Skip to main content

Bike 2

I love the things I see when I bike. These things aren't necessarily hidden from those on other modes of transportation, they're just harder to notice where metal, glass, and speed put barriers between you and your environment.

I love passing the fountain behind the Legislature, with its peaceful roar of water and its nighttime luminiscence. It's silent now, but it'll be a sign that spring has come to stay when it's turned on again, and will signal it's time to hunker down for winter when they turn it off.

I love smelling the flowers in spring and summer, again, by the Legislature, where the smell of the Shubert cherry blossoming in spring is enchanting.

I love the palpable quiet on snowy days when the white blanket muffles sounds, lending the streets a veneer of peacefulness.

I love the view of downtown from the Norwood Bridge at twilight when the fierypink horizon deepens to a deep purple dome behind the grey towers. Or the view of St. Boniface with the trees along the banks of the river covered in hoarfrost as the silent cathedral facade stands stately to the side. And the skaters and pedestrians moving slowly along the river trail in winter.

And I love stumbling upon interesting "urban wildlife" which I likely wouldn't notice in a car. I saw the CMU president striding purposely through downtown, dressed as someone travelling on foot or bus, not car, and I respect her for that.

And it made my day to see in Central Park, on a vibrant but tiny patch of soccer green -- the only surface not road or sidewalk that had so fully thrown off its snow cover-- a bunch of young soccer players (half of whom I'd likely have recognized from homework club had I stopped to watch them play). Enough of hockey. This is a true sign of spring -- when the soccer players return to the parks!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Whose death matters?

In June of 2024, a man was just riding his bike to work. Early in the morning when traffic should be low to nonexistent. Wearing a helmet and a reflective vest.  A racing driver lost control and plowed him over.  Anyone who bikes in this city was grieved and outraged.  This stretch of roadway is designated as a bike route. There's a little green sign with a bicycle icon to tell you that. The wide road that invites speeding certainly doesn't. How does a person even drive 159 km/hr on a sleepy residential street within city limits? (Because the street is too damn wide.) For about as long as it has existed, the cycling advocacy organization has identified this stretch of roadway as a route in critical need of remediation to make it safer.  So, within a week, temporary safety measures had been rolled out. Reduced speed limit signs were erected, poly posts narrowed the roadway and speed cameras made sure folks took it seriously.  Ha ha ha ha ha ha. No. 20, 40,...

Money

The high incidence of money talk here is surprising to me, given the scarcity of either hard cash or savings accounts. Not that no one has money here, but living a basically subsistence existence off a jungle farm with only one major crash crop a year means you never have a whole lot of cash -- either on paper or in hand. We're currently entering the season of money here in Bekondo, when the cocoa crop is mostly harvested, dried and sold to buyers. Christmas is party time, not because of Christ but because of cash. It's a lively time for parties, running a generator to power lights and music, trucking in drinks to flow with goodwill. It's the time when schools put their foot down and demand tuition fees be paid or students leave. It's a time of increased crime because people are travelling to visit family and money is around. Taxis double and triple in price -- because they can -- until December 25th, after which the frenzy abruptly stops and prices return to normal (so...

Infidel again

I just finished reading Infidel and I have to say I greatly respect this woman. What a story. And what a character, to have endured it all and emerged a determined, principled, passionate but not bitter or unyielding woman. A quote from her book: People are always asking me what it's like to live with death threats. It's like being diagnosed with a chronic disease. It may flare up and kill you, but it may not. It could happen in a week, or not for decades. The people who ask me this have usually grown up in rich countries, Western Europe and [North] America, after the Second World War. They take life for granted. Where I grew up, death is a constant visitor. Which reminds me -- on a related topic, one of the things that bothers me about Islam is how often its followers' reactions to offences are so disproportionate. A Western journalist composes editorial cartoons satirizing the Prophet Mohammad; violence erupts in the Middle East, including attacks on the Danish and Norwe...