Summer '09: Of Post-Rock At Central Park & The Greyhound Bus

A Soaked Out Post-Rock Gig
Hullo! I just got back from New York City on a short 4-day trip to watch "One of My American Bands To See Before I Die", the majestic quartet Explosions In The Sky from Austin, TX. It was a wet (approx. two hours rain before they came on stage, the only shower I had in New York!) but terrific show with Munaf Rayani, one of the guitarists, playing like a man possessed.

During the show, one idiot shouted "Please....I want First Breath [After Coma]" while everyone else was quietly focusing their ears and minds to another song; this heralded someone to shout "Shut the fuck up!," generating a couple of chuckles towards that mood-spoiler. Nothing feels better than crowd justice.

Greyhound: We're On Our Way
Once I was chatting with this American friend who asked me how I travel from State College to Philadelphia. My succinct answer was "Greyhound" and I got a rather interesting riposte: "Don't homeless people take the Greyhound?" I wasn't able to answer that until this trip. While waiting for my transfer at Harrisburg, PA I came upon a rather friendly guy who gave the ubiquitous remark "How you doin'?" and offered me a smoke which I politely declined. Then, that guy proceeded to chat with a woman beside him telling her that he was homeless because both his parents died in a car crash and he has been going from town to town vying his trade as an odd-job worker.

Shifting aside from this sad but true story, Greyhound with its bus terminals have that bizarre charm of producing all the quirky characters that you can imagine. While waiting for the bus at New York, I glanced upon this middle-aged man pushing his elderly mother on a wheelchair towards the departure gate. They were there for some time and suddenly were gone for about 20 minutes. When they came back again, the man was wearing a glittery red dress that was quite tight around the waist (to show his curves?!?) and had lipstick on. I don't know if it's a gag but doing it at 9:30 a.m. during morning rush hour is not the right time to prove a point. Fortunately, both went missing again and didn't board the bus to Harrisburg.

In the bus, I had the privilege to chat with this girl who came from Montreal, Canada to visit her family down at Newark, NJ. We had some small talk about our backgrounds and also about music whereby she put on a baffled face when I mentioned "Explosions In The Sky" and I envied her for being able to be part of Coachella (at least I still have All Points West to look forward to). Even though I have answered my friend's question about the nature of this bus company, I would say that it is more than just homeless people using it to get around. It is like a meeting point of people's journey through their lives: you have tales of sorrows, the downright weirdos and the formation of friendships.

Well, there you have it. The many faces of Greyhound.

I'm Not Romantic But A Romantic

I have an admission to make: I am a romantic.

No, not that kind of being mushy-lovey-dovey-buy-presents-always-call-and-say-I-love-you-to-your-partner romantic. I'm the "other" type: the one who sees-something-as-nostalgic-&-god-damn-beautiful-and-sets-out-to-do-it romantic! Still not getting the drift?

Okay, here's an example. My Malaysian peers way of traveling is to go on road trips where they'd plan out multiple places to go and head out to each place, one by one. The upside of this type of travel is that you can cover a lot of places in a certain amount of time while the downside is that you can only spend a limited amount of time at a particular place then you have to move on to your next stop (unless you have wads of cash and lots of free time, that is) besides being susceptible to unavoidable fuck-ups which could cut short your tour.

In contrast, my method of traveling is backpacking to a certain city or town and bunking out there for 5-7 days before moving on. Now the romantic part is when I'm there, I want to immerse myself in the soul and culture of that place until I know (almost) every nook and cranny of the place. It's more than just buying a fridge magnet or key chain to show you've been there, it's trying to become a part of the city, even a teeny-weenie bit of it.

Another example which has some connection close to home (meaning my tanah tumpahnya darahku, Malaysia) is my insistence on taking the bus to travel rather than driving a car although the cost of riding the former ($30 to $40 one-way to Philadelphia) would be more costly than the latter. As a self-proclaimed romantic, taking the bus reminds me of riding the express bus heading back to my hometown, Kuantan, when I was in Malaysia. Taking the slow KTM commuter & LRT trains from my campus at Shah Alam to the bus station at Jalan Pekeliling then straight away bought a ticket for RM 16.90 (around $5.00 at current exchange rate) and always, always, always went for either Plusliner, MARA Liner or Bulan Restu which was way comfortable and faster than the gobshite Transnasional.

Next, I had to wait under the bus stop which had only two fans capable of giving little room for a breather as long I was shielded from the hot and sweaty tropical climate. So, taking the bus to-and-fro Philadelphia reminds me of my going back home where I have time to see the sceneries (Pennsylvania has livestock farms while Pahang has oil palm plantations) and just reflect on whatever I wanna reflect on. Read a book. Listen to music. Or just take a nap. When I've finally arrived, I felt a sense of rejuvenation and elation of going through a long physical and spiritual journey to reach home. Sweet home.

Told ya I was a romantic! =P