tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6362192907007766017.post7155879686590143003..comments2024-02-23T02:57:43.219-08:00Comments on Postcards: There Was a MomentMagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17333086721654817750noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6362192907007766017.post-62548599697997409122008-12-04T03:13:00.000-08:002008-12-04T03:13:00.000-08:00Mage,It isn't that I am always comfortable when I ...Mage,<BR/>It isn't that I am always comfortable when I get on a strange conveyance. Don't forget, just as I don't photograph everything, I don't always write everything. Also, I am living out of time, in the sense that I know few people here, have no time constraints and no commitments. So it doesn't matter where or when I arrive. There is always a card with the hotel name in my pocket, and fortunately, enough money for a taxi, in the worst case.<BR/><BR/>RutheAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6362192907007766017.post-41740788535676443362008-12-03T22:49:00.000-08:002008-12-03T22:49:00.000-08:00I'm more like your friend then you are. When enter...I'm more like your friend then you are. When entering a new bus or train on a route I've never taken before, I usually ask two fellow passengers whether they know if this bus/train goes to stop XX. If they affirm this fact, I usually just sit back and relax; knowing that even if the bus goes somewhere else, it nearly always comes back to the place of origin. So, I'd miss an appointment, at least I'd be on an adventure. Also, in my experience bus drivers are a helpful lot. They might make you feel stupid for getting on the wrong bus, but they will tell you how to get back home.lilaliahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17834341657842966966noreply@blogger.com