I've Been So Very Lazy

Well, while I planned on writing here on a regular basis, it just didn't work out that way. I might try to do this regularly, but my track record is sketchy at best. Here goes:

Commuting Patterns and Oddities

 

Let's look at my travels to and from work. 

 

 

My current daily commute goes as follows:

• Out the door at 6:38 for a brisk, 5 minute walk to the bus stop about 3 blocks away
• Bus picks me up at 6:45 for a 14 minute ride that takes me to the Bassendean bus/train station
• I take the Midland line train from Bassendean to Perth central station, which takes about 25 minutes
• I disembark at Perth and race up the stairs and then down the stairs to my next train. I ride the Fremantle line all the way to it's end at Freo. This ride starts at about 7:30, with an arrival at about 7:48
• A brisk 5 block walk from the train station to The Department of Housing and Works takes about 8 mins, and I arrive at about 8:00....ready for work!

All told, that's 1 hour 22 minutes from door to door each way, 2 hours 44 minutes daily, and nearly 14 hours a week! That feels like a lot of my life is being spent going to and fro.

 

That being said, I find that there ARE some things I find interesting on the "road" each day. I see the same old man walking his dog every day as I zoom through the park right by our house. He's always at about the same place on his walk when I pass him, and he nods to me and I nod to him every day. I see several people on the bus every day, and while we don't greet each other per se, we always establish I contact. They sit in the same seat; I stand at the same spot.  Most everyone sits in their own seat, hoping no one will choose to sit with them on the "two-seaters". Some look much more aggressive at holding their seat than others, and those that convey positive body language get a seatmate somewhere along the route. I recognize many of the drivers too; one older fella that has a killer moustache drives faster than all the others, and clips the edges of the circles in the roundabouts every single day, and I watch everyone onboard as they jostle as he hits the edges...every time.

 

While I wait for the first train at Bassendean I frequently see the sun burst orange on the horizon in the five minutes I wait there. I also see many of the same commuters staking-out the spot they KNOW is going to be closest to the door of the least-crowded train car. I've become quite good at this game as I pay attention to the positioning each day and tweak and torque my own spot just a little as the days progress. Standing is my only option on this train no matter which car I choose as those that got on at the first few stations fill up all the seats. These riders convey a certain smugness to those of us "latecomers" and I try not to resent that, as I'll be one of them on my second train of the day.

 

It's interesting how my concept of "personal space" has altered so dramatically through my train travel. Gone is the thought that people shouldn't impinge on what I previously believed was a sacred zone around my body. While it's nothing like the trains in Tokyo where white overall clad "packers" shove people together like sardines in a can, Pertherts recognize the need to squeeze. I now know to put my bag down between my feet (Kindle removed and in hand, iPod loaded and in place) once I've taken my suitable spot, 'cause I'll not get another chance to reach down 'til I'm in the city and changing trains.

 

While Bassendean-boarders rarely get a seat, they all DO get on. Those further down the track towards town are not so lucky. Bayswater is the next major stop, and the crowds that gather around the doors start to get serious about finding a spot once we load-up the train cars there. Maylands is the next burg of note, and I always look out the windows as we pull up there for the customary 20 second stop. The looks on the  faces of those that jockey for position there, ranges from irritation to mild fear to outright panic as they realize there's simply no way they'll get a chance to board. I wonder how many will be late for work simply because they live too far down the track?

 

Perth station is controlled chaos as the morning crowd weaves up the various staircases and escalators, all moving in patterns much like schools of fish colliding on the reef. All it takes is a slow-walking senior citizen or a mom with a toddler (or God forbid a confused tourist!) to wreak havoc with the frantic flows of humanity. People move with steely determination and you don't want to mess with that.

 

These people are just a little different than those that ended their rides in Perth. Gone now are the bankers, clerks, and all those that I deem "downtown folk". Now we've got students in their crisp uniforms with matching backpacks and violin cases, nannies headed for the wealthy suburbs, and a few like me that are headed all the way to Freo. Some head to the University there, or the port for a stevedore job loading ships, or even to something as mundane as work at a restaurant catering to tourists. 

 

As I pass through the wealthy suburb of Cottesloe, the train splits the Swan river on one side, and the ocean on the other. Suddenly the coastline reveals itself to the west, and the sun slants low from the east, softly lighting the massive container ships lined up in the harbour. I sometimes see dolphins breaching in the tidewater at the river mouth, and it's then that I think this commute may not be so hellish. I could be stuck in a car, in gridlock traffic, surrounded by concrete in a gray city.

 

I offload in Freo and smell the ocean as soon as the doors part. Aussies think it's cold and take the opportunity to show-off their new scarves and jackets. My thick blood thinks it's perfect and I stride with purpose down the street to my job. I pass a beautiful church in the square filled with vendors setting-up their stands. I might come back there for a lunch of spring rolls or kebabs or sausage rolls.

 

This is how I start my weekday.