Showing posts with label Place. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Place. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 09, 2008

Cycling and the fostering of community

Through Today at the Mission (hat-tip: Ariel) comes news of an organization called Africycle, a Canadian-based charitable organization dedicated to both raising money for providing quality used bicycles to people in Malawi and maintaining bicycle repair shops in Malawi.

From the website: "Many Malawians experience difficulty accessing quality bicycles, due to economic constraints and the limited availability of affordable, reliable bicycles in the local market. Africycle believes that by providing bicycles it can be a catalyst for sustainable and effective development in Malawian communities."

Granted, Wichita is not Malawi, and the statement above refers overtly to economic development. But yesterday morning, as I did a bit of errand-running via my bike (in a moderate but steady rain), I gave the Wichita version of this some thought. The nearest full-service grocery store is now about 3 miles from where I live (until this spring when it closed, there had been one just a mile away). But as I rode about in my neighborhood, I noted that I can meet just about any other basic or recurring need I might have within an easy ride of where I live. Case in point: I'm due for a haircut. I'd gotten into the habit of going to Wal-Mart to get it cut there (decent--I'm not particular about haircuts--and cheap). But on my route yesterday I passed two barbershops that offer cheaper haircuts. Moreover, there are two good used bookstores in the neighborhood (one of which I'd not noticed until yesterday). And so on. Also, I got to greet some people in the neighborhood as I rode past their houses.

You see where I'm going with this, I hope. Before, when I was going on all Walden-like about this, I'd focused on the personal and (true, infinitesimal in and of themselves) global benefits of my cycling about town. Something I'd not really considered, though, is that by making more purchases here in this part of town, I can do my small part to help keep some folks in business (some of them look like they could use the revenue). I'll also feel more like I do more than just sleep here--I'll feel like I live here.

UPDATE: Apropos of cycling in urban areas, via this Matthew Yglesias post noting the death of a cyclist in Washington, D.C., comes the new-to-me notion of bike boxes. Portland, Oregon, already one of the bike-friendliest cities in the U.S., is beginning to install them. These are already used in some European cities; I hope those of you from Europe can comment on what expenses are involved with creating bike-boxes, aside from having to repaint some intersections.

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Saturday, November 17, 2007

On reading strange books in strange lands

Over at Atlantic Ave., Amy is participating in a book meme (similar to one I had posted a while back). But I'm not posting because of that; I'm posting because the book that Amy, who lives in New Hampshire, happens to be reading just now is Faulkner's Absalom, Absalom!

I had wanted to ask her this in the comments section, but I thought I'd save my weirdness for my own blog:

What's it like, reading Faulkner in New England (even though part of it is set at Harvard)?

I ask this because of a reading experience I had, years ago.

The novel was John Irving's The Cider House Rules--bought in hardback, no less!--and the occasion was a train trip from Nuevo Laredo to Mexico City back in my college days. I was excited about reading the Irving because I'd become, if not a fan, then at least an appreciative reader--I'd especially enjoyed The Hotel New Hampshire.

So, after a breakfast of café con leche and pan dulce at our stop in San Luís Potosí, I returned to my room and started to read.

Or tried to.

Something wasn't working. I assure you that the landscape south of San Luís Potosí isn't much to look at (you've seen one sagebrush-covered plain, you've seen them all), so it wasn't the view that was distracting me. Nor was it that the book was bad. I just wasn't getting it, for some reason--it wasn't resonating with me at that level where a reader grasps the world of the text as well as the plot and characters, etc. As I kept after it, it gradually dawned on me that maybe I was in some sense reading it in the wrong place. The Cider House Rules depends heavily on its New England setting (look at the title), but I wasn't even in Texas, where I'd at least have the faintly-felt tug of culture to ground me. No, it was the place where I found myself as I was trying to read: it was too distinct, both geographically and culturally, to serve as a complement to Irving's narrative.

I finally gave up on trying to read it while in Mexico. But I had also brought along with me Gabriel García Márquez's One Hundred Years of Solitude. I had read it before, but at that time it had seemed to me a beautifully-written but bizarre book. It was a book not about another part of the world, but another planet. This time, though, though northern Mexico could not be more different from the steamy Caribbean coast of Colombia, this time it clicked with me, very nearly audibly. It seemed as though in a sense I was on that other planet.

So anyway: does any of this sound like reading experiences any of you have had? If so, I hope you'll reassure me that I'm not entirely daft by posting about it/them on your blogs and linking back here.

I'm looking forward to reading what you have to tell.

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