A Day At The Park

This Saturday I made a trip to a near-by park. Something I have been meaning to do ever since I moved into the apartment. Since my usual cast of companions are out of the country this week on business I decide that it's a perfect time to check this place off my to see list.

located 4 big blocks from my apartment it takes me less than 10 minutes to walk there. Along the way I stock up on some Gatorade and a couple of random snacks. My backpack is light but I've learned to over prepare.

I was told that this is a favorite place for the locals to fly kites. I wasn't disappointed. Kites were being flown all about. The park is very large and has several large fields for flying them. Each field is encircled by dozens and dozens of statues. On one side there is a lake and in the center of the park is a steep hill that has wonderful vista point. It is topped by a large statue of Mao. At least that's what I have been told. When I actually see the statue I don't see much of a resemblance. It must have been someone else. I meander back down to the fields. All the walking and sweating is wearing me out. I spy a bench off on a rise at the field's far end. All around unspooled kites strings lay strewn about in random patterns on the grass. I do my best to cross this potential mind field, and find myself close to reaching the bench I have my eyes on. I have headphones on and am minding my own business when out of the corner of my eye I see some old woman making wild hand gestures at me. I turn off the music and hear her yelling. Apparently at me, and for what I have no idea. I reach the bench, take a seat, and watch as this lady continues walking looking over her shoulder, blabbering. I have no idea what has just happened. I check my shins but there aren't any kite strings wrapped around them. I just chalk it up to foreigner angst.

It's an unfortunate reality here, and one that is hard to ignore. I have collected many an evil eye on this day. perhaps they are San Fransisco Giants fans and maybe my Dodgers t-shirt is rubbing them the wrong way. Or the sweat stains collected on it are repugnant. In which case I couldn't blame them. Maybe it was the way I was rocking out with my headphones blaring, singing along at the top of my lungs, dance walking, and pointing screaming-fingers at people. Any of these reasons would have been adequate or sadistically satisfying. But in truth you are sometimes considered just another intruder. In a contemplative moment, sitting on this bench, I experience a wide range of emotions. My anger and indignation is soothed by looking around the park. I See families enjoying their picnics, kids flying kites, general peace and contentment that would be no different in any park. That's when I took this picture.