The Lonesome Traveler

 

A tip for a quick view of this blog: Click on the May posts, drag it to the bottom of the file, then put yr automatic scroll device to roll slowly upward. You'll see the whole first half of this train trip as you go from Berkeley to Boston. Then click on the April posts and do the same thing. Drag to the bottom and slow auto-scroll back up and you will have a view of scenes from Massachusetts and the train trip from Providence back to Berkeley. Remember go slow enough to read a few haiku as they go by.

A Word about the Photography

I used three disposable cameras for my travelogue. I was accustomed to a larger camera and had really never used them before. Thus, prior to this, I never had a problem with staying out of the way of my own photographs.
Here is a montage cropped from the foregoing photos. My fingertip is shown visiting Fall River, New York City, Westport, Montreal (2), and Colorado (from left to right).

Journal: New York to Boston

Semi-delirious from sleep-deprivation, exhaustion, and a wee puff , I waited in a ticketed-passenger lounge in Penn Station. Dispossessed stragglers roamed through the station corridors with no place to sit.
At 3 AM the train to Boston arrived and I boarded it for the last ride of the East-bound half of my trip. Typically, passengers who had boarded at earlier stops were half-asleep as people came and went. Not long after I had settled-in, the young lady across from me stirred. She became increasingly upset as she rummaged through her belongings and she quickly determined that her wallet was gone.
As discussions with other passengers and train staff ensued, it emerged that she had been caught by thieves with a recognized modes operandi. They take these late night trains counting on the probability that other passengers will be asleep. Then they exit at the stop before New York city. As they do, a team of two works the aisles looking for and snatching valuables from unsuspecting sleepers.
Her fate was somewhat mitigated by the fact that she would be met at the airport by friends. She was also able to immediately call her credit card issuer. I offered a few words of sympathy and fell asleep myself somewhere in Connecticut. But as always my money, traveler's checks, tickets and other essentials were kept on my person. Moreover, I am a rather light sleeper.

As I was beginning to see was customary, the train staff didn't seem much comfort.



(Journal will continue soon)

Greenwich Village Night Life

As much as I love the Robert Louis Stevenson story myself, I'd have to wonder about a gal who would look for a guy at a singles bar called Jeckyll and Hyde.






I shouldn't wonder what sort of fellow might seek companionship at a bar called The Fat Black Pussy Cat. Is this place an original hold-out or it is an ironic revival? It sounds like a throw-back to early-sixties naughty humor. Playboy magazine visits the Fat Black Pussycat.

26 November 2005

Surrealist New York

Washington Square Park


It was exceedingly strange that evening at around ten or eleven when I reached New York. I arrived at Penn station, checked my bag and took a subway to to St Mark's Place in the Village. There I was, instantly plunged into good old electric New York city with none of the customary nervous preamble. It was like surfacing in San Francisco after a BART ride from Berkeley. This is opposed to the familiar building tension, not to say terror, of coming in by car or by bus and seeing the endless highways, traffic, and buildings. If you are traveling into New York, may I recommend the train.








A shop window on Bleecker street.










(Journal to follow)

26 November 2005

Journal: Montreal to New York

This cold morning in late November, I walked downhill from from my hotel on Rue Stanley through the deserted downtown to the Montreal train station.

A striking replica of a building in the Vatican. I accepted the blessings of the skyline saints as I resumed my train travel.



















Nearing Lake Champlain
forest stands in floodwater
lake long as daylight










(Journal to follow)

Montreal Haiku

Snow in gusty bursts
manor room on mount royal
my roman a clef






In cafe windows
on Sainte Catherine street
a poet's white ghost






A book-of-hours sky
frames the city’s old quarter
buoyant in cold air






Animal figure
on snowy storefront sidewalk
empty winter street












In vieux Notre Dame
a double harpsichord fugue
wooden ships in mid-air






A maze of ice pools
surrounds the palace of ice
eerie alone there






Champs-de-Mars

Down from the old town
this terrace to the next train
no one knows I’m here






High rise ornaments
Christmas on other planets
the wreath of doom

November 2005