On the Joys and Sorrows of Mini Buses

I used to get stage fright whenever I rode a mini-bus. When I lived in Ap Lei Chau with my parents, I usually took a minibus at least two times a day on my way to and from work. Back then no MTR stretched out to our little Duck Tongue Island, so it was either hiking up the hundreds of stairs to take a big bus or catching the green mini buses on the main street. I am lazy, so of course I always took the mini bus.  

Some of the nicer minibuses, say, ones going to Cyberport, are equipped with buttons over each seat. I was quite surprised the first time I rode one of those “nice” minbuses. Bells that you simply press to tell the driver you want off? What a novel thought. In theory, some of the Ap Lei Chau buses did have bells, but it seemed as if they’d been strategically broken so that none, literally none, of them worked. When I first ran across this phenomenon, I couldn’t help staring suspiciously at the driver. If it were him (likely), I couldn’t really blame him. It has to be pretty annoying hearing that shrill bell blaring in your ear all day interrupting your Cantopop or Chinese opera.  

With the bells nonexistent or broken, I had to revert to the normal way of communicating with the driver: yelling. If you want to get off, you’re supposed to yell up to the driver informing him exactly where you want to alight. The trick is that you have to know how to say it. So that is why "jau5 Iok6" 有落 (get off) was one of the first Canto words I learned.

I then worked hard to memorize my own street. After listening to other passengers I realized that the English sign was a bit off, since it had an “s” sound instead of the “sh” sound on the sign.  Most drivers dutifully pull to a stop when  I shout out “Hung4 sing3 gaai1, m4 goi1 洪聖街唔該" (Hung Shing Street, please). One driver, though, never seemed to understand me. He’d always yell back, confused, or keep going until another passenger would help me out and repeat my request. I swore to keep practicing until even he could understand me.

Now bus drivers seem to understand me almost all the time. But I still sometimes feel uncomfortable yelling at the driver. Maybe it’s because it’s a bus of strangers, potentially fifteen strangers, who are all listening. A captive audience, a rolling room of judges. I judge myself, so why wouldn’t they judge me? My voice sounds so strange next to the others. So much quieter, thinner, more foreign. I wish my voice would blend in. I wish I could force it to sound the way I know it should. But it’s one thing to recognize the sound and a whole nother thing to produce it (yes, I just wrote "nother"). One day, one day.

Still, besides the slight anxiety mini buses produce, I still love them. And now that my Canto has improved, I can take red mini buses, the scarier but more useful cousin of the mild green mini buses. Green mini buses are easy. They run the same route, they have an Octopus card reader, they even have bells sometimes! But red mini buses. You have to actually have to talk to the driver sometimes to ask if they are going somewhere. They can change roads unexpectedly. They only take cash (and occasionally only have Chinese numbers on the price sign). They drive like a roller-coaster with a jetpack strapped on the back of it. Ok, I might like that part. You always get there so fast!

Well, maybe not always that fast. One night, I was in Yuen Long well after midnight and trying to get back to my home in Jordan. I just missed the last train on the MTR so I followed the Citymapper app to a spot where theoretically a red mini bus would be waiting to whisk me back to Jordan. It was lovely in theory, but the app somehow missed the fact that the mini bus had stopped running thirty minutes earlier. My phone, whose battery was already pushing the limits to get me to that stop, died. Considering the distance and my aversion to taxis, I was also loth to flag down a cab.

I wandered into a 7-11 to buy water so I didn't perish from dehydration before I figured out how to get out of Yuen Long. On a whim, I asked the lady behind the counter if she knew of any red mini buses that went to Mong Kok. Scores of red minis all over Hong Kong go to Mong Kok at night, and the walk from MK to my house is not too onerous, so I figured it was a good bet. Why yes, she did know of one. And her friend, who happened to be hanging out next to the potato chips, could even take me to the stop!

Overjoyed, I followed him into the muggy night. Only a few blocks away sat a beautiful sight: a red mini bus with the words "Jordan Road" emblazoned on the front. Not only was it going to Kowloon, but it even went all the way to Jordan! The night was going my way.

But....not for long. After hitting the road, I soon realized that I was not a normal fill-up-and-drive-like-mad-to-get-to-your-destination bus. No. This was a let's-take-a-night-tour-of-the-New-Territories bus. It really was quite the tour. We circled around Yuen Long for awhile to pick up more people before swinging up towards Tin Shui Wai. Then, looping around blocks, driving up alleys, and circling buildings, we made our way through Tuen Muen, then Tseun Wan. People jumped on and off and on and off. I seemed to be the only person on for the whole ride, probably for good reason.

It was kind of cool, I guess. Lots of people pay good money to go on tours, and here I had only paid $15. I got to see lots of things I had never seen before, like Lingnan University. Crowds of people outside in tents eating midnight snacks. A car wrecking yard. Chickens.

It was until we hit Prince Edward that I finally started recognizing things. Finally, we made it to Jordan. I stumbled down the steps and walked into my neighborhood. Surprisingly, the fruit stand was still open. I guess you just never know when someone is going to want to buy bananas at 2:30 in the morning.

By the time I got home, I decided it was a draw. It may have taken me an eternity to get home, but at least I hadn't had to cut off my right arm to pay for a taxi. That's something. Still, next time maybe I'll just leave ten minutes earlier and not miss the MTR. Or walk. Probably faster.