Urban behavior

footsteps of the Furies
3 min readOct 4, 2022

--

October 4th

There is a noise of many conversations in numerous languages being conducted at the same time everywhere around me. There is a hum of cars, not so much driving, but jerking by inches in suffocating traffic. Trams have their own peculiar sound of metal wheels on the tracks and loud bells. Trolleybuses with each start sound like they are inhaling a lot of air to get in motion. There are sounds of cellphones and phone conversations on Bluetooth, where you simply don’t know if a person walking toward you while talking loudly and gesticulating is barking mad or is just doing some extremely important business deal.

And there is me in all that, feeling supremely confident and assured.

I am a city boy, born and raised in the city, and I have been living in cities for the vast majority of my life. A quick calculation tells me that in my 48 years on this planet — I never lived in a village, I lived in towns (lets say places with a population under 30,000 people) for 5 years, and the rest in cities of at least 300,000 people. That is the life I know. This urban living is in my blood and in my behavior. Of course, there is a difference between living in Bialystok (a city of 300,000 people) and living in New York City. But in all honesty — that difference is only on a scale of the size of a place.

There is a particular behavior needed to navigate the city — the purpose and the swagger. You need to appear that you know where you are going (even when not so sure), you need to appear that you belong here within and with the crowds, and you need to employ a special scowl that shows bemusement and “don’t talk to me” attitude at the same time. The pace of walking needs to be quicker than other people and slalom skills to avoid all the slow walking slobs (i.e. tourists) need to be always on display. And all that came to me quite naturally since my first minutes in a strange and foreign city. I still got it and don’t even need to think to recall it as needed.

The thing is — I am not so sure if I would like it for more time than a short vacation.

--

--

footsteps of the Furies
footsteps of the Furies

Written by footsteps of the Furies

“for they knew what sort of noise it was; they recognize, by now, the footsteps of the Furies”. Enjoying life on the road to recovery. Observing and writing.

No responses yet