1. Those guys that recruit people for the buses.
There are no timetables, bus stops or mapped bus routes in Santa Marta. Every bus has a small hand-painted board in the window with the main stops on it. In busy periods, a man leans out of the open door shouting destinations like a market seller. I learnt the routes through trial and error (mostly error) but still have to stay sharp and track the blue dot on my phone in case they unexpectedly change the route. I never thought I’d miss TFL’s dreaded ‘this bus is being diverted’ but regardless of the chaos, I can’t help but smile when the driver slams the brakes a few millimetres before someone’s bumper and stops the bus for someone to bring him a coffee. Or when he cranks up the volume on a speaker system from a 2002 Vauxhall Nova, and everyone starts singing along to ‘Despacito’ for the third time that day.