The bus ride to Zuleta

Cameron sat on a bag of rice, and I sat in the front seat after much shifting of shopping bags and cartons. We lumbered along the bumpy road, every seat full, and only a few people standing (fairly spacious by trole standards), and then we picked up about twenty little kids in uniform, just released from school, then about fiften more from another school. An older woman stretched her disembodied hand through the crowd and handed a five spot to the guy who hangs out the door announcing the bus´s destination. He started to make change for her, but then her head appeared and asked him if he he would pick up a bag for her. She indicated where and the bus shuddered to a hault. The guy hopped down and ran to a window, and almost the whole front of the bus yelled no the other one. He paid four dollars and then laboriosly hoisted a 40 lb. sack of potatoes onto the bus. He gave the lady her change, and onward we lurched, gradually dropping off children, families with boxes and bags scattered over the bus, and finally, us at the doorstep of Hacienda Zuleta.