"Ola."
"Hello."
"Como estas?"
"Bien, gracias!"
"Hablo espanol?"
"Pokitos..."
"Ah... where are you from?"
"India."
"You look just like someone from Mexico. Do you work here?"
"Yes, I just started working here."
"You look like you're seventeen. Well, this is my stop, so I have to go, but it was very nice meeting you!"
"And you, too! I hope you have a good day today!"
"Thanks, and I hope you do too, senorita!"
I need to learn Spanish.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Friday, March 16, 2012
Simple Joy
My train station is a quiet little place near my home; while the world flies around it, people come and go, and there are moments where it is indeed so still that even a gentle breeze can be heard to whisper. Even during the day, these quiet moments are to be had, and they are mine for the taking, if I am so lucky. Fortunately, trains have timetables, and that helps too.
Take for example, the four minutes that exist on weekday mornings between 8:38 AM and 8:42 AM. At 8:38 AM comes the train going north to Downtown, and it picks up everyone on the station. Because everyone is going to work, to Downtown where the work is, in the morning. I am one of the lucky few that needs to go south to work. I may be joined perhaps by one or two other passengers going south in the morning. So, for the four minutes until 8:42 AM, when the train going south will come by, I am usually alone on the station. Alone with my lover, the wind.
Of course, these four minutes are also the best time to sing Caribbean Blue by Enya out loud on the station, where I am in full public view and hearing and yet nobody might see or hear me. It's my own little secret, thrown open to the world and yet hidden. It's sweet and yet sad. And strangely, it's a simple little joy.
Take for example, the four minutes that exist on weekday mornings between 8:38 AM and 8:42 AM. At 8:38 AM comes the train going north to Downtown, and it picks up everyone on the station. Because everyone is going to work, to Downtown where the work is, in the morning. I am one of the lucky few that needs to go south to work. I may be joined perhaps by one or two other passengers going south in the morning. So, for the four minutes until 8:42 AM, when the train going south will come by, I am usually alone on the station. Alone with my lover, the wind.
Of course, these four minutes are also the best time to sing Caribbean Blue by Enya out loud on the station, where I am in full public view and hearing and yet nobody might see or hear me. It's my own little secret, thrown open to the world and yet hidden. It's sweet and yet sad. And strangely, it's a simple little joy.
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