Conference, Part Two
Oct. 9th, 2005 11:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
brigdhSometimes telling stories of trips really bores me. Inevitably, once a few days have passed on an event, I start to feel as though it's over, it's done, it wasn't that important, it wasn't that interesting, and I can't bring myself to write it all out, because *sigh* live in the now, people.
Sometimes, you know, I am a such a bitch. But this is why I never can make very good "What I Did On My Summer Vacation" posts; I can never convince myself that any of the stories are worth telling. Because I'm kind of in that mood right now, I instead present you with a list of moments.
1. Madison, being Wisconsin's capital (who knew?), has a huge state building right in the middle of the city. Since there are no skyscrapers, or anything at all over a few stories tall, the white dome of this building is visible from all around, especially at night, when it's light up and glows like an unshaded lightbulb, some small golden statue on the very top gleaming.
2. Food carts cluttered the streets of the campus, sort of like the guys who sell hotdogs or gyros, except much better. They were wooden and wheeled, just large enough to fit one person inside and a small stove. The outside was covered in hand-done paintings and the latest version of the menu. I saw a Mexican one, a Jamaican one, a Greek one, two Thai ones, and a Chinese one, and I only walked down one street.
3. The next day the same street was cluttered with a sort of farmer's market, except of course it's too late for most crops and most of the booths were selling jewelry or blankets or paintings. There were some vegetables, and I saw people walking around with bizarrely shaped gourds most of the day. Early in the morning, as I was walking to to the first session of the conference and wondering if that was really my breath I was seeing frosting in the air, a man had set up what sounded like a bongo drum and was singing a gospel hymn. I couldn't see him from where I was walking, but his voice carried between the buildings, echoing around the still-empty streets.
4. I went to see a performance of Indian (Indian-India, not Indian-Native American) music one night. The last song was apparently something famous; I'd never heard it before, but much of the audience, who were largely Indian or Pakistani, did. On some cue I missed, the entire audience began clapping in time with the music, laughing and bopping their heads. I saw one old man in a business suit lean over and drum the rhythm on his knees. A little boy hopped out of his chair and started dancing, tugging on his mother's sari until she got up and danced too.
It was the funnest concert I've been to in a long time.
5. The little old man who owns the used bookstore, which is called "Shakespeare's", will accost you when you attempt to leave the store. It does not matter if you need to be somewhere in half an hour, he wants to know if you saw the back room? Did you see the front room? Did you see the aisle to the left, it's easy to miss, after all? Did you know there was a lower floor, too? It has sports over here, religion behind it, in the middle poetry, and over there-
You will hear that there is a folklore section. You will be late.
6. There was a major earthquake in India and Pakistan yesterday morning. The girl sharing my room at the hostel was from Delhi, and spent most of the evening calling friends and family. She got a hold of all of them but one; she was worried for that one, but there was nothing else to do right then.
When I got up this morning, she was curled up in bed with her cellphone, talking to someone in a language I didn't know well enough even to identify. She had the heavy cover pulled over her head to muffle the noise, but I could hear that whatever she was saying, she wasn't happy about it. She sounded ready to cry. Her voice rose briefly, and fell, and then she was silent for a long time while she listened to a small, staticy voice on the telephone.
I wanted to stay and ask her if everything was alright, or pat her if she needed to cry, or do anything but walk away without acknowledging her. I was running late to catch my bus; I'd miss the flight back home. I left.
7. Today was one of those crisp, cold days, when the sun looks a million times brighter than it feels, and everything seems clear and close. From the L, you could see the reflections of the clouds in the mirrored windows of the skyscrapers, between the faded graffiti and grey bricks of the closer buildings.
Sometimes, you know, I am a such a bitch. But this is why I never can make very good "What I Did On My Summer Vacation" posts; I can never convince myself that any of the stories are worth telling. Because I'm kind of in that mood right now, I instead present you with a list of moments.
1. Madison, being Wisconsin's capital (who knew?), has a huge state building right in the middle of the city. Since there are no skyscrapers, or anything at all over a few stories tall, the white dome of this building is visible from all around, especially at night, when it's light up and glows like an unshaded lightbulb, some small golden statue on the very top gleaming.
2. Food carts cluttered the streets of the campus, sort of like the guys who sell hotdogs or gyros, except much better. They were wooden and wheeled, just large enough to fit one person inside and a small stove. The outside was covered in hand-done paintings and the latest version of the menu. I saw a Mexican one, a Jamaican one, a Greek one, two Thai ones, and a Chinese one, and I only walked down one street.
3. The next day the same street was cluttered with a sort of farmer's market, except of course it's too late for most crops and most of the booths were selling jewelry or blankets or paintings. There were some vegetables, and I saw people walking around with bizarrely shaped gourds most of the day. Early in the morning, as I was walking to to the first session of the conference and wondering if that was really my breath I was seeing frosting in the air, a man had set up what sounded like a bongo drum and was singing a gospel hymn. I couldn't see him from where I was walking, but his voice carried between the buildings, echoing around the still-empty streets.
4. I went to see a performance of Indian (Indian-India, not Indian-Native American) music one night. The last song was apparently something famous; I'd never heard it before, but much of the audience, who were largely Indian or Pakistani, did. On some cue I missed, the entire audience began clapping in time with the music, laughing and bopping their heads. I saw one old man in a business suit lean over and drum the rhythm on his knees. A little boy hopped out of his chair and started dancing, tugging on his mother's sari until she got up and danced too.
It was the funnest concert I've been to in a long time.
5. The little old man who owns the used bookstore, which is called "Shakespeare's", will accost you when you attempt to leave the store. It does not matter if you need to be somewhere in half an hour, he wants to know if you saw the back room? Did you see the front room? Did you see the aisle to the left, it's easy to miss, after all? Did you know there was a lower floor, too? It has sports over here, religion behind it, in the middle poetry, and over there-
You will hear that there is a folklore section. You will be late.
6. There was a major earthquake in India and Pakistan yesterday morning. The girl sharing my room at the hostel was from Delhi, and spent most of the evening calling friends and family. She got a hold of all of them but one; she was worried for that one, but there was nothing else to do right then.
When I got up this morning, she was curled up in bed with her cellphone, talking to someone in a language I didn't know well enough even to identify. She had the heavy cover pulled over her head to muffle the noise, but I could hear that whatever she was saying, she wasn't happy about it. She sounded ready to cry. Her voice rose briefly, and fell, and then she was silent for a long time while she listened to a small, staticy voice on the telephone.
I wanted to stay and ask her if everything was alright, or pat her if she needed to cry, or do anything but walk away without acknowledging her. I was running late to catch my bus; I'd miss the flight back home. I left.
7. Today was one of those crisp, cold days, when the sun looks a million times brighter than it feels, and everything seems clear and close. From the L, you could see the reflections of the clouds in the mirrored windows of the skyscrapers, between the faded graffiti and grey bricks of the closer buildings.
