Observations: Day 8.5

Yesterday, I sent postcards, spent time outside in the sun, and went to the Flores area to help with a music class in one of the villas, and then attend a Bible study at the church again. I spent the night with the Zs. I feel much better.

Now, I would like to post some of my observations of the trip so far, rather than just rattle off the activities that fill each day. Here goes.

Getting on the subte at the Carabobo station, the train is mostly empty at this hour; a few older men, a few young women, maybe some middle-age businessmen, and definitely no school children, for it's school time. If I'm lucky, it is one of the old trains--those that are not yet out of commission, from decades long past. The all-wood interior is softly lit by overhead lamps of an antique sort of style, a refreshing distinction from the fluorescent ocular horror of subte hallways and newer trains. I board the train car, and watch the handhold rings that have supported decades of people rock gently back and forth. As I ride from one end of the A line to the other, I look forward to the unidentifiable smell that accosts my nose at about Castro Barrios, or a little bit sooner. It is a warm, welcoming, woody scent, almost sauna-like but drier. I don't know if anybody else even notices it. I certainly have no idea what's causing it. Maybe it is best to just enjoy it.

Eventually, it is time to get off at Peru, and hop on the D line home. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven stops later on a new train. The uglier ones, sans-character. The main activities of passengers: sleep, listen to iPod, look at one another. What an amusement to watch people watch other people, knowing that you yourself are most likely meanwhile being watched.

Walk the four blocks home, one straight shot on Agüero. Pull out the keys, but not too prematurely--don't want to flash the fact that soon I'll be a bit distracted opening a door, prime time for those inclined to rob me. Successfully and quickly open the door, walk through, make sure it shuts well. Bien cerrada, okay, going up. I take the stairs, for a bit more movement. Besides, it's only two flights. Unlock the front door--two separate locks and keys--and open the door. By now I know to expect no one else there; a transformation that occurred very quickly, thankfully. The space is mine, for better or for worse. 

Open the curtains, pull up the shutters, let some natural light in. The same in my bedroom, the other bedroom. Ahhh. Open the balcony doors, sit there. The air is fresh and, today, cool. I should clear the table, it's a mess. I should switch my clothes from the first bedroom to the other--I switched to the one with the better-but-smaller mattress. I should go get cash.

But for the moment, I am content to sit here; just myself and the city sounds, and my guitar within an arm's reach.