Кусочек Кызыла (A Piece of Kyzyl): The "Marshrutka"

Orientation is my number one task when I find myself in new environs. At first, this takes the form of much leg movement - exploring streets at random, peeking down alleys, and becoming acquainted with the layout of  a place by logging as many "foot miles" as possible. Then, as I slowly become braver with my mental map, I begin testing the local transportation system. Subways and trains are rather straightforward, as their maps are posted online and in the stations. Subway stops are located near well-known sights or buildings, making orientation simpler. Ground transportation (buses, streets cars, trolleybuses, etc) however presents more of a challenge. Their routes criss-cross the landscape seemingly at random. Hopping onto a bus for example, its easy to become disorientated with the twists and turns made as if at the will of some unseen puppeteer. And yet, the subway lines do not penetrate every corner of a city and in the case of Kyzyl, they don't even exist. The only options left are to walk, run, or grab a "marshrutka".

The word "marshrutka" (маршрутка) comes from the Russian word "marshrut'" or "route". The idea is that this vehicle follows a specific route. It is however not technically a work of public transportation. Marshrutki are owned by private companies or firms (I confess that I know little of the business management side of the marshrutka). They differ from their public transportation counterparts in that they are generally smaller, faster, and for a little bit higher of a fare than found on a public bus, you can hop on and off wherever you'd like along the route. Personally, I usually go for the public transportation option, but in Kyzyl, the buses are much slower and less frequently lumber about than in other cities. From what I've heard, this is because people prefer the much smaller marshrutki and have voted with their ruble to the detriment of the bus. Thus I too, following the example of the locals (when in Rome...), stick my arm out on the street curb to signal.

The conductor at her post.

What awaits a passenger once their marshrutka swerves to pick them up? There are to faces of the marshrutka - the driver, who you see to signal, and the conductor who opens the door at every stop, acts as the go-between for the driver and the passengers, and of course collects the fare (15 rubles in the case of Kyzyl). Inside every marshrutka, the layout is the same - you have the driver up front with two spots available for passengers, then backing up against the driver's seat is a row of seats for passengers. In front of these spots is a space for transit and standing (although to say you can stand is a bit of a stretch, as the ceilings are low), then a solitary seat, two seats, and in the very back are two pairs of seats positioned to face each other.

The back seats - either the best or worst place to sit.

 The rules for sitting are simple - everyone for themselves, except in the case of women and older people. Then, they are given the right of way. This courtesy is more or less adhered to. As much of a part of the "marshrutka experience" the first moments may be, it is the journey itself that defines the whole escapade. Backing up to the description of the vehicle, the specific name of this type of van is "Gazelle". I find this name quite appropriate in every respect, minus the part where predatory animals feed on the gazelle (I don't know if Fulbright's insurance would cover that...).

Just as the gazelle can burst ahead at speeds of 60 mph (thank you Wikipedia), our dear marshrutka quickly winds through traffic and deposits its passengers at any and all destinations. Furthermore, the gazelle is known to jump high. Keeping true to fashion, the marshrutka ride is known and even expected to be QUITE bumpy. This is not do however to hydraulics on the buses, but to the conditions of the roads here in the city and especially outside of the center. For you viewing pleasure and to demonstrate what I mean by bumpy, I direct your attention to the video below:

To clarify, I was only holding my camera - every shake both big and small is the result of the powers of physics working their magic on the marshrutka. The passenger is also at the will of the road as the only seat belts present are the ones holding the back doors together (appreciate the small things). The act of sitting is also something not to be taken lightly while riding. It is a constant game of knowing which side of your body to lean towards. Even the slightest miscalculation can send an unfortunate traveller in the wrong direction in the event of a sudden stop - of which there are many.

Such a task is even more complicated when there are no seats left to take and standing remains the only option. This brings us to the capacity of the marshrutka. Just as they can be related to the gazelle, I would also offer the bag of Mary Poppins as an adequate object of comparison. They may look small, but in fact quite a few people can fit into the salon of the "gazelle". Comfort is of course sacrificed at such a moment. As is safety perhaps. There are however few options but to cram in with the other passengers if you are in a hurry. This happened to me this past Sunday.

I had just finished a lovely hike around the opposing bank of the Yenisei when I needed to head back home. I waited at the bus stop and was very elated to see my marshrutka coming around the corner (it was getting dark and I needed to hurry back). My elation soon turned into an expression of "Ohh...." (with a decrescendo) when the conductor opened the door and all I could see was a wall of people. "Wait for the next one?" I asked myself. My answer came not from my own brain, but from the other people at the bus stop waiting with me. They were not perturbed at the slightest by the situation. One by one they lined up and somehow moved into the marshrutka. I followed suit, not wanting to be left behind. To say the least, we were quite friendly and I was happy that everyone smelled nice. To comment on safety though, ironically it was perhaps more safe with some many people as everyone cushioned one another and kept each other from fallen down during the sudden stops. In either case, I was happy when the first stop was reached and some people stepped out. I was not elated to see a line of people at the stop, waiting for us. I decided to hop off a few stops earlier than needed to enjoy some fresh air and to stretch my cramped legs.

I will admit though, that after the initial shock of being crammed into the bus, I could barely keep from laughing while we bumped back to the center of the city. It was such an experience really. Something to revel in despite perhaps the awkwardness of it all. All of us there were sharing in an experience together and no one really cared whether you were snugged up right next to them (arguably because they had no choice). It's a piece of comradeship and it's a piece of Kyzyl.