No Wide Highways, Just Little Asphalt Veins

graf

Streets don’t really end here, they just bend and branch, store after store, one eatery after another, never have I seen so many people outdoors, lounging, working, selling, buying, waiting, talking, eating and smoking. Endless, every wide street that’s filled with motorbikes has alleys that branch off into winding tiny walkways that provide shade from the beaten path. Backdoors to people’s houses, sometimes welcoming you to sit to eat and some just kept dark and quiet, small sanctuaries far from the heat and din.

The trees that fill this city make you forget the enormity of it all, the giant trunks and umbrella canopies sprawl up on every block, giving everyone a place to nap on their motorcycles or benches. Slowing down the town, the elderly sit and fan themselves, watching passers-by and chatting, sometimes eating or sleeping. That’s all there is, eating, talking, sleeping. I wonder when people work. No, I take that back. I do see a lot of people working, it’s a tough country but some of the nicest land to strive in.

Lotsa honking. A ton of honking. Traffic is like an animal with constant tendrils that weave smoothly in and out streets and alleys. Sometimes a swarming onslaught of motors and exhaust and sometimes a straight thin rope of faces behind masks and beneath helmets. It’s more life going on in one exact spot than I’ve ever seen.

Crimeny, sometimes I miss the Northwest US, the laid-back hillbilly/progressive metropolis, the backwoods racist/liberal earthies, god, I miss them all. Just thought I’d throw that in there.
I also now know why people have BMW’s. They just make you smile.

bmw1

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