one, two, three, four
small heads on
small boys
look out as
i pass by, on a
wooden seat, on a
concrete platform
fastened
while to them,
faces-pressed-to-panes
i move, with the
tracks, with the
sky
with the tan man
with foreheaded sunglasses
that checks his wrist-watch
with the pale bearded man
devoutly whispering each word
from a hand-held dog-eared book
with the young woman
standing, conversing
with the older woman
frowning, leaning
head-on-fist
elbow-on-wood
wood riveted to wall
wall above tracks
where carriages pass
one, two, three, four
mothers
keep their arms and eyes inside
the vehicle at all times,
avoid others
dose out a
small slap on a
small wrist of a
small boy
if ever he makes
(back-turned) a
small movement, a
small sound
disturbing a gentle equillibrium
of mixed-flavoured men waiting for
the city street
to open up before them
So I of course arrived an hour and 15 minutes late to Chicago. Not because of my regular impunctuality, nor from major traffic, but because we had climbed onto the bus most of an hour late in Memphis. (more…)
I’m sorry about being a number of days behind in blogging. One disadvantage of staying in peoples’ homes is that I don’t necessarily have internet access. So while I have photos and a blog entry written up on my computer, at the moment I have no way to access the internet directly from my laptop. So, I’m now in Brooklyn, New York, having spent 5 days in Chicago prior, and I’ll tell you more about it later. For now, sleep.
Memphis, the one destination on my itinerary not equipped with hostels (ie dorm accommodation under $30 a night; the 15% hotel tax there doesn’t help). They do have camping grounds, and that’s the optimal solution for some backpackers, but they only become worthwhile with both a tent and a car to hand. So while I was frantically browsing the web in New Orleans to work out what I would do, an opportunity presented itself on Monday night, a day and a half before my bus north. (more…)
For those wondering, I didn’t end up taking the ticket to Alburquerque, so here I am in Louisiana during the hot and sweaty hurricane season. 
Many Americans along my travels had been a little bit wary about the idea of going to New Orleans, 10 months after hurricane Katrina caused the flooding of its streets, the devastation of its homes, the collapse of its businesses, and the exile of many of its people. (more…)
Before I leave San Francisco on the blog, I wanted to point out something quite prominent in the city (although I don’t really know whether it’s the same across the US). California’s Yosemite was the second national park in the States, and was first defended by John Muir (he made this pledge from Inspiration Point), who is highly commemorated here as a pioneer of conservationism in SF area. (more…)
In Australia we pride ourselves in things like the Big Pinapple. Here there are also lots of Big things. I went to the Big Hole last week, more grandly known as the Grand Canyon. This week, in one day, I saw a Big Rock (El Capitan—a Big Climb if that’s your thing), a Big Waterfall (the 800m Yosemite Falls) and a grove of Big Trees (Grand Sequoias), all within the Big Park of Yosemite in California’s northeast. (more…)
Yes, I combatted a long-term fear and had a wonderful day on Monday by riding around San Francisco on a bicycle. Everyone had been saying it’s the thing to do and bicycle rentals were littered around the city. I had liked the idea of joining the masses pedalling down the streets, only that I had never cycled on a street (only footpaths), and had never used gears. Having been in San Francisco for 5 days and not having seen its main feature attraction, the Golden Gate bridge, I knew that walking or cycling across it was a must, but gathering the courage to actually climb on a vehicle that would only fall over if I didn’t push it was a little beyond me. (more…)
Sunday was a pretty lazy day. I decided to go to the Asian Art Museum in the afternoon, although if I was cleverer I would’ve asked around and gone to the more exciting Museum of Modern Art or de Young Museum. San Francisco certainly likes its art. (more…)
On Wednesday morning in Vegas, I printed out a list of Bay Area synagogues, and looked up some maps to show me that I only had a few options approaching downtown San Francisco. So I called “Young Israel San Francisco” (I guess “young” sort of appealed) first from Vegas, and later from a public telephone in Oakland airport. In three 50c phonecalls from the airport to a woman who answered with “Hebrew Academy”, I had arranged a place to stay, eat and pray on shabbat, and public transport there. I thought that was pretty good-going.
Still, when I arrived on the doorstep of Rabbi Lipner a little late (public transport instructions didn’t match reality too closely) at 6:30pm on Friday afternoon, I didn’t know what to expect, nor what anyone answering the door should expect of the hairy youth on their doorstep carrying three large bags. (more…)
