how we get around

A few weeks ago when I rode the BART for an hour, my Ipod died and I didn’t bring my book, which forced me to sit with myself and enjoy the ride. No distractions. So I got my notebook out and began to write.

…Not only do I have a weird fascination with men in kilts, Renaissance choral music, and hidden urban staircases, but I love exploring cities and mastering public transportation systems. There is a strange sense of achievement that I get by confidently hopping on a vehicle with up to hundreds of people I don’t know, sitting with them for however long, and then getting off again at a totally new place that I want to go. It helps me grasp my geographical bearings and makes me feel like a native. Sometimes I feel like my life’s a movie riding the BART. Passengers are always so much more fast-paced, especially in the morning when we all rush toward the station in hoards of business suits, Starbucks coffee, and high heels. Time speeds up when we all walk quickly down the escalator, dodging other commuters to get on the waiting subway. We settle amidst hundreds of other commuters as the door beeps and then ruthlessly closes. Then the subway moves away at rapid speeds as my Guster or bluegrass music hums in my ears. No one talks to each other and when you take your earbuds out you are surprised to hear silence. Sometimes, though, the sound of wheels grinding on the rail is so loud that I can hardly hear my music anymore, the train playing its sweet but abrasive metal symphony to drown out any other music. When you get off the BART, there’s an unspoken rule to wait your turn in line to get on the escalator. Sometimes I can’t help but laugh as I become part of the faceless throng, a phenomenon that is commonplace and exciting but also disturbingly typical of our fast-paced, almost impersonal 21^st century American society.

I also love riding the bus. If I sit and read a book, I can get some reading done and get to where I need to go. If I plug in my ipod, I can sit back and just observe. Last week, I saw men playing chess on makeshift tables by the Powell BART station. They all looked different, the men and the chess boards. There was also a man following the bus in the bike lane. He rode the length of the bus line, keeping up with the bus. Way to go! And way to show that with a little leg work, you can get somewhere just as fast if not faster than a vehicle. It really is possible to take ourselves off the grid even if it’s just for a half-hour bike ride.

If I unplug from everything—Ipod, book, my own thoughts, and just let all the sights, smells, and sounds around me infiltrate my consciousness, I can really begin to know and enjoy a city—with all its quirks, idiosyncrasies, and flavors. I always hear a diversity of languages—from Chinese to French to Spanish to Russian, to Italian, to another unrecognizable tourist language. I always wish that I could understand their words fluently so that I could take part in their conversations, even if it’s just to listen in. But alas, they can converse without anyone eavesdropping. I can hear profanity uttered from the back-bus dwellers. I can hear people’s conversations about their day and their workplace, getting just a glimpse into their lives and their spheres of being.

Whenever I’m on the bus, BART, MUNI, or in any other public area, I cannot help but think where the strangers around me are coming from and where they are going. Where do they work? Where do they live? Do they have a family? Who are their friends? What do they enjoy doing? What is their favorite food? What are they thinking about underneath their Ipod earbuds? What kind of a person are they? What kind of conversation would we have? We are all living our lives separate from each other (or so we think) and for even just a minute or for a whole bus ride, we have infiltrated each other’s spheres. The thing that is so bizarre to think about is that with one “Hello, how are you?” to this stranger like I said to the elderly man on the LA Metrolink, we can break into this sphere. We can be part of each other’s life story for a small amount of time and maybe we will get the chance to know where each other is going. Our spheres may already touch somewhere, who knows? My hope is that six degrees of separation is not as complex as we think.

Los Angeles I'm Yours

Revisiting the concept of surreptitious meetings between people, I have had quite a few unexpected interactions and experiences riding public transportation in both San Francisco and LA which have been quite entertaining and enlightening. I have been spending quite a lot of time alone in the last couple weeks, as my aunt and uncle have gone out of town until next week. Therefore, I have spent a lot of time either home alone watching “That 70s Show,” baking crisp, watching soccer highlights, going on runs in this extremely hilly neighborhood, and writing posts like these or spending time people watching while walking in the neighborhood, taking public transit, and riding the wave of the crowds downtown.

I will start with LA, the city that this post is named after (I’m really not that enthralled with LA, I just like the Decemberists’ song “Los Angeles I’m Yours.”) After I left the highly emotional and over stimulating environment of Youth to Youth at Claremont McKenna College, I boarded the Metrolink train at the Claremont station bound for Union Station in downtown LA. I hadn’t seen one of my best friends from high school, Ester Kim, in over a year and was on a mission to get myself into the city so that I could spend the evening with her. Alone once again after spending a surreal week surrounded with people, when I arrived at the Claremont station, I was first unsure what to do. The station looked deserted and closed, so I panicked for a second whether trains were actually running. I walked around the station to see an older man probably in his 70s sitting complacently on a bench and saw a train ahead fast approaching the station. I didn’t have a ticket, so I asked the man how I could buy one. He said I wouldn’t have time as the train only stopped for a few minutes at a time.

The thing that I find most interesting about public transportation is that no one talks to each other. I ride the BART or MUNI to work every morning with hundreds of other people at a time I have not had one vocal conversation with any other commuter yet. Similar to my reflections on Youth to Youth, you never know when you will connect with someone at any time, including strangers on a train! I have always believed this to be true, but have never had a real captivating example of human connection until I rode Metrolink.

So, I boarded the train with the older man, sitting across from him because he seemed knowledgeable about the system and would be able to explain anything to me. He was holding a thick book that was written in what looked like Spanish or Italian at first glance. After a couple minutes of silent thought, I decided to surpass my fear of awkwardness and break the conversation barrier, asking the man if he took the train often. It turns out that this was all I needed to begin a captivating conversation. The man’s name name is Jerry and he rides the Metrolink often to go into the city for lectures and meetings for Los Angelian artists and visionaries. He is a retired art history professor and lives with his partner in Claremont. He taught at Pomona for years and now spends his time writing about how to teach art/painting or about very specific moments in Church history as they relate to sacred art. It was fascinating talking to him and even though he was somewhat hard of hearing, he sensed my interest in his stories of traveling abroad and studying art. He is fluent in Italian, German, French, and English and can get by with Spanish and various Scandinavian languages. It was unbelievable! His eyes would light up when he talked about his academic/professional interests which were also his personal interests and he liked to quote classic writers including one that I don’t remember who geniusly quoted, “For every language, there is a soul.” It’s so true! I feel like somewhat of a different person when I speak French and Jerry explained how a different personality of his comes out when he speaks German. He also explained the nuisance of just learning how to speak Italian…because one uses different muscles to speak this language, Jerry’s lips were often sore by the end of a day in Italy. These are only a few of the captivating stories that Jerry told me on this hour-long ride. We both enjoyed each other’s company, and it was interesting how eager he was to talk to me about his interests. Was he lonely or just excited to have someone to talk to about his interests?

After my overnight stay in LA with Ester where I discovered “LA Live,” a restaurant that had 138 beers on tap, and the fact that downtown Los Angeles is actually more green and tree-laden than downtown San Francisco AND Seattle (but not holding a candle to Portland), I took the Metrolink out east once again. This time I sat across from a middle-aged African American woman who I connected with right away. She was visiting LA as well and was riding the Metrolink for only the second time, just like me. She had come into the city to attend Michael Jackson’s funeral a few days prior and was staying with her cousin out east. Turns out that she is now living in the East Bay, so close to where I am currently living and had previously lived in Seattle for 13 years! Not only that, but she had lived in Shoreline where I lived only a month ago! Before that she lived in Portland!! Her brother lives in the same neighborhood that I grew up and he works at OHSU where Dad works. Finally, she had spent some time in Eugene where her daughter went to South Eugene High School, where my freshman roommate, Dewey, went. What a small, small world! We laughed together about all these crazy coincidences and she kept saying, “You are following me, girl!” It was awesome. When she got off the train, I realized I didn’t get her name.

These two stories reminded me of the fact that everyone on this planet craves human connection and meeting other people. It’s funny to me that I had to travel to LA to really realize this…who knew LA was so personable! Sharing stories is one of the most basic ways we can share our common humanity with each other. Once you break the invisible boundary with a first “Hello” or smile, you become acquainted. What’s crazy is that’s all it takes.