Why Latin American Buses Always Leave on Schedule

Barbara knew her destination, the city of Tucacas less than an hour away, was straight ahead through the approaching intersection. So she tensed when the driver signaled a left turn.

We’d been hanging on Maruba’s anchor in Morrocoy National Park, Venezuela, for several weeks. Barbara was on a shopping excursion to Puerto Cabello.

She returned to the bus terminal with her parcels just in time to see the bus to Tucacas pull out. Rather than wait for the next one, she decided to take a por puesto.

A very approximate translation of por puesto is “by the seat.” Por puestos are private cars that operate out of bus terminals in Venezuela. Each driver stands at the curb calling out his destination. Passengers approach and get in the car. The trip begins as soon as the car’s passenger seats are filled. The next driver waiting in line moves into that spot and starts calling out the same destination.

Barbara, taking the last empty seat in a por puesto, departed Puerto Cabello for Tucacas in a car with a driver and three other passengers, all men. She didn't know them.

Not the road to Tucacas

When the driver made that left turn, she didn’t know where they were taking her either.

“Stop the car. I want to get out.”

Consternation. Confusion. Barbara complained in English. The four men responded in Spanish. Neither party understood.

Eventually Barbara collected herself and explained, in basic Spanish, that she wanted to go to Tucacas.

The driver, grasping what had happened, started laughing. He made a U turn, drove back to the intersection, and flagged down a bus to Tucacas. He put Barbara and her parcels aboard. Everyone waved as the bus drove away.

Here’s what had gone wrong . . .

At the bus terminals, when the por puesto drivers announce their destinations, their calls are loud, repetitive, quick tongued. The Venezuelan accent, harsh and clipped, can be difficult to understand.

At the Puerto Cabello bus terminal a por puesto driver was shouting “Caraca, Caraca, Caraca.” Barbara got into his car. She hadn’t noticed that a driver a few spaces away was shouting “Tucaca, Tucaca, Tucaca.”

That’s how she unexpectedly found herself on the way to Caracas, a big, relatively dangerous city 250 kilometers distant, with four men she didn’t know.

Venezuelan buses

Some Venezuelans travel by por puesto. Some ride the big, double decker, air conditioned express buses that provide nonstop service between major cities. Most travel in the inexpensive, colorfully decorated buses that swarm the highways in competition with each other.

How most Venezuelans travel.

For most visitors, travelling with the general public is more interesting than sitting in either a por puesto or an autobus express. A broader cross section of the local culture is on display. Many more things happen.

Sometimes the visitor can only observe and wonder what’s going on.

On one occasion Barbara and I were riding a bus with a few other passengers. They were several women who, though sitting separately in scattered seats, seemed well acquainted.

They kept looking out the back window and exchanging comments. They were concerned about something.

We could see only empty highway behind us.

Eventually the bus driver, in response to some signal we missed, pulled over. The women approved. They seemed relieved.

A car stopped behind us. A girl in her teens got out and boarded the bus. She was distressed, looked full-term pregnant, and was likely in labor. None of the women greeted her. Alone, she sat silent in the front seat. 

A few kilometers down the highway the driver pulled over. A large brick building sat 100 meters back from the road. The girl got off and, still alone, waddled toward the big doors marked Emergencia.

An autobus express. We never travelled on one.

Best way to go

In Central and South American the public buses operate according to a business model norteamericanos don’t associate with travel between cities.

Although the destination announced on the front of a bus might be 150 kilometers away, the driver picks up and drops off  passengers along the highway. People flag down approaching buses from the side of the road. They signal the driver to stop wherever they want to get off.

Competing buses leap frog each other, trying to get ahead and pick up the next waiting passenger.

Fares are determined by the distance travelled. As passengers step off the bus the money is collected by a young assistant, barely a teen sometimes. These bright young men keep track of where every passenger boards, then calculate how much each owes when they get off.

With all the on-gettings and off-gettings, the duration of a journey cannot be predicted. More time may be spent starting and stopping than progressing. A hundred kilometer trip might take an hour and a half one day, the whole morning the next.

Though their arrival time may be uncertain, buses always depart on time. That’s because Latin Americans conceive the idea of schedules (horarios) pragmatically.

After disembarking their passengers at a terminal, buses, like por puestos, go to the back of the line. They have to wait their turn to proceed to the loading point designated for their return destination.

Everyone understands that the bus currently parked there, the one already loading passengers, will leave as soon as its last empty seat is occupied. That is when it is scheduled to depart.

Anyone who wants to leave at that time of day needs to make certain they are on that bus.

Part of the main bus station in Caracas.

A Caveat

Barbara and I visited Venezuela frequently and traveled extensively, both by ourselves and with family visiting from Canada, including young grandchildren.

But that was in the early 1990s. Then the middle class was large and prosperous. The laboring majority seemed reasonably content with their lot, at least away from the larger cities. They welcomed and cared for visitors. Venezuela’s vast petroleum reserves were well managed. The politicians were relatively honest.

But today hundreds of thousands of Venezuelans are barely hanging on and desperate. We wouldn’t return to the country for any reason.

Another transportation alternative.

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