While walking home from school a few days ago, I decided to time the trip. It turns out that traveling from my office door to my apartment door takes one hour. In that hour, I pass by all kinds of surprises. Sometimes it’s a free hugs campaign in front of the central department store. Sometimes it’s a set of five Pekingese trundling along in a magically untangled web of leashes.
It wasn’t too long ago that I considered the drive from home to Baltimore to take a long time— one hour. Mostly freeways made up the route, and chances are that I saw a lot more in that distance than I do in the same amount of time here. Still, despite occasional traffic jams and construction—the majority of which were admittedly fairly predictable, too— I usually knew just about exactly what to expect. I don’t mean that I didn’t appreciate the scenery, NPR, or my own car. I do miss those things.
Here, though, I’m definitely surprised much more often. On the way home, it’s nothing to pass by an Orthodox church streaming live music into the neighborhood, then to be followed by this music until turning a corner, where it’s suddenly replaced by someone practicing the trumpet, probably very close to an open fifth-floor window. Another turn, and now it’s techno on the third floor of a different building and a chorus of unexpected ring tones from all angles. One more turn, and the church music returns, mixed with the flurry of soccer— uh, football-playing children.
It’s this sort of collage that I like best— not just one really amazing moment, but a variety of layers of different bits all stuck together in an unexpected way. I mean, when my five-year-old host nephew started singing “I like to move it move it” at the dinner table. When I found a yoga class with an instructor named Taras. When I found that even sweet little old ladies in seemingly remote places have cell phones. When the Applied Linguistics Department’s phonetics contest on December 25th included both a rousing rendition of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” and a recitation of “Annabelle Lee.”
Now it’s spring— mostly— and I’m excited to see more and more people out concocting new surprises. Of course, they just see it as life, but I’m so interested in each development: the actual sea of flowers that appears for Women’s Day, the profusion of willow branches on Palm Sunday, the lines at both the “cheap bread” and “fresh bread” stands, the way men will cross the street to shake each others’ hands, the sudden appearance of an unexpectedly English song on the marshrutka radio… Last week I wanted to laugh really loudly when marshrutka number nine was suddenly Rick-rolled… but I decided I’d keep that news to myself.
Of course, I sometimes miss getting places faster, but I don’t miss missing what’s in between the two points. The shortest difference definitely does not pass through Ukraine, but I’m glad I do.
Ahhhhh!
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