Bus Report #1046
Assuming the worst (late bus) I lingered over my tea this morning, the NextBus web page refreshing itself on my laptop nearby. I was planning for the late bus so when NextBus told me my regular bus was actually on the schedule, I gulped the tea, grabbed my bag and crammed my feet into my shoes.
I was out the door and most of the way down the block in a minute.
Clement street was dark, and damp, a peachy pink sunrise coming up over the buildings down in Laurel Heights.
At the bus stop I caught up with the woman from St. Mary's and with Alain, who decided not to take his bike to work today.
He'd been planning to make bagels a couple weeks ago. I asked how it went.
"They were... how do you say it? Too thin? And you were right, you have to boil them before you bake."
"But were they good?" I asked.
"Very good."
When the bus arrived it was already crowded. The woman who drinks that awful, awful garlic tea sat in her usual spot, steaming Thermos of tea in front of her.
We sped through the neighborhood, coasted down Haight Street. Did everyone else sleep in this morning? When will it be my turn?
Regulars hopped on, and other folks - a shuffling old man in dirty clothes, who slumped into the seat across from me. Another man, in a dusty sweatshirt, his haircut uneven, sat in front of me for most of the ride.
No sign of the giant genie, none of the sewing ladies who usually get on at Mission.
The dueling tamale sellers* on Mission Street sold their tamales, the woman surrounded by day laborers and kids on their way to school. The man sells Nicaraguan tamales, nacatamales, and one of these days I plan to get one from him. Love those. For every three customers the woman has, he has just one.
*I've never actually seen any dueling, but they station themselves about 6 feet apart on the sidewalk, so they could start at any moment...
I was out the door and most of the way down the block in a minute.
Clement street was dark, and damp, a peachy pink sunrise coming up over the buildings down in Laurel Heights.
At the bus stop I caught up with the woman from St. Mary's and with Alain, who decided not to take his bike to work today.
He'd been planning to make bagels a couple weeks ago. I asked how it went.
"They were... how do you say it? Too thin? And you were right, you have to boil them before you bake."
"But were they good?" I asked.
"Very good."
When the bus arrived it was already crowded. The woman who drinks that awful, awful garlic tea sat in her usual spot, steaming Thermos of tea in front of her.
We sped through the neighborhood, coasted down Haight Street. Did everyone else sleep in this morning? When will it be my turn?
Regulars hopped on, and other folks - a shuffling old man in dirty clothes, who slumped into the seat across from me. Another man, in a dusty sweatshirt, his haircut uneven, sat in front of me for most of the ride.
No sign of the giant genie, none of the sewing ladies who usually get on at Mission.
The dueling tamale sellers* on Mission Street sold their tamales, the woman surrounded by day laborers and kids on their way to school. The man sells Nicaraguan tamales, nacatamales, and one of these days I plan to get one from him. Love those. For every three customers the woman has, he has just one.
*I've never actually seen any dueling, but they station themselves about 6 feet apart on the sidewalk, so they could start at any moment...
posted by Rachel at 8:38 AM
1 Comments:
I love popping on here every so often and reminding myself of your wonderful city and great neighbourhood. Which reminds me, when are you coming to Vancouver for a visit?
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