abril en buenos aires

My first experience with the colectivos was almost enough to swear me off them for the remainder of my stay in Buenos Aires. I had taken one successfully downtown on my second day in the city to meet a friend for ice cream. In order to get home, I hopped on the regreso, or return, of the same line. Because every other street in Buenos Aires is one way, the regreso went on a street that I was not yet familar with, and because I didn't recognize the neighborhood, I missed my stop. By the time I realized I had passed my house, I had no clue where I was, and spent the remainder trying to figure out where I was on the map to call a taxi, and wondering why in the world I was not safe at home in the Shell Shack. However, I soon realized I was the very last person on the bus, and worked up enough nerve to explain my predicament to the colectivero. He rolled his eyes, told me that the neighborhood I was in was too peligroso to get off in, and took me back to the bus station, and put me on the next bus, where the driver dropped me off safely at my corner.

My favorite colectivo experience, however, is from a couple weeks ago, when my friend Emily and I were waiting to cross the street, and the passing colectivo whistled at us. Not the driver - the horn of the bus itself made a cat call whistle, while the driver leered at us with a "hehe, my bus just whistled at you" smirk.