traffic.

yesterday i saw a woman driving a bus through downtown sydney. now the extraordinary part about this is not that a woman was driving the bus. that is commonplace. what really struck me was how this woman looked. this woman looked, for all intents and purposes, like helen mirren. dame helen mirren driving the 333 bondi express, prepay only. she was regal in that effortlessly relaxed kind of way. she had a bolt of silver hair swept into a dramatic side part. she was wearing what can only be described as a white peasant blouse. driving a bus.

i like this city.
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today a woman in a red car almost ran me down as i was walking through a pedestrian crossing on macquarie street by the state library. she had her window open and said a very genuine "i'm sorry" as she drove through. and i believed her. "it's okay," i assured her with an understanding half smile. and i meant it.

further down macquarie street traffic was stopped. a young man lay in the middle of the road. he had been hit by a passing car (not the aforementioned red one though- wouldn't that have been a 'run lola run' moment!) and all northbound vehicles were held in a growing queue. no one- and i must repeat no one- was honking or throwing empty big gulp cups or sneaking up the shoulder. people were waiting- patiently. they couldn't even see what was wrong, and yet there they stood, engines idling, moments ticking away. not going anywhere.

stop the traffic on yonge street for thirty seconds. tell me how long it takes before someone honks.
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there are many people who work in the heart of city (called the cbd- short for central business district) who live on the north shore and who don't take the train or bus across the harbour bridge to get home. these people rely instead on a bevy of ferries that depart from circular quay to carry them home.

around 4:30 the top of the city starts to get pretty busy. the footpaths (they are not called sidewalks, they are called footpaths. i think it makes them sound rather quaint)- anyway, the footpaths start to crowd with bustling commuters, most headed for the alphabetical bus stands on york street or to wynyard station. and then there are the choice few headed for the ferry docks. and man do they run.

now ferries are many things, but they are not necessarily speedy. i believe most harbour ferries clock out at an astounding seven kilometres an hour. and so i find it quite funny to be tearing through the city in heels to get aboard something most four year-olds can outswim. asleep.

but then what do i know? i've never had to take a boat to work.