Bus Rider Blues

Today, Feb. 10/15, the New York Times publishes the sad truth about why some public transport projects seemed doomed:

Because riders 'perceive a train as better than a bus' - even though buses often are faster.
The writer quotes a 2009 Federal Transit Administration report but gives updated examples. 

Botanical Wonders at My Doorstep

The U.S Botanic Garden at the foot of Capitol Hill - improbable creation when you think about it  but more of its history later - can cheer a cold city person in an instant. Not only  immersion into a tropical (nearly fantastical) world of sights and smells but  of a host of lectures and exhibits to take a person's mind off wintry woes. The banana plant currently is showing off two multi=colored sinuous bloom at one entrance to the conservatory. A kindly docent not far away sits behind a desk in front of a cocoa tree explaining the varied uses of that plant's product with display items to touch and smell. Lo, the wonder: nuts from the shell of the bean that makes cocoa, soap and delicious chocolate. In a lecture hall at that moment a guest ethane-economic botanist from New York is giving a slide show about medical uses of tropical  herbs and plants - starting with the Sumerian age 2500 years ago when cannabis and opium were known. Then to the papyrus rushes of Egypt that became bandaids with the use of honey.  An hour's worth of exotic information, a trip on the screen to healers in Micronesia. The surprise of the day: kava taken in cupfuls by that area's natives does as well or better than valium. Who dares think modern medicine knows it all?

Miami Deco

The third weekend of January in Miami this year was Art Deco Weekend coinciding neatly with Miami's year-long 100th anniversary, though it is difficult sometimes to relate the beach island with mainland Miami. Two different worlds, beyond which are other smaller worlds, such as 'Little Havana' where conversation must have been more heated than usual, given the latest  US-Cuba 'rapprochement.' Congregants on Miami Beach, where much of Ocean Drive was closed off to traffic on two days, were more interested in good times and good shopping, it would appear. See, Mamma, the acrobat on stilts, a Carmen Miranda lookalike throwing kisses into the crowd. Lincoln Road as usual awash in commercial offers, a slog of familiar brands along the palm-bedecked strip. The blessings of sunshine cover the shady side of life. 'Welcome to the capital of South America' ocean banners might have read in tribute to the investment offshore citizens have made in the city. One of Sunday afternoon's highlights: a bandstand erected just behind the dunes on park land, complete with bar and dance floor. A couple maneuvering with aplomb to the rhythms of the Robert Rodriguez jazz orchestra attired in sport shirts and dark shades against the waning afternoon sun. Folding chairs for audience members, among them a  comely lass in a bra of fake leaves and long shirt. Farther south on the beach a manicured park with a  newly-completed fishing pier  that has a stone sink with hose for cleaning the catch, such as it is. A man with a fishing pole on the channel side calling over to his wife some 50 yards away: their lines had caught in the water. A dog tethered to a post at the entry since NO dogs, etc., were allowed on the walkway. So goes a Sunday afternoon in Miami, languorous and deceiving.

Metro Notes: Etiquette

Take a look:

This is what is known as man spreading. The empty seat or half empty seat beside him might have welcomed the woman standing on the right, but in his present pose I don't suppose she would want to try invading his space.

Woman spreading also occurs on Washington's Metro: women too large to fit comfortably in one seat or women with too many packages who don't want to share.
Why harp on petty things when Metro management can't seem to get its signals (all kinds) straight. When riders must now wonder every time they board a train what mishap or worse might occur.
Regarding the smoke fatality: Didn't anyone think that inhalation in the cars might be dangerous and mandate emergency measures as soon as possible? Doesn't Metro want to own up as quickly as possible to its relations with the DC Fire Department who, in last reports, delayed evacuation due to poor coordination of information on whether 3d rail circuit turned off? Didn't someone (who?) need to tell firemen that another rail line was operating safely and to ignore it?
Where is Mayor Bowser in this? Why isn't she being more outspoken about the service problems of Metro? How many members of the Metro board ride trains or buses?

Metro Notes #?

On a cold wet gray day I am in a Metro car reading from a library book that I like so much I cannot bear to leave it at home. A few minutes extra to be absorbed in the text is all I expect so I hunker down, concentrate. But it never is possible to stay isolated on a subway car. The man in front of me is slaked out, deadbeat, mumbling to himself as he slides into a soporific pose. The woman across  the aisle looks wide awake by contrast. Even more so, it would seem, when she looks me over and reads the title of the book in my hands. Before long, she has moved over to the empty seat beside me, asking  abruptly "How do you like that book?" ('Lila,' by Marilynne Robinson, 3rd in a trilogy set in the mythical Gilead, in Iowa. The book's dedication reads" To IOWA.) She is casually and warmly dressed, and has an easy manner about her. No introductions are necessary, I feel.. Had I read the other two books, she wonders. I answer at once and say, smiling in response,  how it might be possible to have a reading group in the subway somewhere, how there once (DC or NYC?) had been lines of poetry spelled out in the cars or on the billboards spread out on platforms, and whatever happened to those? Oh, yes, it was New York, she asserts. I continue with my idea (still sure I saw some similar effort on Metro), imagining how Metro's any book readers might connect through a bulletin board, or a sign in a station, recommending or not various titles. Then suddenly we are at  Metro Center.  Up on our feet and out the door, doing in two different directions. No goodbye. No need for one.
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Curious how the same night on a return trip from downtown, I decide to study my fellow passengers shoes. As though it is possible to tell a person's background or personality by what they wear on their feet. A couple waiting on the platform in front of me look vaguely familiar - at least enough so I let my eyes linger on both their faces and feet. He has on sturdy brown shoes of no particular distinction. The woman, whom he draws close in a slight brief embrace, is in sturdy stylish black flats secured to her feet by broad velcro bands. The shape of the shoe is entirely familiar to me: they are a mirror image of the same style I am wearing at the moment. I follow the feet until we arrive at our stop, then lose them in the crowd.

Boundary Matters

Yes, boundaries matter. Especially when it comes to planning the original District of Columbia. Originally, it was  a 100 square mile federal territory stretching across the Potomac River into Maryland and Virginia, with marker stones in place every ten miles. A geographer's dream, or maybe nightmare. although the first survey was led by a major (Andrew Ellicott -  think Maryland's Ellicott City)  with the help of astronomer and surveyor Benjamin Banneker - namesake of one of the modern city's major academic public high schools. Of the original 40 milestones on four lines, 36 remain: most of them sturdy sandstone blocks behind iron railings -  the oldest federally placed monuments in the US, claims Wikipedia. They are worth a look, often entailing a colorful walk to out-of-the-way places. Or accessible at unusual places that few passersby would bother to notice. Look on the southwestern side :
-At a cornerstone now in a seawall of Jones Point Lighthouse, 1 Jones Point Drive, Alexandria, Va. Not far from the Woodrow Wilson Bridge traffic streaming overhead over the square's south corner. River view guaranteed.
-Southwest No. 3 boundary marker in the parking lot of the First Baptist Church, 2952 King St. Don't bump into it while backing up...
- Southwest No. 6 in a grassy lane divider on So. Jefferson St., south of junction with Columbia Pike, on your way to REI and Gold's Gym. (Pull over and park, then  carefully cross the road while cars go whizzing by honking at you.)
One could joke and say the stones mark the only time when Washington DC really was attuned to order. given that its citizens are 'stateless," their home officially a disenfranchised 'federal district,' since their federal election votes don't matter. Stuck inside the boundary.

Pyramid Complex

Guess what, and where?


A piece of public art in a provocative place. The angle may be confusing, but the idea is to tease those who consider themselves fervent cityscape lovers and who may have recently walked the Southwest turf by the sea. Look around  and you may stumble upon a sculpture of familiar proportions  - so much of Washington seems built on pyramid schemes - literal and figurative, the hierarchical mode being a common pattern.  Rankings are rife, to say the least. This probably wasn't Byron Peck's idea when he produced the colorful tile piece in 2011. A plaque says it is to honor 'Diamond Teague and the other Earth Conservation Corps volunteers who devote their lives to the restoration of the Anacostia River."