Isolation is...

Gareth left for Switzerland on Wednesday for a week - This place subsequently got a lot lonelier. I've come to know a few of the edocs people but when you're alone, things get a lot colder. I can't ever imagine going travelling on my own, unless there was a purpose such as cycling from point to point or making a wad-load of money. Why is that? I dream of spending such experiences with someone close. *sigh*

On Thursday I just decided to go for a walk after returning from work, I took my camera along and just walked. It was 7 in the evening, but the sun still had another 2 or so hours to go. What an enriching experience to see aliens go about their afternoon lives, raiding the ice-cream stall, sitting on their patios watching the sun go down. The squirrels went nuts in their trees, birds frolicked on the immaculate lawns of the average Joe and Jane Smith Residences.

After another turn off one of the busier roads I was greeted with a sight to make any pleb jealous. Houses, No, Estates reeking of wealth, sick with wealth, and just behind our hotel. I was hoping to find a road or path to connect me back to my hotel, but this road wasn't going anywhere except into lucious suburbs. So I gathered the nerve to ask some of the well-off-locals and boy, did I get an answer. The one middle-aged cap-wearing sedan-driving doctor-type made it his personal mission to find out if there was a trail leading through the woods to connect me to the hotel road. Here he was, in the driveway of his own home, and didn't know if the local surrounding forest had any trails in it. I bet he had never walked up the road of his own blissville. How sad is that? I guess thats the difference between a have and a have-not. Americans take a lot for granted. I guess South Africans do too, but they're different things we forget and neglect.

So after contemplating the worth of it all and avoiding his waffling about how he'd only been there for 6 months I carried on walking. This was a walk through increasing budgets, house after house the yards got bigger, the cars parked outside got more expensive. Finally I bumped into some more people and received some decent directions. I had to walk accross a field fragrant with summer flowers, 50 meters or so in width, the last border between the wilderness and suburbia. I felt like Maximus, skimming my palms through the wheat, feeling more alive than ever. The trees formed a tunnel, revealing the trail through. I felt like I was stepping into a new realm. My dreams of becoming a bandit in this Sherwood forest were shattered when the trees opened up to become a frikkin parking lot. An empty concrete wasteland of parking lot.

I do appreciate the appreciation for nature here, but I can't help but think that man comes selfishly first here. Nature comes a sad second. Spatterings of reservations, asphalt cleavers splitting the last true residents. Here on Route 9, 4 lanes of busy New England road, theres a concrete island barrier running most of the length. On the drive back from work one day, I was horrified to see a mother goose and her goslings stranded between the barrier and certain motorised death.

There are no flies, ants, mosquitos, grasshoppers here. I have no idea what the 3 species of birds feed on. Americans spend about 5 Billion Dollars on pest eradication each year. (I'm sure you could feed the whole of Africa for that same amount - but that's pointless) I don't know if its climate related or what, but man has taken over here. A pest in his own right.

C'est la vie?

Well, this weekend marks a record week for me. I billed 63 hours in a week. Last Saturday, Gareth and I made a point of going out and doing some walking through one of the reservations south of Boston: Blue Hills, outside Milton. We walked about 3-4 miles of some of the most amazing pine forests in New England. The half-way mark of the walk was an ancient 3-storey observation tower with a panoramic view of Boston and surroundings. Awe-inspiring. The oldest weather station in America was to be found just a stones throw away too. We saw plenty of squirrels including some curious ground based buggers. The place is a mountain-bikers heaven.

It was then time to see what the coastal life of southern Boston was like, so we climbed into the hot car and drove towards the atlantic. After a few wrong turns we came accross Marina Bay. A private and snobby yacht club, masses of Bayliners, this was a miniature Monaco in its own right. So we had a few drinks. (I'm seeing a trend here :D) Thats when the HMB's emerged, prowling for dollars. Sure, we had a bit to drink already but we both new, these were real chicks! After oogling for hours, drinking and watching the sun set we decided to brave the car trip back. Mixing with snobs is hard work.

When I got back, I crashed. Work was due for Sunday :/