How to Ride the Bus in Guayaquil during Rush Hour.

1. Leave your personal bubble on the sidewalk. There's no room for it where you're heading.

2. If you're brave enough to carry anything that makes you bigger than you already are, strap it to your front. But you should probably just leave it at home.

3. Have your 25 cents ready. What's that? You only have a $5 bill? I think I see a cab you can catch.

4. Whatever you do, don't linger between the sensors that count the passengers as they come and go. It will beep at you. The driver will yell. You will immediately reveal yourself as a clueless gringa.

5. I know the sight of closely packed bodies makes you physically ill, but vomit isn't going to make this situation any better. Forge ahead. There's no space? Of course there is. There's always space!

6.  If you can, wedge your body somewhere near the front of the bus. You'll thank me in an hour when you're trying to get off.

7. Hold on with both hands. Even when you think you don't need to.  Nobody wants you to be the girl barreling up the aisle, grasping at body parts for stability. Nobody.

8. Open the nearest window. Open it again after somebody shuts it.

9. Go to a happy place in your mind. Sing a song. Dance to the techno beat that's been playing on repeat for the past hour. Memorize a poem. These buses aren't going anywhere and neither are you, so don't let them ruin your day.

10. If by some luck a seat opens up and a man offers it to you, take it. This is not the time for feminism. This is the time to cuddle up near the window, breathe deeply, and pray the Yogoso man climbs aboard to sell you his delicious coconut frozen yogurt.