Life on the Combi

A typical limeño spends four hours a day commuting, Lima having the world’s third worst traffic according to the 2018 TomTom Traffic Index. That’s twelve years of an average person’s life spent stuck in traffic jams. Whilst the most affluent members of society might travel in their own car or by taxi, for the masses moving around the city means taking either a bus or a combi. Uncomfortable, unsafe and highly unrecommended to those visiting Lima, a ride on a combi is an unforgettable experience for those from countries with a more organised transport system. For those of you intrepid enough to have a go, I offer you some tips.

The first challenge for anyone wanting to take a ride on a combi will be getting one to stop. The best option is to find a paradero, marked by blue and white signs. At the stop you will find absolutely no information whatsoever about routes, so it is probably best to ask a local which one you need to take. The routes of the combi are plastered on the side of the vehicle, highlighting the main avenues that will be passed on the journey. If you can’t find a stop, then worry not. Raising your arm and catching the attention of the driver is likely to mean they will pull over, even when it is not safe to do so.

Limeños wait for their combi
Source: Andina

Once you are on the bus you will then have to pay. Payment will be taken by the cobrador, who is also responsible for getting people onboard. The price of a ticket ranges from 50 cents (12p) for short journeys to 2 soles (50p) if you want to cross the city. The cobrador rattles their coins in their pockets when they want payment and will often give you a small ticket in return.  

Combis are certainly not for those who are claustrophobic. At peak times, passengers are crammed into these mini vans like sardines. Even when you think it is physically impossible for anyone else to get one, the cobrador will shout out to passers by as they lean out of the open door for people to get on.  ‘Suba!, Suba!, hay sitio!’ they shout, when there is almost certainly not any space.

When stopping at traffic lights, you will sometimes notice the cobrador gets out and speaks to a person on the side of a road with a notepad. These are the dateros, whose job it is to tell the cobrador how many combis doing a similar route have passed by and how full they were. It’s impossible to know how many combis there are in Lima given their informality, yet they compete for passengers so cobradores want to know if other vehicles are slightly ahead of them. If there are, this often leads to dangerous driving as drivers race other combis in an effort to gain more passengers. In exchange for the information, the dateros are given some money, the Peruvian ingenuity of finding ways of making money to survive never ceasing to amaze me.

Whilst the cobrador is ensuring that the combi is as full as possible, the conductor weaves through the city’s streets. Sudden breaking, constant use of the horn and a complete disregard for stopping distances mean that a ride on a combi is not necessarily a relaxing experience.  El Comercio, Peru’s most respected newspaper, last year launched a campaign to bring some order to the capital’s transit system and tracked down the man who it christened as the worst driver in Lima. Jesús Alberto Villarreal Tasayco continues driving his coaster (a slightly bigger combi) around the streets of Lima, despite having accumulated 147 tickets for various offences and having 28 arrest warrants in his name. With the Peruvian state unable (or, sadly, more unwilling) to capture him, an brave journalist hunted him down, taking a ride with him undercover and making notes of all the offences committed during the journey. Within one hour, he had committed 35 which under the law should lead to a fine totalling 19,000 soles. Not using a seatbelt, picking up passengers in prohibited places, using the lane to be used only in emergencies, driving without a mirror and speaking on is phone were only some of the offences observed.

The final challenge is getting off the combi as you approach your destination. “Baja, Baja” is shouted to let the driver know that you want to get off, though some people just seem to bang the window. If you are lucky, the driver will pull over at a safe place and come to a halt before people jump out. If you aren’t lucky, then the driver will open the door in the middle of road, meaning you have to wait for a gap in the incoming traffic before getting off. If you are like me, once you get off a combi you then need to find a peaceful place to enjoy a coffee and thank your lucky stars that you don’t need to take these every single day.

Lima, October ‘19