So, like millions of people, I take the marshrutka around the city. For those of you who don't know, a marshrutka is like a mini-bus, but it's not really a bus, it's more like a van who's main purpose is to shove in as many people as possible because more people equals more money for the driver. I can't find an appropriate word in English for this particular mode of transportation, so I'm keeping the Russian word, because it's like the word smatana or tvorog, there just isn't a comparison. A marshrutka is almost always decorated with tinsel, international flags, disco lights (I do wish I were joking about this) stuffed animals and other random paraphernalia to make it a little more cozy.
On a good day, a marshrutka will get you anywhere in the city within about twenty minutes, yes you will be slightly car-sick with the constant swerving, sudden stopping, spontaneous acceleration and an deceleration, but over all it can be very effective and time efficient.
And speaking of efficient, aside from these little automotive cultural machines, there are the drivers themselves. Most of the time they are immigrants from former Soviet states such as Georgia, Kazakhstan, Turkmenistan and all other 'Stans on the map which explains the unusual flags and sometimes questionable music that blares from their MP3 players. They can somehow drive, count back change, eat, and talk on the phone at the same time. Multaskers in the States and mothers around the world would be impressed with such maneuvers. Is this dangerous? Absolutely. Is it amazing to watch? Even more so. That piled on with the occasional task of giving directions in some other language or even texting while doing seven other things would even raise the bar for the most ADHA person on the planet.
I'm always walking the line between amazed and annoyed when I get on and off marshrtukii. Like so many other things, when things work, they work great, when they don't, it just adds an extra hour to whatever you were doing. Tonight, after telling the driver three times, by two different people (myself included) they missed my stop. It was not because they didn’t hear me or my random new friend; he just didn’t feel like stopping because the stops are only about 100 meters apart. Well, you know what buddy? It’s -30C (-22F) and my bus stop is 100 meters closer to my apartment, so now because you just couldn’t be bothered with pressing that petal on the left now I have to walk 500 meters. Thank you very much. What just really gets me is the genuine lack of…I don’t know, lack of appreciation. You would think that since it’s butt cold outside that would be kinder to each other, but alas no, it only makes them more hostile. In the rose colored world that I live in, when conditions are bad it makes the good come out in people. It’s also quite annoying that women who work in the deli section of the super markets, and the random guy I occasionally buy fruit from remember me, yet these same drivers that I see almost every day don’t; I mean come on, in the middle of Siberia how many Russian speaking people have an accent like mine? Now that I am re-reading this, I realize how ego-centric and ridiculous I am sounding, but you would think that if the guy could accommodate so many things at once, he could pay enough attention to stop when he’s supposed to.
On a less It’s-All-About-Me rant, I would like a moment to remind people how remarkable this profession is. I know I was just complaining about the driver; but I usually try not to. They do have really thankless jobs, right up there with the women who clean bathrooms or the men who chisel ice off the sidewalks. Imagine having to deal sit in traffic all day, every day, seven days a week. Think of all those toxic fumes that are forever being pumped and blown in your face and people snarling at you simply because they too are tired and running late. So for everyone that has a job like this, thank you.
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