Monday, March 2, 2009

The wheels on the bus

Everyone on this island has similar dietary practices and therefore all smell alike.  The bus is the place you smell it the most.  

I was sitting on the bus on a bench seat big enough for me and another small person, so a ten year old boy sat beside me.  We rode along like that until we came to a bus stop and the doors opened. The boy and I simultaneously sat up, scooted to the edge of the bench, waiting and watching for old people.  

It is understood here that youth and able-bodied persons give up their seats for middle-aged women and grandparent types.  When only college and high school aged people got on, the boy and I both sat back.  In that moment I understood I was part of this island, following their customs and social cues, and just like the boy, every bit at home.

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