15 November 2011


On my way to Wall Street, New York, coming from New Brunswick, New Jersey, I get lost in Penn(sylvania) Station. Although it is day time, I have seen little daylight since hitting the tunnel under the Hudson River. Now I roam searchingly the mole's labyrinth of Penn Station, New York, New York.

Finally I end up on a subway pier, unclear if I the coming train would bring me to lower Manhattan or the middle of the earth. At the quay, the first two persons neglect my inquiries, engrossed in mobile phone and/or music via earpieces. Inquiring from the third person hits humanity, resulting in a person fishing a (guide?) book from his pack. It is in Japanese katakana I think. The text apparently confirms this is going to be the right way.

“Where do you come from”, I ask the rhetorical question. “Anchorage, arrived at 02.00 hours at JFK today. Now on my way to the Statute of Liberty, and then maybe to Ground Zero, and tomorrow fly to ...”. I lost the name in the noise of the approaching train, but am sure it is a location in a far away land.

“I live in Tokyo” is now added. The book and New York map thus must be in Japanese, indeed. “That is good, I am from Zambia, on my way to meet a friend living in the tents of Occupy Wall Street I think”. “Zambia? I will be in Uganda in three weeks I think”.

Where has this world turned into? Who is from where I am now, or where I am going, are we all travelers? Undoubtedly we (all?) are..

Assimilatedly - and seemingly like what people do - tomorrow I will be in Denver. The next day in San Francisco, and then Macha.