More clouds and light on the ride home

Storm clouds ahead

Today I met a biker.

Some people just thrum with life. You know what I mean? There are people in the world who seem to enjoy every moment, to take pleasure in the simple act of being alive. It doesn't mean they are always happy go lucky, just that they have somehow gotten the memo that this is our one shot on earth.

Alas, I think these people are few and far between, but when you come across them you feel the vibration they give off and it reminds you that life is here to savor.

Anywho, today I met a biker. Well, I didn't really meet him. Mostly I listened to him chat with a lovely gentleman who wore a big vest and a blue scarf with a Saints flag on his bicycle. Then I listened to him exclaim his pleasure at seeing an old friend who rode onto the ferry right before we took off for Algiers. The biker's bike was laden with gear bags and he was dark from the sun with sinewy muscles that told the story of many many miles.

He took a picture of the man with the Saints flag and then asked to take my picture as I perched at my usual spot on the rail. I said yes and afterwards he came over to chat.

I didn't get his name but I know that he has adventured on his bicycle from California, up to Seattle, across to Washington DC, then to New Orleans to stay with a friend. 8,500 miles. He had bright blue eyes and enthusiasm radiated from him.

8,500 miles of crossing paths with complete strangers, engaging in a thousand points of connection with fellow human beings you know you will never see again, but enjoy getting to know for the briefest of moments all the same. Now that is adventure.

In praise of bowties

I don't think there are many people who would call me fashionable. More than one person, in fact, has called my style "lazy chic" and I don't know that they meant it as a compliment.

I like comfortable clothes. I like plaid flannel. Quilted plaid flannel. There are people in the world who count this fact among the reasons they love me, but just because they love me for it doesn't mean I don't look like the Michelin Man most of the winter.

What's strange is that I like clothes. I do. I like knee high boots and chunky sweaters and all manner of scarves. But I like to mix them in weird combinations, and I only like them if they are super comfortable, which in this day and age of sequins and bedazzled jean pockets means that I usually end up looking frumpy and like I got dressed in the dark.

It's even more important for me to choose comfort and utility over fashion now that I am a bicycle commuter. But I can't look like a slob at work, so what's a person to do?

There is a man who rides the ferry with me who wears a jacket and a bow tie every day. He rides in on his bicycle looking dapper and cool as a cucumber even as I lumber on, hair already mussed beyond repair, sweating and panting. At the end of the day he still looks completely put together. Bow ties are very underrated. If you are a professor, you should wear them. If you are young and ironic, you should wear them. If you want to delight me, you should wear them.

I can't take a picture of the wonderful bow-tied gent and his neckwear without getting in his face, and so instead I leave you with an example of my best guess at "fashionable, work-appropriate, breezy, stretching bicycle commuting" fashion: flat boot, stretch jeans, flowy shirt for aeration. Voila!

What's your favorite bicycle attire? Any fashion tips for me?

Look Up

I’d like to ask you: who owns the sky? The sky cannot answer for itself tonight, for it is very very busy. Looking up from my perch at the ferry rail, I see a flock of starlings weaving themselves into and out of tangled knots of wing and beak in perfect accord, not one feather out of sync. A little above them hovers a blimp, here to spy on the BCS National Championship. A little to the south of this bright blue behemoth and blip of birdies a helicopter skitters past my line of vision, slicing and dicing the air on its way to somewhere important. And even higher above this fray three planes leave white wisps in their wake. Finally, Paul the pelican swoops in front of me. I hope there is some sort of treaty agreement among those who use the sky tonight. What must the birds think of all of these flying hunks of metal hanging in their territory?

In the desert, you can look up and see nothing but blue. Try it sometime. Lay on the ground and roll your eyes to either side, all the way up, then back down again and you will see only a blank blue palette for the clouds to paint. Take a deep breath and you will smell the earth.

Do the same in a city and you will likely see a building or three, a plane, a billboard.. Breathe deeply and you will most likely get a lung-full of exhaust fumes. It’s overwhelming

Nowadays we have to run far away from a city to even get a glimpse of nature, to not have our entire line of sight filled with advertisements for laundry detergent or candy bars. And god forbid you ask for a little peace and quiet in a city. Sirens, car stereos, horns and on and on until the very concept of silence is foreign to most of us, and makes us nervous to even think about.

I read this essay not long ago on Orion Magazine’s website about how hard it is to find even one square inch of silence in the modern world. I can’t stop thinking about the essay, not only because it is so beautifully written but because I am astounded just thinking about the lengths we go to nowadays to experience the things that are our natural birthright. As the author says, the air is owned by all of us. We all have a right to enjoy it and a responsibility to care for it. Same goes for water, by the by. All that blue sky belongs to you and me and we’ve filled it with junk. Somehow over time we’ve come to accept that the places we live and breathe will be filled with noise and billboards and concrete, and that nature is a faraway place we can escape to when we need to “get away from it all”. But at what point did, say, Alaska Airlines’ right (you gotta read the essay to get this point) to fly over a protected wilderness area automatically trump my right to enjoy a little peace and quiet?

We’ve got to stop acting like nature is someplace apart from where we live and breathe and start exercising our right to demand a patch of blue every now and again, even on the eve of the BCS football game. Take the blimps and leave me the birdies.

They've got it figured out

Here comes the oil carrier Overseas Texas City.








And this boat has a special message for you:






(in case you can't read the wording, it says "Protect the Environment")

Love letter from a discarded rope to the piling

Perhaps
to the untrained eye
the patterns we wove,
    intricate,
         delicate,
were never meant to last.
But I know.

And you know

that against your smooth sides
I discover my shape.
That with the right balance
of tension and give
we could hold fast forever.

Against wind.
And wave.
Against even time.

And when we unravel
(as everyone does!)
I’ll wait,
curling around myself
frayed but still strong,
longing to bind myself to you
when we meet again.

So this is the new year.

Happy 2012! Do you think the Mayans were on to something? What if this is our last year on Earth? Would you do anything differently? What should a New Years' resolution look like for the last year on Earth? Eat MORE fried food? Drink more good whiskey? Use the fine china to eat pizza on a Wednesday? Tell people you love that you love them?

I love the turning of the year and the unfurling of a new set of 365 days to do it all a little better. And even though I am a creature of habit and find it hard to stick to resolutions, I appreciate the effort, and every once in a while one sticks and I feel more open to the possibility that exists all around us all the time. Even on Tuesdays in the middle of March.

My 2012 resolution for this frivolous folly of a blog is the same as when I started it-- to spend my days with my eyes open, alert to small moments of joy, to little bits and pieces of color and shape and movement and humanity and laughter that make life seem to mean more on a daily basis.

And so, with that, here is my recap of the first week of 2012 on the Algiers Ferry.

1. A middle-aged couple riding back to the West Bank, drinking beer from a can wrapped in a brown paper bag warning a group of obnoxious tourist teenagers (all somewhat overweight, extra-earnest young people in matching turquoise shirts that stated their printed desire to serve God and the world) who were leaning precariously over the railing and egging each other on to jump in and go for a swim that "the Mississippi will eat you alive baby. You don't swim in that river." After their friendly admonishment, we struck up a conversation while waiting for the cars to offload when all of a sudden the woman saw a familiar face waiting to board with his bicycle. Pee-Wee was his name and apparently he and the woman were an item at one point. The man she is with now didn't seem to think much of Pee-Wee and informed me that he in fact was a much better kisser than Pee-Wee because he didn't have any teeth. (Author's note: I need someone who has kissed a toothless man to please verify that they are better kissers for me. Much obliged.)

2. A wonderful cyclist knitting an orange and white hat that contained knit images of horses with fire under their hooves. I am so so jealous of her talent--I've never progressed beyond garter stitch scarves. Her bicycle is decoupaged as well. I think I'm in love.

3. Tuesday morning was exceedingly cold. So cold that my cheeks felt numb. But I woke early enough to make myself a pot of coffee and brought it with me. So on that frosty cold morning I stood on the rail and drank my coffee and warmed my hands on the thermos and felt quite satisfied with myself and the brisk air. The Irish Cream helped a little. 
4. Mr. A was working the ferry when this behemoth sailed by. It is a huge container ship registered in Monrovia. The back of the ship looked like the theater where the muppets would all sing in their respective nooks. I was talking to Mr. A when the ship passed us and we saw the back, so I didn't pull out my camera to snap a picture, but Mr. A agreed and hummed a few bars of the muppets theme with me. 

5. I saw a steaming bowl of cloud soup. And it was delicious.

Happy Friday!

Finally, a bird in the position of poopee instead of pooper! Hope everyone is enjoying their morning as much as I am!