Last Friday I boarded my usual bus at the Apia fish market just before 2 p.m. ready to go back to my village. The body of most of the buses are wooden – wood siding, wood benches, wood floors. Buses here are privately owned and operated and are uniquely decorated to make them easily recognizable. The exteriors are colorfully painted with their names painted on the sides. The inside is also elaborately decorated with flags (Samoan, American, French, the U.K., the European Union or whatever else people could find), religious icons and posters. My bus driver used to play loud, bass-heavy dance music, but I think his CD player broke, so now it’s just quiet.

When I found my seat that afternoon, the bus was just about ready to leave. Generally, my ride into town is about an hour and half, and it’s about two hours going back: the driver stops at a store on the way out of town to gas up and also takes a different route to drop people off closer to their homes. This trip was to be different, however. The police stopped the bus on three different occasions (they’re trying to crack down on overcrowded buses). The first cop yelled at the passengers because no one was sitting in my lap (lap-sitting is common on Samoan buses; I usually like to find a small to medium-sized person to sit in my lap when necessary). The second cop looked around for a while, but didn’t do too much. But the last cop nosed around and ultimately wrote the driver a ticket.

After that, we continued on our way and we stopped at the store, then about ten minutes down the road we stopped at another, smaller store. A while later, as we were going through the mountainous area, the bus broke down. The bus unloaded and I heard people saying, “Savali loa,” which means, “Walk now.” (I was still at least a dozen miles from my home.) But everyone just milled around, and I finally gathered that we were waiting for the Apia-bound bus to pick us up. A short time later, the bus finally came, everyone re-boarded and we were on our way.

By the time I made it home, I was exhausted, but I was still shocked to see that the clock read 6 p.m. (I don’t have a watch). By car, the ride is little over an hour, but four hours on the bus(es). I wouldn’t have minded so much if I’d been mentally and physically prepared for such a trip, although honestly, if I’d known it would take so long, I probably just would have stayed in town another night. Although, I know I really shouldn't complain - at least I don't have to take a ferry to get home.