Ciao, Tiziano, e Grazie! (A Tribute and Reflection)

Yesterday, I got some really sad news. But for most readers to understand why I'm sad, I have to explain some other things first. That requires going back in time fourteen years.

In the fall of 1999, I started my sophomore year at Saint Mary's College, Notre Dame, Indiana. Except I didn't spend that year in Indiana. I fulfilled a lifelong fantasy of going to live in Italy for awhile. I had partly chosen Saint Mary's because of its outstanding study abroad programs, and the Rome program in particular. Rome was nothing like I'd expected, but it gave me everything I hoped it would and so much more. Not a day goes by that I don't still think about it, if even briefly. I've written lots of stuff about Rome, much of it experimental, which I've never shared with anyone, and my time there informs so much of how I am and the choices I've made that I can't even begin to encapsulate it in one little post. But I do want to speak to a particular part of it.

The young women on the Rome program stayed in the four-star Hotel Tiziano in the Largo Argentina neighborhood of Rome. (The men, from the University of Notre Dame, stayed at the Hotel Arenula around the corner. No co-ed dorms for us, even in the eternal city!) The Tiziano was a very comfortable place. My friend Gina and I shared Room 309, the smallest of the rooms allotted to SMC students. We had bunk beds (I was on top due to a slightly irrational fear of sleeping underneath the top bunk and having it cave in on me in the middle of the night). We also had a bathroom with a bidet that we didn't quite know what to do with, so we used it for doing laundry by hand (yes, I know how gross that sounds. In our defense, the bathrooms had recently been remodeled and I like to think no one had yet used the bidet for its intended purpose, but I really couldn't say for sure). We also had maid service once a week. Our room had a lovely brick-colored carpet and warm golden-yellow walls. My desk was in a little nook near the doorway, and I would place miniature monuments I'd collect on my travels on top of it. I was certainly the less-organized of the two of us, and Gina always graciously put up with my clutter.

All of the SMC ladies were on the third and fourth floors of the Tiziano, and so we lived in pretty close quarters. There were forty-two of us, plus two Notre Dame men, the first semester, and a few more in the spring. We became quite close, living in such close quarters so far away from our homes, families, and other friends. Rome defined our lives, and we had it in common. We lived, traveled, studied, ate, and prayed together. Most of us took full advantage of being in Europe, and in Rome in particular, and didn't do a great deal of sitting around at home. But the Tiziano was home, and every day we'd gather in the dining room at the appointed time for lunch or dinner, joined by the program staff and faculty, as well as the deacons from the North American College who ran our campus ministry. I'll never forget those meals - a chance to gather and regroup after a long day of studying, site-seeing, or just exploring. I'll never forget having the Saint Joan of Arc medal I bought in Paris blessed by Deacon Paul at dinner. It was for me a very special moment. I'd never asked to have anything blessed before, and somehow it felt right that it should be there in the dining room with my friends, rather than in the busy hustle of Saint Peter's Square for the papal blessing.

The staff at the Tiziano were always kind, funny, and adamant about speaking to us in Italian in spite of their fluency in English. They helped to make the Tiziano a welcoming and safe place, and helped us to better acclimate to life in Rome.

 The lobby of the Tiziano

 When I would travel to various places, which I did quite often, I was always glad to come home to familiar faces and my little room on the third floor. Over the Christmas holidays, I spent a month traveling with a friend, and on the last day, in London, I decided to join my friend in flying back a day early. I phoned the Tiziano from Heathrow, and they kindly agreed to give me access to my room, though we weren't supposed to have returned yet. It was such a comfort to know I'd be returning there. I hadn't gone home to the U.S. for Christmas, because I couldn't afford it. I'd had a good Christmas with my friend and her family in Florence, and had traveled around Italy and visited the U.K. But when I returned to the Tiziano that night, I felt safe and at ease in a way I hadn't realized I'd been missing since I'd left for the break.

There are so many little memories I have of the Tiziano. Hosting a wine and cheese party in our tiny room with Gina; talking late into the night in friends' rooms; sitting with my classmates eating gelato in the hallway the night before we left Rome for good in the spring; dragging myself up the stairs for six weeks when I'd given up the elevator as a lenten sacrifice; calling home on the payphone in the lobby using a phone card I'd bought at Pascucci (across the street, where we'd take the meals we didn't take at the Tiziano). And that's just inside. Outside, we could walk to the Pantheon in less than five minutes, and I know it's still the favorite monument of lots of us who went to Rome. We could also walk to the Forum, Colosseum, and Vatican, but closer by were Piazza Navona, Campo de Fiori, and numerous churches, statues, and fountains. There were also the four temples dating from the Roman Republic, which would have been, interestingly, the last temples Julius Caesar ever saw as he walked to his death in Pompey's Theater, a stone's throw from where we were located. Today, there is a cat shelter there. There were also of course our classrooms, library, admin offices, and the little church of Saints Benedict and Scholastica where we attended Mass. We had an entire little world in the heart of Rome.

 

On my last night in Rome, I didn't really sleep. I lay on my bed, still wearing the dress I'd worn to our farewell banquet, and just waited. I was happy to be going home, but I spent my last hours in Rome in room 309 reflecting on my year there. 

In February 2004, I got to go back to Rome for a brief visit. I didn't stay at the Tiziano, but I did go and see it, and when I went into the dining room, it felt exactly the same. I'm generally a skeptic when it comes to things like psychic energy or anything of the kind, but that moment convinced me that places do hold on to memories and have an energy of their own, left behind perhaps from the people who lived and felt things there. I certainly sensed something good from that room when I returned, perhaps the build up of four decades of SMC students bringing all their joys and discoveries to share there.  The experience left me both a little shaken and a little reassured, somehow.


Last August, I returned to Rome again for the final stage of three weeks of travel in Europe. I booked a room at the Tiziano for the last two nights. I hadn't been back to stay there since I left in April of 2000, and I wasn't sure how it would be, or how I would feel. It was good. Some of the staff was the same, and they were happy to talk to me about my time in Rome, and even refused to give me a map at first, because I was expected to know my way around! Fortunately, I did remember my way around for the most part. They were more forgiving of my language lapses than they'd been the first time around! And I got to have a TV in my room this time. Otherwise, the Tiziano was exactly the same. I stayed on the fourth floor this time, in 408, almost exactly above my old room, overlooking the courtyard. The layout of the room was slightly different, but in essentials everything was the same. The marble staircase, the elevator, the dining room (now filled with tourists from everywhere), the carpets and wallpaper, down to the keys that only kind of worked in the locks. My TV broke, and there were jokes about how now it could be just like when I was a student! I felt at home. I had a college friend with me, but we had our own rooms, and she left a day before I did. So I spent my last morning walking around Largo Argentina, and came back to collect my suitcase at the Tiziano before hopping on the 64 Bus to Termini Station, where I'd catch the train to Fiumcino Airport. I said goodbye to Rome and to the Tiziano, sad to leave but sure that I'd be back, if not too soon then not too far in the future, either.

Well, I'm sure I will go back to Rome. I've said goodbye to Rome three times now, once in 2000, once in 2004, and once in 2012. I tell myself that Rome will be out of my system after this and that I can leave it and explore other places (and I go lots of other places, as often as I can), but almost as soon as I'm back home I think I ought to have stayed longer or that I ought to have done this or that, or that I'd just like to sit in the Piazza della Rotonda and look at the Pantheon in the moonlight again. No matter how much I change and grow, my time in Rome will always matter to me. So I know I'll go back to Rome. But I won't be going back to the Tiziano.

Every year since I returned from Rome, my parents have received a Christmas card in the mail from the Tiziano. Two, in fact. This past Christmas, they didn't get a card. Perhaps that was the first sign. Yesterday, I learned from a former classmate and fellow SMC Rome alum that the Tiziano, originally an eighteenth-century palazzo and even once the home of a future pope, and most importantly for so many of us, the home of the Saint Mary's Rome Program since its inception in 1970, had been sold, and would be gutted and remodeled (you can read about it in the ND/SMC Observer here).  Needless to say, "gutted" is more or less how I felt at hearing the news. So I had to write this piece, because I had to at least try to convey what the Tiziano, in its present incarnation, meant to me and to so many of us over the years. I know my classmates and friends will all have their individual stories and memories, too. So, I am sad.

But of course this is not the end. The Saint Mary's Rome Program will continue to flourish under the extremely capable and brilliant direction of Dr. Portia Prebys, the program director, whom I had the pleasure of running into in Pascucci last August. According to the article in The Observer that broke the news, the hotel that future students will call home will also be in Largo Argentina, and will even have in-house laundry. No more bidet-washing and bungee-cord drying, alas. And the new place will, I'm certain, be special for the new students. But I can't help but feel a little sad for them that they're going to miss the uniqueness of the Tiziano as we knew it. And it sounds as though the Tiziano will continue on, too, under new ownership, but it will look different, and it won't be the same, and I can't help wondering if it will lose something intangibly good in the process. But the building has had a long life, and I suppose it is simply moving on, as we all must. I'm glad I got to be there when I did.

I have lots of stories about my time in Rome - most of them aren't sad. I may post them from time to time.

Some photos of the Tiziano and Largo Argentina:

 

The area sacra at Largo Argentina, containing the ruins of four Republican era temples 

 

One of the temples up close 

 

Pascucci, another place I could write lots about. We took many of our meals here. 

 

Another of the area sacra 

The entrance to the Tiziano

Feltrinelli, bookstore located across the street from the Tiziano. Used to have a big selection of English books, though I didn't notice many when I was there recently. It is still a lot of fun, though.

The ceiling of Santa Maria Sopra Minerva

 Largo Argentina by night

Here are some scans from 1999-2000:

 Thankfully, this McDonald's facing the Pantheon no longer exists.

 

Tram 8 took us across the Tiber to Trastevere

I'm back!

Well, I'm back and blogging again! I know it has been almost a year since my last entry, which is unforgivable. And it's not as though I haven't seen some weird stuff on the subway since then. But I've decided that I no longer want to restrict myself to writing about one thing. Sometimes I want to write about lots of different things, largely having to do with life here in NYC, where the bizarreness goes well beyond the MTA most of the time. Sometimes I want to write about books or films or places I've traveled. So while I'm leaving up the old entries, I'm going to be branching out on the blog, and hopefully writing more! We'll see what it turns into.

So, what have I been up to, and what has prompted a return to blogging? Here is a short summary of the year I've had -

 I have traveled to Hilton Head; Las Vegas; Paris; Marseille; Geneva; Neuchatel; Lucerne; Rome; and Chicago. I also climbed to the top of my first real, official mountain! I have started the job market for my field, which is excruciating, stressful, and time consuming. I have been teaching a few classes and writing my dissertation (I won't ever be blogging about my professional life, in the interest of not ruining my career before it's fully launched). I also got a new roommate and redecorated my apartment, got a slow-cooker after getting food poisoning from a Chinese restaurant, and I've become a pretty decent cook! I've also ridden a lot of trains, buses, and even a helicopter. I may blog about some of these experiences sometime. But with all that's happening, something had to give (more than one thing, really) and the blog was just a casualty of a very busy and stressful year.

 I'm no less busy or stressed now than I've been for most of the year - in some ways I'm more so. But, sometimes I do need to write stuff to keep my sanity, and occasionally I want to share it, and I don't think Facebook or Livejournal are always the most ideal platforms for doing so.  I also have a specific thing that I want to write, which I'll be posting very soon - but I didn't want to just do that without explaining the changes to the blog for anyone who might come here and see the old content and be really confused.

I'm keeping the title, though - "Signal Failures" can apply to so very many situations! 

Sesame Street on the Subway, Seventies Style

I love vintage Sesame Street. And I especially love this video, which is recognizably the New York City subway system, except it's the 1970s and there are dancing muppets. I will admit to having no first hand knowledge of the 1970s subway here in NYC - I wasn't born yet - but my understanding is that the city was a bit scarier and darker than it is today. And that darkness is reflected just a bit in this video ...

The muppets do things muppets are supposed to do - they sing and dance and smile - but there is also a tension in the air here that one doesn't really expect of Sesame Street. Elmo would be out of place here. Instead, we have the random beatnik muppet, and the old lady who breathlessly insists that "you could lose your purse or you might lose something worse on the subway." There is the suggestion that it's hot, and claustrophobic, and the dancing is more a reflection of the chaos contained within those subway cars than a true celebration. And poor Kermit, who should have taken the local instead of the express! How many of us have done that at one time or another? The character I really sympathize with here, though, is Bert. Poor Bert doesn't want to take part in the dancing. He just wants to avoid getting hit. He doesn't like all these random people touching him, and he's doing his best to avoid it. Bert represents order and sanity in the midst of the madness and chaos. At the end of the video, it's not clear if he's bewildered or relieved or both. I sympathize here because when the break dancers start up on the D train, I'm usually wondering if there is some place I can duck and hide to avoid getting kicked. There are other Sesame Street takes on the subway, but I think this one is the most interesting and surreal. And I do get a kick out of it in spite of picking up some dark undertones. If I have to be subject to subway entertainment of the singing and dancing variety, I'd prefer it to come from Kermit and friends than from anyone else!

*FYI - I had meant to do a post about subway preachers a few days ago, following a particularly annoying experience - but then my internet broke, and the moment seemed to have passed. I'm sure it will come again, though. In the meantime, Bert, Kermit, and friends are a good substitute!

Long Distance Signal Failures: The Quirks of Public Transportation in this Great Nation of Ours

Anyone who has been reading this blog might wonder at its recent silence. Well, that is because this is a blog about New York City's public transportation, and the many attendant insanities, and I have been out of NYC. I've been traveling westward, to my hometown of Pittsburgh, and even further west, to my ten year college reunion in South Bend, Indiana. But as it turns out, trains, buses, taxis, and planes are crazy everywhere, and I come with a report of some of the highlights, comparisons, and other oddities of my trip.

Memorial Day Megabus

My first adventure was on the Megabus, heading from NYC to Pittsburgh on May 28. Now, for those who may not know (you innocent souls!), the Megabus actually started in the UK in 2003, and has rapidly expanded westward, landing in the USA in 2006. They advertise fares for as low as one dollar (though I've never gotten one), complimentary wifi, power outlets at every pair of seats, and clean, safe, express, double-decker busses. In theory, the Megabus is an amazing deal, and it actually is a better experience than Greyhound. The bus from New York to Pittsburgh has only one stop in between - at State College, PA, home of Penn State University. When I first started taking the Megabus about two years ago, most of the clientele consisted of students. It has since gotten more publicity, I guess, because now those sketchy people who used to take Greyhound have found out about it, and apparently a lot of them have a pressing need to go to Pittsburgh on weekdays in June. Well, normally I try to take the earliest bus of the day - it's less likely to hit traffic and is occasionally less crowded. It leaves around 6:30 AM. However, I was in a fantastic wedding the night before I was leaving this time, and when I booked I knew I wouldn't be up for standing around waiting for a bus at 6 AM. So I booked the 12:50 bus. On Memorial Day. It's important to know at this point that Megabus has no specific bus station - the e-mail confirmation has instructions to go to 41st and 10th, and basically get in line. So that's what I did. There are multiple lines for the various destinations, and though I was over an hour early, the Pittsburgh line was still substantial. And I had forgotten to wear sunscreen. So by the time I boarded, I had sunburn, and my phone was almost dead (I love you, iPhone, but your battery life is tragically short). I was lucky to get a nice seat mate, though, a massage therapist named Melinda, who was returning home to Pittsburgh. That's the thing with public transportation - sometimes it's possible to meet really nice people, and that can make for a much more pleasant experience. We chatted a bit, but she was chill enough to stop chatting when I wanted to try to read or sleep. Reading is tough for me on buses because I get motion sickness, but it's not as bad with my Kindle, so I was willing to try. I had really counted on using my phone to chat and play games, though, which did not happen - sadly, the power outlets were all dead, and the driver wasn't able to fix them (to be honest, I'm not convinced he tried - he was extremely apathetic and didn't even list the safety rules the drivers normally list). Also, the Megabus on this route always stops at the same rest stop in eastern Pennsylvania - it's a pretty sad little place, but it's clean, and has a Subway sandwich shop in it, so at least it's possible to get something healthy (there is also a convenience store that sells non-descript, very sketchy looking hotdogs and sausages). So the bus got in rather late, and my phone had less than 10% battery life remaining, but I'd survived another trip on the Megabus, and I was back in Pittsburgh, which is a pretty good place to be (honestly!). 

The Megabus at a rest stop in Pennsylvania

The Midnight Train 

After two days respite in the 'burgh, it was time to leave for South Bend, Indiana, home of Saint Mary's College, the greatest school in the world, and another school that a few people know for its football team. Well, there is no Megabus to South Bend. And there is no good way to fly there. I could probably fly to Europe for what I'd pay to fly into the South Bend Airport. Flying into Chicago and then taking the train or bus there is also an option, but it was not a cheap one, either. Renting a car might have been an option, but there is a reason I am so experienced at taking public transportation - I haven't driven in about a decade (I probably shouldn't have a driver's license, but I do - I plan to take lessons again fairly soon). So - Amtrak it was. The train from Pittsburgh to South Bend is actually the train from D.C. to Chicago, and it stops in Pittsburgh in time for an 11:59 departure. I've taken Amtrak plenty during the day, but only once or twice before at night, and that was a long time ago. There weren't tons of people going on that train, but there were a few. Since the train didn't seem like it would be crowded, I had high hopes of not getting a seat partner. Those hopes, my friends, were quickly dashed. 'Twas a fleeting dream, but a sweet one. As soon as I boarded the train, the conductor told me where to sit, which is a new experience for me on Amtrak. I guess I see why - people would be getting off and on throughout the night, and this probably avoided some confusion - but it threw me a little. Especially as she told a guy who was traveling alone to take the next seat. Since it's a night train, the seats recline a lot, so I basically would have to spend the night lying next to this strange guy. I didn't feel entirely comfortable with it, though it helped that he was not excited about it, either. And it ended up being fine - I texted on my phone and read my book and he played with his laptop, and we ignored each other. I managed to get a little sleep, though it wasn't restful - the train would stop and start, slow down and speed up, and trains out west often have to yield to passing freight trains. In the morning, though, I felt surprisingly good - perhaps it was the excitement of my impending reunion. It was surprisingly nice to wake up and see a rainy Indiana from the train window. 

Indiana from the train window, around 7 AM last Thursday

When I got off the train in South Bend, I'm not sure what I expected. In New York, and even in Pittsburgh, there are cabs hanging out at the stations to make the most of the opportunities for fares those places present. I guess I can see why there aren't any in South Bend - I suspect it's not a high traffic station at 7 AM most weekdays, and most people probably have rides waiting for them. On this day, there was a decent little crowd because of the reunions at Saint Mary's and that other school. Of this group of people, I was the only one with numbers for local cab companies, since a friend had been kind enough to text them to me the day before. I called and arranged for my cab, and was told it would be there in fifteen minutes. I then shared my phone numbers with the rest of the passengers, and went to use the rest room. When I came out five minutes later, two other people had phoned my cab company, and were told to just share the cab with me, even though we were going to different places! They were perfectly nice, but it was a little surprising! The cab driver was very friendly, too, and extremely accommodating. I usually don't discuss cabs on this blog, but my experience with NYC cabs has been a real mix, from the friendly to the eccentric to the downright vile. This guy just seemed normal, which was cool, and he drove me exactly where I asked to go without making a fuss or pretending he didn't know where it was (people who live in Queens know what I'm talking about) which I greatly appreciated. 

Sleepy on the South Shore to Chicago 

After an absolutely fantastic college reunion, my friend and I headed to Chicago via the South Shore Line. I had a flight back to Pittsburgh to catch at Midway airport that evening, but we would take the train and have a few hours to kill in Chicago (my friend lives there). The South Shore is a commuter train with South Bend and Chicago on either end of it. New Yorkers, think of New Jersey Transit or Metro North trains. They have pretty much the same layout inside, and serve a similar purpose. Except that the South Shore is Very Brown - it's like something from the 1970s in terms of interiors. And Very Slow. My friend started saying that she was not going to be able to stay awake as soon as we sat down. I began to make some kind of retort about her not thinking me very good company, but she anticipated me, and said no - that it had nothing to do with the company - that it was simply impossible to stay awake on the South Shore. And she was right! I don't know if it was the slowness or all the brown decor, but I just could not keep my eyes open. Finally I gave in to it and dozed. Until a thud against my back woke me up. The thud was repeated. I turned around, expecting to see a small child kicking the back of my seat. It happens, and a lot of times kids just don't know better until they're told not to do it. I didn't see a child, though - instead, I saw a grown man with his wife sitting next to him. I asked him, politely, to stop kicking my seat. I got a blank stare in return. I asked again, and he nodded. I said thank you and turned back around. Five minutes later I felt it again. My friend had woken up by this time, so we moved to the seats in front of us to get away from the kicking. I told him I was moving because he wouldn't stop kicking me. He shrugged. I was reminded that there are a lot of rude people outside of New York, too, but fortunately the kicking stopped once I moved. 

On the South Shore Train

Babysitting on Southwest 

My flight from Chicago to Pittsburgh actually went absurdly well. Since it was summer and late in the evening, I expected delays, but they were minor. On Southwest, there are no assigned seats - you board in the order you checked in, basically. There is an A group, a B group, and a C group, and there are numbers assigned within each group. A1 is the first to board, while C42 is a much less desirable boarding position. Once you're on the plane, you can choose any seat you want. I paid ten dollars extra for some sort of preferred boarding thing, which meant the airline checked me in automatically and I got a good boarding number - A32. I actually am really picky about where I sit on planes. When I was 19 and flying around Europe for the first time, I always sought a window seat. Flying was exciting and I wanted to see everything there was to see. Now, I just want to be off the damned plane as soon as possible, so I seek an aisle seat as close to the front as I can get. This time, thanks to my nice low boarding number, I got to sit in an aisle seat three rows back. The window seat was occupied by a 12 year old girl I'll call C. C was *very* chatty. She was flying by herself for the first time, and had been on the plane since Salt Lake City. Her grandparents were to meet her in Pittsburgh, but she'd basically been on her own since she'd boarded (though I guess a flight attendant looks out for kids traveling alone? I hope so). She was a little scared to fly at night, and said she was tired, but too nervous to sleep through take off. I told her as confidently as possible that everything would be just fine. She asked me tons and tons of questions, though - and before I knew it I felt responsible for this kid - mainly because no one else seemed to be. She asked me about the book I was reading, about where I was going, and what I did. When I told her my job, she looked skeptical and asked how old I was. When C told me I looked much too young to be 32, I decided this kid was OK. But really, she was a pretty great kid. She expressed concern that someone would come and sit in the middle seat, and she didn't want to sit next to a stranger (I very much understood that). She seemed to think I was all right, though, so I told her that if anyone did come, that I would take the middle seat. She seemed to find this more agreeable. No one came, though, so that was good. She told me lots about herself and her family, and seemed very excited to get away from her siblings for the summer and spend time with her grandma. She did go to sleep eventually, and when it came time to land, I figured I would make sure she got to baggage claim all right and was able to meet her grandmother. That wasn't necessary, though- amazingly, the grandparents were waiting at the gate - security must make exceptions for children traveling alone, and she looked very happy to see them. And I was very happy to be home myself. I would get to spend a few days in Pittsburgh before reboarding the Megabus and returning to NYC.

The Pittsburgh "T": A Model of Inefficiency 

Pittsburgh, my beloved home town, is not a city well known for its amazing public transportation. I can remember taking the bus downtown with my mom when I was little - it was pretty neat, I thought then. In the intervening years, the city has cut services and raised prices on buses. But it wasn't the buses I had to deal with this trip. My mom and I also used to go to the Three Rivers Arts Festival occasionally when I was younger, and since I happened to be home during the festival, we decided to check it out again. We drove downtown, but alas - there was no parking to be had. So we drove back across the river, and parked there. Mom suggested that we take the subway, also known as the "T." I've been on the subway in Pittsburgh exactly twice before - once on a trip with the Girl Scouts when I was much younger, and one other time with my mom. There is exactly one subway line in Pittsburgh. So you'd think it would be super easy to figure out, right? Wrong. It was possibly the most confusing and stressful experience I had all week! And I am a pro at the NYC subway, and I've ridden multi-line subways in many other cities with no problems whatsoever. First, buying a ticket was an ordeal. The train is still above ground where we were buying the ticket (at Station Square for anyone familiar with the 'burgh). The woman in the booth was not forthcoming with any information or help, and we watched a train go by while we were trying to figure it out. There is no way to pay with a credit card, and it is required to pay with exact change. What??!?! I could see if we were in Cleveland or something (not that I've been there, but it's one of our rival cities), but this is Pittsburgh! It's a modern place! Finally, we had our tickets, though, and a few minutes later the train came. Now let me just show you in pictures what I experienced ....

There is no little map above the seats - or anywhere else - to tell passengers where they are or where to get off. 

One must request a stop! Also, there is a ticket machine there, but no one used it, so we ignored it, too. 

I've seen the carpeted seats elsewhere, such as in DC. I'm not sure how I feel about them. 

The Gateway Center station is actually kind of pretty. 

Looking up at the ceiling from inside the Gateway Center station. 

Once we were finished looking at art, Mom and I were going to walk across the Smithfield Street Bridge back to the car, but she had bought a bowl, and it was kind of heavy, and also it was really hot - so we decided to take the train back, thinking we knew what we were doing this time, and we even got the exact change out ahead of time. But we were wrong, of course. There is absolutely nowhere to purchase a ticket in the station downtown. After wandering aimlessly searching for a ticket machine or booth for a bit, I finally asked someone, and was told that we would need to buy it once we got off the train at Station Square. So it turns out, we were supposed to purchase a transfer on our way in if we wanted to come back. The woman at the booth never told us. Luckily, her colleague just sold us the transfer then and there, but it's not like this was written down anywhere! 

And a bit of humor that only Pittsburghers might get ...

This statue, by an artist named J. Seward Johnson, Jr., is called "Taxi!" It's supposed to be a man hailing a cab in downtown Pittsburgh - a thing that is actually not possible to do. I'm told the city is going to start experimenting with having cabs that can be hailed on the street, but right now - it's just not done. You can call a cab, or go to a cab stand at a hotel or something I guess, but if you try to get one on the street, you'll be ignored. Trust me - I know from experience. Also - I hit my head on this statue after bending down to look at the artist's plaque, so I've nicknamed him "Public Enemy #1." 

Megabus: The Return 

Yes, this title sounds like a bad sequel. And that's precisely what this Megabus trip felt like. The stakes are always higher in a sequel, of course, and the threat always more exaggerated. This time, there were new and disturbing challenges, but if you've been reading this long, you might be up for hearing about them. One of the nice things about the Megabus stop in Pittsburgh is that it's in the tunnel for the Convention Center, which offers some protection from the elements. However, today, the New York people were told to get in line outside the tunnel, around a corner and along the building. Just across from us was a row of trash bins, and they wreaked in the summer heat. It was not pleasant. And then ... the bus was fine, actually - it was just really, really crowded. Almost worse than Memorial Day. And my power outlet didn't work again (though other ones did, so I was able to borrow one for a bit to recharge my phone). But by this time, maybe I was just cranky about being on yet another form of public transportation, and feeling kind of motion sick. So all in all - a rather disappointing sequel, but it could have been worse. 

Epilogue: Back on the MTA

When I finally got off the bus at 28th and 7th, there seemed to be a lot of traffic. The first cab I met refused to take me to Queens (Yes, I know this is illegal but I was too tired to fight with him). I decided I'd just take the good old MTA - and a lot about this trip made me appreciate our strange, chaotic, yet remarkably well organized subway system. I walked to the NR line on 28th Street, and an R train came almost immediately. I got on and found a seat, opened my Kindle, and before I knew it I was home. 

Is this a cult?

(see photo). I have been seeing signs advertising the School of Practical Philosophy since I first moved to NYC in 2003. They are always either in subway stations or in the trains themselves. I suppose it is a good way to reach a wide, disparate audience quite likely disillusioned and searching for meaning, and perhaps wondering how it came to be crammed next to a a particularly malodorous person at that particular point in time, or wondering what mistakes in life destined it to be sitting next to a drunk, vomiting teenager (this has happened to me). Still, as much as I question my life choices when suffocating in the N train at rush hour or waiting 45 minutes for a D train at 2 AM, I have never been tempted to phone up the School of Practical Philosophy. A glance at the website, www.philosophyworks.org, doesn't really reveal much more than their advertisement, though it has the same vaguely creepy graphics with sun shining through clouds in a blue sky. They seem to offer courses in philosophy and economics for a fee, of course. But the whole thing feels cultish to me somehow. I am, however, happy to be proven wrong if any former or current students of the school want to speak up for it. I am also happy to be proven right if anyone wants to confirm that it is in fact a cult out to recruit vulnerable subway patrons.

Signal Failures Abroad: The London Underground

I'm not writing this from London - I was last there for about three days almost two years ago, and looking through some old photos today, I found that I have tons of pictures from the London Underground. So, I thought it might be fun to share some of them here, and think about some of the pros and cons of each city's system. I welcome comments, corrections, etc.

I was very impressed by the subway system in London. I have to say - for anyone coming from NYC, it's very easy to figure out a lot of systems in other cities, and the famous London tube system was no exception. It seems that it almost goes out of its way to create a pleasant and easy experience. I loved especially those electronic signs that tell you when the next train is coming. The NYC MTA is very slowly getting around to implementing them, but it's taking years. We have them on the 4/5/6 line, though they're often not working, and now they're on the 1/2/3 as well, and the L (if I'm missing one let me know). I love those signs, because often they can let me know whether or not I should start reading my book, look for a bench on the platform, or just give up and take a cab. I also very rarely had trouble finding a seat on the London trains. I'm not saying this even should always happen, but invariably some nice man would get up and offer me his seat. That doesn't happen here. In fact, I've actually had men push me out of the way for a seat on the train. We're a city filled with George Costanzas here in NYC. I've also never had to struggle with a heavy suitcase up or down the stairs in a tube station. Someone *always* offers to help. People will occasionally help here, too, but it's not something to be counted on. In fact, I offered to help a woman struggling with a suitcase yesterday, and the thing was so heavy I almost instantly regretted it. I can't always blame people for not helping. It sure is nice when they do, though.

There are things I think NYC does better - such as air conditioning in the train during the summer. It wasn't overly hot in London in mid-July, and I doubt they get as many scorchingly hot days as we do here, but stepping onto the train upon leaving Heathrow, I was a little taken aback by the warm air that hit me. And when the train gets crowded in the summer, that A/C is quite a blessing. Another thing I noticed in London in general, but also in some of the tube stations (I say some because I wasn't in that many of them, and can't say whether this is universal) - the absence of trash cans, or "bins." The stations seemed perfectly clean, but it left me wondering what people do with their trash! I remember holding the same paper bag that I wanted to toss on two different trains on my way to the airport, and then finally asking the woman behind the desk at Virgin Atlantic's check in counter to throw it out for me, because I simply could not find anywhere to do it myself. Not that NYC's stations are any cleaner for having trash cans. There are still rats running around, especially late at night, and there is still tons of litter on the tracks. It's pretty gross. I heard recently that there was a proposal to do away with trash cans in subway stations here, and I don't think it's a good idea. I'm not sure how the London stations stay clean, but I'm pretty sure here people would just start using the tracks as a garbage can even more frequently than they already do.

I loved the aesthetic of the London system, though. I like ours, too, in a lot of the stations, but I loved the clean lines, the iconic signage, the way people move to the right on escalators so those of us who want to walk can pass them .... (OK that's got nothing to do with aesthetics, but it's something people are supposed to do here and don't, and it drives me crazy). So here are some of my favorite photos of the London Underground:

 King's Cross/St. Pancras - A station I was at quite a bit given that I was doing some work at the British Library...

 A very steep escalator. It reminded me of the Lexington Ave station here with the really steep escalator. Notice how that person is standing to the right, though. So I could pass her if I wanted to. Take note, NYC.
 

 I *think* this one was outside the Hyde Park station. Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong.

 This is here just because it's Hampstead, which is where I would live if money/job/etc were no object. My Keats obsession might have something to do with this.

 Maybe my favorite station that I came across, because of the nifty pictures on the wall (that's right, I use the word "nifty") showing the history of Charing Cross. I'm sure these are here for tourists, just like the animal mosaics in the 81st Street station near the NYC Museum of Natural History are there for tourists. I loved them, though!

 I loved the curved ceiling in the tunnel here ...

 Another very steep escalator pic...I think it's the same escalator as before, actually.

 More Charing Cross, because they're just so much fun! Is that a raven in the one on the right? And look at those guys with clubs on the left. What are they doing?

                                         Camden Town Station, near where I stayed.

Finally - I will be traveling in Europe in August - France, Switzerland, and Italy. I look forward to doing another edition of Signal Failures Abroad at that point!

Pink Floyd on the D Train

Musical entertainments of all sorts are very common on the subway, as well as on the platform as anyone who regularly rides the rails in NYC knows. My personal favorite is the Mariachi band, about which I will post more extensively another time. The break dancers make me nervous. I'm always scared both for them (that one of them will crack his skull at some point) and for me (that I'll get kicked in the head). The break dancers, however, are pretty common on the D train, which I ride pretty often through the South Bronx to and from work. The Mariachi band occasionally frequents the D train, too, but I last saw them on the N. However, a few weeks ago, a friend and I were riding the D train together, and this guy gets on with his guitar. Imagine our surprise when he starts singing one of my favorite Pink Floyd songs. Naturally, since I started doing this blog, I decided to start filming.* Apologies in advance for the generally poor quality of this video - it was taken with my iPhone on a moving train:

I regret that the sound isn't better - he actually sounded sort of nice (unlike a lot of subway singers), but my phone seems to have picked up a lot of miscellaneous train noises. What I mostly love about this performance, though, is that he just doesn't care that this isn't really an audience for that song. He's just singing his song and not worrying about it, though he's determined to finish, even when the train is bumpy and when people are getting on and off. I can't blame him - Wish You Were Here is such a great song. Hearing it on the D Train was a completely unexpected, somewhat surreal moment. But that's one of the kind of wonderful things about the train, and indeed about NYC in general; you never know when someone is going to start singing a Pink Floyd song in the South Bronx, or some other completely random and amazing thing. In this case, the unexpected made for a pretty fun ride.

*Since most of these performers ask for a donation afterwards, if I film I always make sure to give them something. If I'm getting something out of it, it's only fair.