I like the train I think. It moves slowly or seemingly so. Lumbers sort of steadily, feeling as if it goes forward even when I’m facing so I see what’s passed rather what is coming. It’s lazy and informal; no checked bags or seat belts, assigned seats or rules about moving about at will. It began by following the river but now its here in the heart, perhaps the outer circle of a city in MA.
It makes me think about those first train passengers; what a novice it must have felt for them. I like these hours moving further from home by the minute; alone in quiet and calm. Moving closer to an adventure in a place I’ve never been, never thought of going to. The train is mostly empty. I do wish they would take better care of the terminals or stations or train yards or whatever they are called. I prefer to call them stations I think. No one seems to care about the rust or the trash in these stations; but then I worry that the whole world is becoming more like that.
This is a good place for reading. Better than a plane actually.
We are back by water again. Perhaps tracks mostly follow the rivers; natures rails? The world doesn’t seem so unhappy from here. Not such an unrelenting place at all.
The conductor/attendant commented on my pentacle when he took my ticket, said, "that’s a nice pentagram, M’mam." I’m not sure what that means and although I merely smiled and said, "thank you."
My mind split into two opposite pondering.
Is he pagan; was that merely a gesture of recognition? Why then did I feel it a bit resembling a threat? Making me wonder if I should have worn it on the inside of my shirt. Makes me wonder if I should tuck it in there even now; yet I don’t; I only think about it.
The city is huge and in its own way beautiful. I’m still in awe of it I think. Overwhelmed and still not understanding why people would want to live here.
I ventured out into the neighborhood alone; on foot. I wore all black because I wanted to and because it was so windy I tired my hair back.
At the surface I was scared but deeper down I wasn’t. Deeper down I wanted to explore and contemplate. To see and observe. I think of Dottie who did so love to see the world through my eyes. So I ventured out making notes about the streets and my direction, kind of like Hansel and Gretel a type of crumb path only on paper.
I found an old fort by the reservoir. Huge ledges that go straight up with at least two, that I saw semi-circular stone look out posts. I imagined it for a moment or two, the guards back in 1776 gazing out on what? Green grass and trees where the tall buildings now reside?
Some of the architecture here is stunning. Massive. Elegant. Yet, all the windows have iron bars covering them. the few driveways locked iron gates as well. As I walked along the parallel streets I didn’t think to look for yards in this stone and concrete place, yet there are a few; tiny ones not as big as an ordinary sized room, but enough so they too are fenced off and locked. Scattered patches of earth somehow preserved like a reminder that earth still exists in this place and that she continues to grow things, continues to be important to people.
The sidewalks here are exceptionally wide as a matter of fact they are on both sides of the streets and one mini van was driving on one of them so I had to step to the side and let him by.
People don’t speak English here, unless of course they are speaking to me it seems. All around me they chatter one to the other and I don’t know what they are speaking about. It’s odd in a way but not wholly upsetting. It makes me feel separate somehow, but in a quiet ominous sort of way. I feel like an outsider, but not necessarily as an intrusion for they really don’t seem to notice me at all. I think I could walk these city streets for months or years and it would be the same; just some white woman walking by.
The trip to the statue of liberty was truly sensational. They charge $17.50 to park a car in the area of the empire state building; $12.50 to ride to the top in the elevator of that building; but only $7.00 to ferry over to the statue and nothing to be with the Lady at all. The stone structure that holds the statures wieght is massive and feels like love to me. I just held my hand there against the stone warmed by the sun and allowed the energy to warm my heart.
I continue to ponder the way people live here all caged in. I revel at the amount of art that has been built into their buildings even the oldest of them. I feel the pride those first builders took in their endeavors. They could not have known how it would turn out, how alluring their lions and elaborate archways would feel along side the black bars and gated driveways.
The diversity here continues to amaze me. I experienced oxtails with rice & beans. When the woman asked me where I was from I said, ‘Vermont’. She drew a blank then said, "Is that American?"
I like the NY skyline and the wonder of so many people from so many places who know things I don't know and have had a thousand experiences I haven't had. I wish I'd known how to make friends with them, to sit and talk or found a woman to meet me for coffee then go with me on the train to explore new places, talk about female things, do some female type shopping, perhaps sat while she did something very cool and ethnic with my hair. Dozens of tiny braids perhaps.
I wish I’d had the courage to tackle the sub-way system, ventured further, seen more, experienced more. Perhaps another time.
-Betsy-
Observations: 4/12/99 - 4/18/99
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