odds with the bus gods, I did meet some really great people during the 45 minutes of waiting. One woman was from Durban and had just recently arrived in Cape Town. She had a great accent and I confess I think I spent most of the time listening to the way she pronounced words and her slightly odd expressions than attending to what she studied in school. One little tidbit I picked up was the expression "is it". In response to everything I said she would reply, "is it?" At first I wanted to answer something in return and then I realized that "is it" is just the equivalent to saying "really?". Another woman I met was from Nuremberg Germany. She is also a psych major and had traveled all over the world as a child because of her Dad's work.

Perhaps sitting and waiting for the bus that never arrives is what coming to Cape Town is all about. If I was able to board the bus within five minutes, I would have made it home an hour earlier, but I would never have gotten the chance to meet new people or been able to share in the "bond" of waiting for the lousy bus. Although the experience was tremendously frustrating and I hope I never have to wait an hour again for the bus to come, it was a good lesson to learn.

And, in case you were wondering, the correct bus in full working service did eventually arrive. Stress on eventually.