Let’s hear it for the girls

Usually, I go to work with my husband in his company car, and since he works longer hours, I return home in the afternoon by train. That arrangement works pretty well since the station is neither far from home nor from the office. When he travelled in the past, I took the bus in to work, but since I got permission not only to drive the company car but also to park it in his spot at the office I brave the Buenos Aires traffic alone and take the car. If you get up early enough in the morning the streets are fairly empty so it’s not too bad.

Yesterday, I missed the magic time slot so I decided to take the bus again – which is actually not bad either if you don’t have to wait too long for the 168 and the connecting 29 that drops me off right in front of the office building. You are asking why I don’t take the train in? Forget it. It is so full in the morning that you have to wait out at least two trains, and then the third one is still so packed that the pickpockets can actually steal the socks you are wearing without you noticing it.

Yesterday’s bus ride went smoothly and I had once again the opportunity to observe the eclectic mix of porteños that take the colectivo in the morning. You have your fair share of school children in their private school uniforms (meaning skirts or pants and blazers with the school emblem stitched on). Or the ones with a white or grey coat that serves as a uniform at the less wealthy schools and makes the children look like either tiny lab technicians or caretakers.

Then you have the office workers either in chinos and shirts or in proper suits, elegant elderly ladies, and since there is a naval college along the way, you even come across the young cadets in their formal uniforms, complete with hat and gloves.

But the most interesting view are the girls who regularly use the bus ride to finish off their morning toilette. Some groom their hair still wet from the shower (both in summer and in winter!), and I wouldn’t be surprised if at some point one of them whipped out a battery-powered hair dryer. Some girls clip or file their nails and put on nail polish. And some girls even do their make-up, complete with blush, eye shadow and lipstick.

So I always watch them in fascination while they get ready for the day, wondering how the hell they do it. I mean, here I am, holding on for dear life trying not to fall off the seat while the bus driver gives it all – and the chicas are applying eyeliner and mascara without a worry in the world. I would probably poke my eye out or at least turn my face into a fright night contestant.

But I guess it is all about practice and perhaps growing into a certain habit. There is this woman I see regularly on the bus who always takes her daughter to school. And every time I see her she uses the ride to fix her little girl’s hair. Very calmly and without being the least disturbed by the rough driving she carefully combs her daughter’s hair and braids it into two perfect piggy-tails. The girl doesn’t seem to mind and I am pretty sure she will – once she gets older – also treat the colectivo as her own private beauty salon on wheels.