The Commute

Each day I drive with my wife two miles from our flat up to the University.  Although I am rarely very conscious in the mornings, I sometimes notice things which strike me as particularly beautiful or poignant.  For instance, a number of years ago it had been pouring rain all night, as it is fond of doing in Manchester.  At our last turn at the University there is a cross walk.  At both sides however, it dips a little where the pavement meets the sidewalk.  This morning, these dips in the road created two puddles which had to be negotiated by the people waiting to cross the street if they wanted to avoid getting their shoes soaked.  But it was in this moment that this crosswalk on this otherwise dreary morning was transformed into a ballet stage.  Simultaneously two people came running to make the cross from each side, and when faced with the puddle leaped across in two giant strides, with their legs scissoring open dramatically.  The puddles now became symmetrical mirrors reflecting the image of these two dancers, one male one female.  Had I not been driving by at that moment I half would have waited to see if they had embraced each other in the middle as he threw her up in the air as she twisted to land before they both bowed and made their way to wherever they were going. 

 It is moments like these that my commute is somehow transformed into something else. 

People have the power to transform their spaces.  This is essentially what parkour is about.  Free running through cities, these athletes/artists turn urban space into playgrounds that they jump through, up, over and beyond.  But people do this all the time in strange little ways, like leaping across two seemingly impassible puddles. In that moment, the mundane dreariness is transformed into a thing of beauty.  It happens all around us, you just have to watch. 

I once spent a day under the pillars in St. Peter's square in Rome with my wife.  We picnicked on bresaola and mini mushroom pizzas as we people watched.  This space is massive which means that people can be in the same square doing totally different things in the space.  A nun and a priest leave their belongings about two meters in front of where we were sitting on the steps under the pillars.  they then begin to start taking pictures of themselves around that area of the square.  eventually they were drawn to the fountains in the middle some 100 yards away.  their bags sat waiting to be stolen.  we watched and waited to see what would happen.  nothing did.  but in a tourist trap where one is always told to beware of thieves and pick pockets, this priest and nun proved somehow that the world is not all as untrustworthy as it seems.  you can leave your bags sitting in the middle of St. Peter's square and nothing will happen to them.  Would i recommend this?  well not really, but the fact remains we are a bit over-suspicious and over scared of the "others" and this cuts against any basic sense of trust which is crucial to social configurations and community. My point is that in this moment of abandon, this priest and nun transformed a watchful tourist area into a carefree playground where we could trust each other to look after each other's things.  They trusted us as they went about enjoying the space and in like manner that inspired trust by us in them.  All that without ever meeting, speaking or even making eye contact.

When we look around, sometimes we see things in our cities that inspire us, and oddly, it is in the morning commute that I see a lot.