Saturday, September 30, 2006
My 'hood
Friday 29th September, a dark and rainy night
Hyde Park continues to grow on me as a neighbourhood. It’s got a nice mix of folks in it. It is a bit like North Oxford or somewhere. It has plenty of foreigners and academics involved in the University, of course, plus there is a large black community. It also has a cooperative supermarket with broken machines and disorganised shelves, but a big heart. The man at the fish counter recommended that I try Tilapia the other day. I said
“How do you cook that?”
He said “It’s versatile, you can bake it, fry it, broil it… You can roll it”, and made me promise to come back and tell him how it tasted. A few days ago a dishevelled crazy accosted us as we left the supermarket. He screeched “I am not a bum!”
“I never said you were,” I thought.
I do a lot of walking round and round in Nichols Park, right by my house here in Hyde Park (as I have not been able to find the ‘Hyde’ Park – indeed, I am sceptical of its very existence.)
I go round and round with the pushchair (buggy) with my copy of Henry IV part 1 in my hand, whilst Jacob looks at the trees, or just nods off. Having a baby is a great way to get people to open up to you. As I pass by people smile at me and my son, or stop to talk to one or both of us.
Yesterday there were a couple of tramps (bums) on a bench with a supermarket trolley full of stuff, and some beers and a few old supermarket bestsellers strewn across the park path. I passed them several times with the pushchair (buggy). On the first, the more bearded of the two said,
“How ya doing there?”
as I passed. I smiled back at him.
As I passed on my rotations of the park the next few times I had my head buried (on purpose?) in my Henry. The more bearded of the two was saying to the other things like,
“But do you really like women? You really like women, don’t you?” And the other was muttering.
Up by the playground a large black dog barked at a tiny black dog with a beard – it barked so hard it pulled its owner by its tugging on the lead (leash).
On the sports field children were playing baseball – a big fat father was shouting things like “Get out there! Back up! Back up!” to his ten-year old charges, and on the other side of the field I could see an American football game (a football game) being played and hear piping voices say “Hut, hut, hut.” I’m not kidding. That’s what they said.
Walking round a grassy knoll, a group of small blond kids drove by in red plastic motorised car.
Nearer the playground on my way back again, I saw a little group of black teenagers walking along. The girls swung their tight-clad hips and the boys loped in their loose swaddles. When I overtook them I noticed that they were younger than they had seemed. The slimmer of the two girls said “get out the way. Don’t you see you holding up the man with the baby?”
As I drew level with them the girls stopped and cooed, “What a cute little baby.” We exchanged pleasantries. The boy in a black basketball shirt said
“Er.. what’s your race?”
I said, “Um.. what do you mean?”
He said, “What’s your nationality?”
I said, “Oh, I’m from England.”
He said, “Oh.”
It was a strange way to ask where I am from.
On the way out of the park, the beardy tramp (bum) said “This a NICE neighbourhood! I LIKE Hyde Park. It’s SOOO peaceful! Shhhh! Don’t wake the baby!”
Hyde Park continues to grow on me as a neighbourhood. It’s got a nice mix of folks in it. It is a bit like North Oxford or somewhere. It has plenty of foreigners and academics involved in the University, of course, plus there is a large black community. It also has a cooperative supermarket with broken machines and disorganised shelves, but a big heart. The man at the fish counter recommended that I try Tilapia the other day. I said
“How do you cook that?”
He said “It’s versatile, you can bake it, fry it, broil it… You can roll it”, and made me promise to come back and tell him how it tasted. A few days ago a dishevelled crazy accosted us as we left the supermarket. He screeched “I am not a bum!”
“I never said you were,” I thought.
I do a lot of walking round and round in Nichols Park, right by my house here in Hyde Park (as I have not been able to find the ‘Hyde’ Park – indeed, I am sceptical of its very existence.)
I go round and round with the pushchair (buggy) with my copy of Henry IV part 1 in my hand, whilst Jacob looks at the trees, or just nods off. Having a baby is a great way to get people to open up to you. As I pass by people smile at me and my son, or stop to talk to one or both of us.
Yesterday there were a couple of tramps (bums) on a bench with a supermarket trolley full of stuff, and some beers and a few old supermarket bestsellers strewn across the park path. I passed them several times with the pushchair (buggy). On the first, the more bearded of the two said,
“How ya doing there?”
as I passed. I smiled back at him.
As I passed on my rotations of the park the next few times I had my head buried (on purpose?) in my Henry. The more bearded of the two was saying to the other things like,
“But do you really like women? You really like women, don’t you?” And the other was muttering.
Up by the playground a large black dog barked at a tiny black dog with a beard – it barked so hard it pulled its owner by its tugging on the lead (leash).
On the sports field children were playing baseball – a big fat father was shouting things like “Get out there! Back up! Back up!” to his ten-year old charges, and on the other side of the field I could see an American football game (a football game) being played and hear piping voices say “Hut, hut, hut.” I’m not kidding. That’s what they said.
Walking round a grassy knoll, a group of small blond kids drove by in red plastic motorised car.
Nearer the playground on my way back again, I saw a little group of black teenagers walking along. The girls swung their tight-clad hips and the boys loped in their loose swaddles. When I overtook them I noticed that they were younger than they had seemed. The slimmer of the two girls said “get out the way. Don’t you see you holding up the man with the baby?”
As I drew level with them the girls stopped and cooed, “What a cute little baby.” We exchanged pleasantries. The boy in a black basketball shirt said
“Er.. what’s your race?”
I said, “Um.. what do you mean?”
He said, “What’s your nationality?”
I said, “Oh, I’m from England.”
He said, “Oh.”
It was a strange way to ask where I am from.
On the way out of the park, the beardy tramp (bum) said “This a NICE neighbourhood! I LIKE Hyde Park. It’s SOOO peaceful! Shhhh! Don’t wake the baby!”
# posted by Ed @ 4:52 am 
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Excuse my lurking (I don't know you so I feel like a bit of a voyeur). Your impressions of America are fascinating. I especially like your accounts about race. It's very difficult to see our race relations from the outside, and although I've lived abroad, I never gained a new perspective on race in America.
Belated congrautlations to you and Flora on being new Parents (Jacob's adorable). Best of luck in Chicago.
Belated congrautlations to you and Flora on being new Parents (Jacob's adorable). Best of luck in Chicago.
well, i don't pretend to know what is going on just in general. as Pete said, the US probably do race relations better than anyone as they just have to. so excuse any idiocies in my musings.
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