I begin the walk to my bus stop on Rivera, turing onto Francisco Solano Lopez (Ex-Comercio). I watch the familiar buses pass to the other stops on my 5 block walk, and peer into the businesses that line the street. My feet navigate the broken sidewalk, and I feel the grooves and breaks hit my boots. Being careful not to make eye contact with the sidewalk dwellers, I pass the tiny bar that is always grilling asado on the side of the street. I can see the cuts of meat and the intestines laid out above the fire. I never take the time to stand and watch anyone, knowing that I stand out enough with my light eyes and hair. Tourists are rare here, especially in this barrio, and attract pick pocketers and cat-calling. I pass by the construction zone and reach the bright green Multi-Ahorro building that denotes the bus stop corner. Walking hurridly so that I can see which buses are traveling down Rivera, I turn the corner and pass the small kiosk and take up my standing position leaning against the posts of the bus stops.
My bus passes every 10 minutes during the day, but at night it comes around about every half hour. Every once in awhile someone will ask me if a certain bus passes for that area. I usually am able to tell them, but if I can't, they automatically pick up on the fact that I'm foreign and move on to ask someone with a more uruguayan appearance. I can usually see my bus coming from far away and I hold out my hand as it pulls up to the stop. If you don't signal to the buses that you want to get on, they will drive right past your stop. I board and move to the money handler, usually trying to give them exactly 17 pesos so that I don't have to carry around spare change. I grab my ticket and take a seat near the back so I can get off easily when I want to. People board with their mate and long dark hair and I watch the buildings pass by. Graffiti covering most surfaces denoting the fans of the two soccer teams. VIVA MANYA.
Bus 427 travels fairly fast so I usually arrive in front of the giant historic tree (El Ombu) within a half hour. I make sure to hit the Parada button so that they let me off at the correct stop and deboard, making my way towards my 2nd home. I pass the bakery, which I can smell for at least a block after. There is always some type of trash on the sidewalk, and when its windy it makes small garbage tornadoes on the stones. I pass numerous dogs, stray and owned, and dodge the shit they leave all over the sidewalk. I consider myself lucky that I haven't stepped in any yet (knock on wood). There is a man that sleeps in a stairwell. He is a parking attendant during the afternoon/night and is very cordial and always says hola, leaving the cat-calling to other men. I also think he is in a constant state of inebriation considering he is either sleeping or parking cars with a giant beer in his hand. He has long brown dreads and I can always hear him laughing heartily down the block.
My eyes drop again and I watch my feet follow the lines of pushed together bricks and stones, noticing that I spend alot of time in the inbetween here. Bus stops, buses, the blocks connecting my destinations. Always in transit, but never minding it; finally enjoying the wait for once.
