Public transportation abroad is often very different from what people in the United States are used to. Americans are accustomed to the bus or the subway with fixed and reliable schedules, and also trains that operate in a similar fashion. When abroad, you may be dealing with vehicles that run erratic schedules, cram people in, suffer breakdowns, or drive like maniacs. Perhaps, it’s all of the above. But to have an authentic experience getting to your final destination, sometimes it’s necessary to literally get up close and personal with the locals.
In Barbados, there are three main types of public transportation; the government bus, the private bus, and the ZR minibus. Briefly, the government busses are colored blue, run on fixed schedules, and only accept exact change. The private busses are more laid back, play the radio, have a less fixed schedule, and can give change if you don’t have the exact fare. Then there is the ZR.....
A fleet of Toyota minibuses cruises the island, white in color except for a stripe down the middle and a number posted on the vehicle indicating the route number. The ZR (pronounced zed-r) shuttles people around the island on its own schedule. A route description is posted on the front windshield, for example, “Silver Sands via Oistins” in addition to its number. The minibus seats the driver, a front seat passenger who is sometimes the fare collector, a dozen more fixed seats for riders, and fold out seats to accommodate more. And they can always fit more as people double up and sit on the floor. The driver speeds between stops and will always pick up another passenger, because each one means another $1.50 BDS collected!
Which leads to a story of our first night in Barbados.
Michele and I took an almost empty ZR from the Coconut Court in Hastings where we were staying to Oistins early on Friday evening. I had my fish dinner, and as the food court started to crowd we decided to leave. At the bus stop down the street we joined a larger group looking for a ride out of Oistins. Private taxis pulled up and offered fares, with some takers, but I knew that some sort of bus would come shortly. It just happened to be a ZR.
As a few wary tourists looked on, we hopped on board the ZR and paid the collector our $1.50 each. A Bajan gentleman offered Michele the front seat, which in hindsight would be a mistake, and I climbed in the row behind with other passengers, a mix of locals and travelers. As a reggae mix on the radio provided the background theme, the sliding back door was thrown shut and we were on our way. The driver pulled out of the bus stop and hit the accelerator, flying past other vehicles turning off the highway and slowing only at the bus stops where he beeped the horn to find out if any more passengers could be picked up.
Between Oistins and St. Lawrence Gap the majority of the travelers had already left the ZR for their hotels, and a few locals had taken their place. Each stop abrupt; slowing quickly followed by speeding that threw us back and forth in the seats.
Past the Gap the pace really picked up as the driver flew through traffic, dodging and weaving, horn honking, music playing. Twists and turns in the road that slid me into the person beside me or forced me to grab the seat in front to prevent it. And the ride went on.
Traffic picked up, the driver didn’t slow down. The horn seemed to honk constantly and be the most effective tool to deal with the situation. As we rode up fast on a line of slowed traffic, the horn blared but the car in front couldn’t move. At the last possible moment the driver slammed on the brakes bringing the ZR to a halt, sending me flying off of the seat and into the rear of the seat in front of me before I bounced back and landed in place. We had narrowly missed the vehicle in front of us by inches!
With a collective sigh of relief, traffic began to flow and the normal business of honking the horn and picking up or dropping off passengers resumed. We were in the last 500 meters from the Coconut Court, the bus stop next to it was for us, so I called out “Next Stop!” and the driver hit the brakes for one last time on our ride. The door swung open and I rolled out of the back seat as Michele anxiously climbed out of the front. In a second the door slammed shut and the ZR sped off into the night towards Bridgetown.
Michele and I walked upstairs to our room. Her face was still was one of complete terror, but as for me... I was energized! All I could say to her was, “That...was..AWESOME!! I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt so alive!”
She disagreed.
During our stay in Barbados we used public transportation to explore the island, and rode the blue bus, the yellow bus, and other ZR taxis. While none of the other rides were as crazy as our first evening, traveling with the locals was a rewarding experience as we rode around the island in true Bajan style.
TRAVEL TIPS:
Public transportation in Barbados is cheap and reliable. The fare is $1.50 BDS regardless of the distance you travel on a single ride. This applies to the government (blue) bus, private (yellow) bus and ZR. However, it is often necessary to change busses in Bridgetown to get to your final destination.
All of the busses stop at the designated bus stops along the road. They will either be marked “To City” or “Out of City”, meaning to Bridgetown or away from Bridgetown. Exact change is required for the blue bus. The yellow bus and ZR will make change if needed.
The bus terminals in Bridgetown are the Fairchild Street terminal and the Princess Alice terminal. Each has specific routes. The ZR minibus arrives and departs from the transit yard in Bridgetown, which is roughly a 300 meter walk from the Fairchild Street terminal. The distance between the Fairchild Street terminal and Princess Alice terminal is approximately 1 km.
If you are claustrophobic, suffer from motion sickness, or have any similar issues, the ZR is not recommended. Wait for a blue bus to come along. To signal for the next stop on the ZR, either press the buzzer if one is available, knock on the side of the van, or call “Next Stop” to the driver.
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