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Today we spent the whole day studying maps and learning to
ride the bus. I haven't really used a bus to get around since
college but now I have new motivation. In the US, the people who
travel by bus are often in a bad mood about it, the routes are limited,
and the wait can be substantial. I didn't care for it and that
was in a town
where I could read all the street signs or could just ask if I
was completely lost. Here I might as well be an
illiterate-deaf-mute.
Its really not so bad though. More people ride
the bus in France, many of whom are elderly, so everyone is more
courteous
and patient. I watched the bus driver wait for one fellow as he
started to get off then returned to his seat to get his
cellphone. In the US the driver would have probably have sped off
or at least offered verbal abuse. Because the busses are used,
there
is support for them, so the routes have expanded to cover most places
you might choose to
travel--which makes the bus usable and makes people respect them (Note
the bus at left has drapes. In the US these would have been
ripped to shreds after the first time the bus driver sped off to annoy
a passenger who was probably already in a bad mood.) It is a
little disconcerting at first to not know which
bus to get on or which stop to get off but the choices are
finite. Bus travel reduces one's world to a discrete set of
time-space events that can be grasped independent of how they are
related. The winding route through town and the confusing
intersections are reduced to a line on the schedule with a series of
dots to represent
destinations. You
step into a door at one location and step out of the same door at a new
location. If
you are at the wrong stop you merely wait to
try again. I do feel like an illiterate deaf-mute but I can
assume that no one can tell. I met a Brazilian today who
doesn't speak any French but gets along with just English (I assume
that not many people in Southern France speak Portuguese). He did
get lost on his first day here when he loaded his luggage
and his wife onto a train and then got left behind without any ticket,
money, phone, or passport. The train people said they couldn't
help him, wouldn't send him on for free and wouldn't let him sleep in
the station. In the morning the police were much more attentive
when they found him sleeping on the ground outside. I guess his
wife finally came and got him. In any case, he seemed to have
survived the experience in good humor and didn't show any direct signs
of mental
trauma. I guess I can be as resilient.
It is fortunate that I am studying art because I am basically
open to learning from whatever odd set of circumstances get thrown at
me. If you can't read, understand or speak the language you come
to rely on sight and internal cues. It seems normal
that the little bit of fear and feelings of inadequacy for not being
capable of
such a mundane thing as finding ones way home is helpful in
heightening one's awareness. The sounds of the city, the intent
of the people even the smells are more potent. Everything is
unknown so nothing is completely ignorable. On the other hand,
you
can't really
process constant newness. I grasp for meaning and purpose in the
words on signs and the pictures in advertising. When I do
recognize something familiar like a place that I've been before or a
voice in my language it comes through with shocking clarity.
Advertisements for products and business pursuits share the same goals
everywhere so I find them a comforting set of landmarks. When you
can't read, graffiti is as meaningful as
any other scramble of letters and in some ways is much more
interesting. I'm beginning to like graffiti. My favorite so
far is one artist who goes by the tag JERK. I'm not sure he
realizes what it means in english but it seems very appropriate.
6 Sept. 05
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