There is no need to complain any more, a commuter tells me. Even though the bus system is not good, it’s okay. Sweat trickled down the 60-year-old man’s brow and he fanned himself with Bargain magazine; as he sits in the crowded bus, he says: “At least we got rid of l-Ingliżi.”

He is referring to the German company Arriva – which used to be British – that took over in 2011 and packed up last January.

“At least now things are “tagħna f’tagħna” (in our own hands).”

Most commuters seem to be satisfied enough that the battle of ‘us and them’ has been won and are happy to mute their complaints. Three years on, the bus system, however, still leaves much to be desired.

The digital display boards still do not work properly. At 11am a driver at the Valletta terminus warns me: “I wouldn’t rely on it if I were you – chances are it will tell you that the next bus is at 6pm.”

The reason behind this seems to be that not all buses – definitely not the new Volvos – are connected to the computer system and therefore are not linked to the digital boards at the terminus.

At least we got rid of l-Ingliżi. Now things are in our own hands

The system is efficient mostly because there are information officers available at all time who know the schedule by heart. And so instead of the high tech digital experience where you would just look at a board and know that your bus would be there in 3.5 minutes, we have voices booming: “It-37! Għall-Għadira! Waslet!”

From top: Ticket machines and dodgy displays irk passengers, but officials’ help is appreciated. Don’t forget your drink for when air conditioning is on the blink. Photos: Jason Borg

Commuters have adopted their own terminology. Bus bays are called ‘gates’ as in “What gate is the bus for Imqabba?” – just like at the airport. The ticket booths, which are now functional in Valletta but not always so at bus stops in towns and villages, are referred to as ‘Il-kaxxa’ (the box).

The waiting area has now grown into its old role. A powerful whiff of used oil emanates from the new imqaret kiosk and hangs heavily in the humid stifling air of the ditch.

Drivers, resigned to not having their own quarters, have resorted to folding chairs – and they gather round for makeshift pow wows.

The morning I was there, one of them wanted to discuss wages. “Hoy, no politics,” barked one. “It’s the salary we need to discuss sieħbi – it has nothing to do with politics.”

I catch bus no 37 for Għadira. The ticket booth is working. According to the printed schedule at bay 7 the bus was supposed to leave at 11.13am. It arrived in the bay at 11.24am and left only a minute later. It goes via Junior College, University, Mater Dei, Naxxar, Mosta, Burmarrad and Mellieħa.

Three years ago, the trip took more than three hours. Last year it took an hour-and-a-half. This time round, we manage in a just an hour.

Coming back, I catch the 41, which leaves five minutes ahead of the printed schedule on the bus stop – to the consternation of several foreigners who had been waiting for friends to join them.

This lack of adherence to timings seems to be a common bugbear for commuters.

The trip back is not as smooth. The pre-recorded voice announcing each stop a few minutes ahead is not functioning. The bus is crowded with people heading home from the beach, and the air conditioning is not working to its full capacity – a common occurrence. The stench of sweat is of the faint inducing kind. The windows are sealed.

Many are puffing and huffing and fanning their hands. The passenger sitting next to me digs out his Bargain magazine from a large checked blue and white beach bag and tells me what matters is that they left “those l-Ingliżi”.

Sitting opposite him, a woman tells me that three years ago she had thought that the new bus system would be revolutionary. “I thought everyone would start using the buses, even people who normally didn’t and we’d solve the traffic problem once and for all. Now we have given up – it’s back to what it was before. How long are we going to complain for?”

From this, and several other trips, it is very clear that the resolution to wash the buses every day has long been abandoned.

The buses are very dingy. The floors look like they were last washed when the “Ingliżi” left the island. The main difference in the state of cleanliness between today’s buses and the yellow ones of yore is the lack of mop and bucket under the front passenger’s seat.

The ‘old’ Arriva ones often break down, with commuters having to get off in the middle of the road to wait for the next. The poles and straps for people to hang on to are wobbly, making it more perilous.

There is also a problem with migrants. Most drivers do not think twice about driving off if they see a black person. “Especially on the Marsa route,” a commuter tells me. “And bus drivers are less tolerant of black people who do not have exact change and they often tell them to get off the bus,” he said.

Some routes are more problematic than others – catching a bus in Sliema in summer is a nightmare: too many people, too few buses.

One Sliema commuter is hopeful however: “Maybe in three years’ time, it will improve – slowly, slowly. Let’s not raise our hopes too much.”