28 July 2010
Arrived late last night. There is no public transport from the airport to downtown Halifax. $19.50 on the Airporter got me to the Atlantica Hotel, a short walk to my Couchsurfing host.
While others caught some Z’s on the shuttle, I stared bug-eyed out the window at the darkness. A big moon provided some light. I could see silhouettes of trees across a narrow body of water. House lights broke through every once in a while. The solitude of the houses drew me in. I knew I was in the right place.
People say hi here. On the walk downtown this morning I passed by a guy running on a treadmill on the sidewalk. He was raising money for cancer. We said good morning to each other. Later on the walk I passed a man and his son, maybe 8 years old. The boy said hi to me. I smiled and said hello back.
Things must be changing. On that same walk, while passing a tennis court a man asked me to fetch their tennis ball that had flown over the fence and bounced across the road. On the other side, after picking up the ball, the traffic came and I slowly stepped onto the road, timing my cross with the passing cars. “Careful,” he said. “They don’t stop like they used to.”
Overheard at the harbourfront. A large woman in a floral print dress to her man: “I don’t care what Mayor Kelly says, I’m not getting in that water.”
Traveling solo makes you bolder. Unless you don’t want human contact, it’s necessary to reach out sometimes. I serenaded a young lady at The Source electronic shop. We were standing in front of some televisions watching a live Fleetwood Mac performance (they were playing Tusk at the time) and she didn’t know who they were — as I overheard her speaking to a co-worker. “Don’t Stop Thinking About Tomorrow, ” I said to her. “How does it go?” she asked.
The worst Subway sandwich artist lives here.