Sounds of Silence. Summer out of the City.

Back in town after a few days north of the border where we collected the 14 year old from her summer camp experience. It was a beautiful day to drive South via Ithaca with a stop at Moosewood Café and quick tour of the University/College town and home of DT’s alma mater. I must say, for a place that is “gorges,” the trash cans are not abundant but neither is the trash (so something’s going right). I loved the crunchy nature of the place – strikingly white, however, or is it just me? After yesterday’s visit to the Canadian side of Niagara Falls where our foursome was clearly in the minority of nations represented, the whiteness of Ithaca was striking.

And speaking of another world, the husband/physician-scientist and I listened to Kiran Desai’s The Inheritance of Loss which was nothing less than incredibly depressing. But compelling and a good listen for hours on end, 800+ miles in five days) through beautiful rolling tree covered hills, lush farmland, alongside lakes and across rivers.

We reached 125th Street on the West Side early this evening when we heard our first car horn after days of silence. A traffic-light changed just seconds prior, make that split in the life of the hurried traveler. “Welcome to the City,” said the horn/husband. Sheesh.

And then, after class this eve, as I exited a cab, a car honked at a line of cars being blocked by a trash truck. Fortunately for me, the cabbie suggested I take my time. That was a gift. Honestly, deep breaths and remaining calm are what it will take for me to be back in this noisy metropolis where so many people are in perpetual motion. Where are they heading, why are they rushed? Give me strength. Give me silence. I can no longer hear the loons calling.

One response to “Sounds of Silence. Summer out of the City.

  1. The “whiteness” of Ithaca. Yes, I remember that well. After my mostly international middle/high school, I would sometimes feel confined by the whiteout,and all of the horrible concrete buildings of my campus. When that happened, I headed over to “Collegetown” and the beautiful, familiar-looking ivy walls and multi-cultural faces.

    As wonderful as Ithaca was to breathe and not rush, life at a slow pace can be frustrating as well.

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