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Date: August 17, 2003
(If you haven't read "Going Nowhere" you might like to read that
one first. Visit http//:www.theArgonauts.com.)
This morning I rode my bike down the mountain, all the way to the Chinese border
(again) and the train station. Nothing in the world could convince me to ride
my bicycle back to Hanoi. There were some tense vein-popping moments when my berth
was double booked and I had to curl, press, and bench 25 kilos of gear through
seven overcrowded cars chasing the conductor God knows where.
I was horrified when the conductor slowed down in the general class seating,
hardwood benches ergonomically designed for a crate of vegetables and packed full
of quarreling, kicking homesteaders. Eventually, I end up in the staff's cabin,
a tiny room measuring exactly my height with arm outstretched by my height by
my width. I have a bed, a door, a window and air conditioning. I lock myself in
and prop myself against the window not believing my good fortune.
Outside, Mars, which is closer then it has been in 59,620 years, was a bright
orange dot just below the full moon. The train snakes alongside the Red River.
The river and hills are silver and green and shrouded in mist. The silhouettes
of the tropical jungle scroll past my window. I remember camping next to a tiny
river in India. The shore was covered with thousands of glow worms that twinkled
in the grass like the Milky Way though they bumbled about invisible to each other.
Now, with the giant river beside me and the windows of the train illuminating
the countryside, I feel as if I am the glow worm, one of the thousands of stars
racing through the universe creating a pattern like the Milky Way.
Most days I can't even remember the name of where I am going. Other
times I remember an offhand remark from months ago. For instance, I
remember some fellows all agreeing, "Yeah, when the bus broke down I
couldn't sleep either." This is also my problem even though when the
bumpy bus stops it should be the ideal time to have a nap. Tonight,
every time the train stops I awake. Once, I see a large, white cat
glowing in the moonlight, blue eyes sparkling, perched atop a pile of
black, black coal. It is like a sphinx contemplating the universe of
glow worms, each glow worm a riddle to itself. When the train begins
moving, its chattering and rocking send me drifting into sleep. "Good,
we are going somewhere," I think.
I'm off to see the wizard.
The wonderful wizard of Oz.
Because, because, because, because, because.
Because of the wonderful things he does.
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