Inner Harbour/ Little Italy

After riding the MTA bus from the first stop on the route (Cromwell Bridge Road, surprisingly very close to my house) to the last stop on the route (Charles and Pratt Streets, near the Inner Harbour), my mom, dad, and I arrived downtown. This was the first time that I've taken a public bus in Baltimore. I took one in DC and later wrote about the experience in my why I want to go to GW essay (and I guess it must have been interesting if I got in!)-- let's just essay that I didn't intend to take the bus, but an elderly woman insisted that I should after I asked her for directions and she explained I was very far from where I wanted to be.
In India I made a habit of taking the bus. For starters I had to ride a school bus (at RPCS we only ever ride a bus on field trips) and to be honest that was probably one of my favorite parts of the day. The Indian host school was very big so there were two bus shifts: we rode into school on the earlier bus with kids our age and took the later bus home with the younger kids. I had to switch buses when I moved to my second Indian host family, but I will always be an F bus kid. I met some of my closest friends on that afternoon bus. So you have to understand that these buses were VERY VERY VERY crowded with four or five people to each bench seat and many kids forced to stand. For this reason I was glad that the younger kids were excited by us Americans and would want us to sit with them. And this is how I met my friends: everyday I would head to the back of the bus to my guaranteed seat. Over the next four months I would meet their families, go over their houses, and (unknowingly) break their dietary restrictions-- they're Hindu and thus strict vegetarians (what Americans would consider Vegans) which btw apparently means marshmallows are off limits.

(If you couldn't tell, I'm the white kid in the back.) Those were the school buses, I also rode the public buses. In school we studied Hindi. But Regardless of the fact that there were complications with the teacher to say the least, the official language spoken in Andrea Pradesh (the state were Vizag is located) is Telagu which makes communicating with locals pretty damn hard. Now Telagu and Hindi are probally as far apart as Latin and Arabic: they have different alphabets and grammatical structuring. So of course, everything on the buses (i.e. the direction and stops) was in Telagu. Let's just say I got on the bus that looked like it was heading in the direction I wanted to go in and prayed the bus conductor spoke English. In all seriousness though towards the end of my stay I did start using the bus as part of my regular commute, thus spending 5cents instead of the approx. $1 fare charged by the auto-rickishaw drivers.

About the Inner Harbour...
The first thing I noticed was the smell. The water taxi driver later told us that the pesticides from farms were draining heavily into the water supply because of all the rain (the Harbour area was nearly flooded). He said this caused the dead fish too.

Besides the smell though, I found the area to be quite nice and much more colorful than I last remember it. Many of the dock cleats (or mooring bollards) had been painted as well as the benches (which by the way had no dividers).

There were also many bicycle racks shaped like bicycles.

I came into this day without any listed murals that I planned to see. My dad and I had driven past little Italy on our way to Fells Point the other day and saw many murals so we decided to go back and just walk around. Here's some of what we found:

This next mural was very intricate and appeared to almost be divided into two. On the first half, the town appeared busy on a normal Friday night. But on the second half, a funeral precession was occurring. The two halves are split by a piece of ivy. On the left you can see a bartender fixing drinks, while the church procession is beginning on the right.

Here the restaurant doors blend into the artwork:

I came across this old church. Not only did it had a beautiful mosaic, but also a cross outside on the side walk.

And of course, what would Little Italy be without a Bocce court?Note the painted benches (which do not have dividers).

Washington Monument/ Mt. Vernon

Today my dad and I took the light rail into the city. We rode the light rail from the Lutherville stop down to Lexington Market where we got off and headed into the city on foot. If you look at the top of the pictured building you will see an ad for Luskin's electronics. I didn't pay any attention to it, but my dad pointed out that there used to be a Luskin's near our house but it went out of business 10 years ago. I guess that ad must be really old then, huh?

One cool aspect of this mural is that it show cases the change over time of a street block. Initially the houses are bordered up and the citizens unengaged.

Next, the area was clean and the citizens seemed content.

Finally, the citizens don't settle for being content and instead become proactive in their community.

I saw this on a the window of a day-care center and couldn't help but smile. On a week before had us senior thirteen year girls sung the song "How does your garden grow?" from our first grade play with the lower schoolers at their spring concert.

This looked very Banksy-esque, although I don't think the man himself has come to Baltimore, yet. This graffiti seemed very fitting for a bordered up store front.

This mural was called "My Sister's Garden" so I wonder if it has any connection with the shelter My Sister's Place. As the mural says, each of the 100 flowers in the garden was designed by a homeless women. Many of the churches in the Mt. Vernon area are adorned with art work.

These yellow ribbons are prayer ribbons. Across the street from the ribbons was a painted screen; Baltimore is famous for them.

I just loved this mural. And on the other side of the abandoned performance center there was another mural.

There was an abandoned theatre that too was covered in art work.

My dad and I had some extra time to kill before my mom was going to pick us up so after I realized we were close to Red Emma's I decided that we should check it out. I had first heard of the coffeehouse/ bookstore from a girl whom I traveled to Egypt with. She was from DC and suggested that we meet up and check out Red Emma's after we got back to the States. This girl was quite the independent one (she choose not to wear a bra, deodorant, or shave anywhere-- not that there's anything wrong with that) and I admired her spirit. We didn't, however, stay in touch after we got back and somewhere along the line the name Red Emma's had morphed into Red Rabbit's and then Red Room or maybe even the Red Velvet. As a result, I never found the venue. That is until my parents brought home the Baltimore Magazine's City Guide 2009: Secrets of the City--101 Things to Eat, See & Do. Red Emma's was featured in the Intellectual Temple section.

I found the sign on the store front window amusing. You should also know that "Reflecting the current economy, Red Emma's honors the Euro."

I was in the market for a new book so I got The Taqwacores, a novel by Michael Muhammad Knight about the Islamic punk rock scene which has been VERY interesting thus far. When the cashier was ringing up the book, he asked me whether I was a part of a labour union (presumably because he would have given me a discount). I hesitated before saying no. But let's take a second look, shall we? While I never actually signed up for the CPI (Communist Party of India), the CPI-M, or AISF (the party's youth branch), I did partake in rallies and according to one newspaper was thus endorsing the party.

So should I have said yes to his question? Is a political party the same as a labour union though? Perhaps the very fact that I'm even asking these questions means that saying no was the correct answer, at least for now.

Hamden

Hamden may be know for Cafe Hon, but I decided to dig a little deeper than that.

I mean where else are you going to find vintage Chanel?

I was surprised to find a little bit of India in Hamden. As a matter of fact, the shop had shirts with Hindu gods painted on them-- an item that I had been looking for while I in India, but couldn't find!

Lake Trout and Fried Chicken

I was surprised to come across many un-listed murals, but I guess they were foretelling an entire day of surprises...

This is a decorative border at a school next to the first mural. And then the wall next to it was just blank:

I had never come across Lake Trout before, but once I saw one sign it seemed as though they started popping up everywhere I looked. I did so research and I found this article on Metromix: Baltimore by Brandon Picchierri entitled Munchie: Lake Trout—It’s a local tradition, but is it good?

"Culinarily speaking, there are very few dishes that are still specific to one region. Southern barbecue is everywhere, there are Cajun restaurants across the country. Even Maryland crab cakes (minus the required Old Bay) pop up in the most unexpected places.Then there's lake trout—one dish that stays true to the streets of Baltimore, without so much as a thought of moving up or down I-95. Neither from an actual lake nor an actual trout, lake trout is most often a fish commonly known as an Atlantic whiting, or just whiting, and is very easily and abundantly caught right off the coast of Maryland and Virginia. Almost always deep-fried, breaded and served on plain white bread, Lake Trout usually begs for condiments. Hot sauce and mayonnaise, ketchup and horseradish, salt and pepper; the choice is yours. If it could be compared to anything, we'd describe it as a poor man's fish and chips.Perhaps "The Wire"'s Jimmy McNulty and Bunk Moreland express it best:McNulty: "Lake trout? It's a white fish. A trash fish." Bunk: "Yeah; it's a white-trash fish." "

“The In Spirit” Park was truly food for thought. And it not only had a mural (with a deep message, literally written out might I add), but also has memorial trees for lynching, September 11th, violence, slavery, violence, addiction, and civil rights.
Sadly the area surrounding the mural isn't all that great. I was pleasantly surprised to find wind chimes on each of the memorial trees. My grandpa has a wind chime outside of his apartment and when I was up there last weekend he would bang it forcibly every time we went into the house. These wind chimes, however, were so far up in the trees that only the wind could touch them.

In this mural while there’s a white boy playing with black children in the bottom half of the mural, but there appears to be no white figures of importance looking over the community. I don't really know what kind of message they were trying to send with that: kids you can play with whites, but don't look up to any of them?

I found many murals celebrating graduation (there were a surprising number of schools in the area). In the first mural, the children are looking at map of the area as if to say that a high school diploma can (as it rightfully does) give you control over your surrounding and, as the boy looking at the globe testifies, the power to dream on a global level. Notice also the jubilee.
Notice that BU is written on the girl’s graduation gown.

In another mural I found a lot of pride for the area. SOWEBO stands for south west Baltimore. I think this mural is really neat because it is set up like a bulletin board (notice the thumb tacks). This mural was near Franklin Square (where a high school is located) and it was also on what appeared to be the main eating/ shopping avenue for the area.

What a great view of the downtown area.

Around this time my dad and I were getting hungry for lunch. I had seen Lexington Market as we were driving to the first mural so I suggested me go there. However, at one of the last murals before lunch, we stumbled upon another market. Now I, as I think most Baltimoreans are, am familiar with the big markets: mainly Lexington and Northeast, but I had never heard of the Hollins Market. My dad was hesitant about going in because the surrounding area was not all the great. I cut a deal with him and said we would go to Lexington Market for lunch, but first go in to use the bathroom at Rollins Market. In my defense the building was immaculately clean and there were even these cute, inviting foot prints on the nearby sidewalk that lead up to the market. And of course, right next to the market was the colorful mural (with an accompanying colorful fence) that we had originally intended to see. So upon entering we asked one of the vendors where the bathroom was. He said he would take us and brought the keys from his stall. When we had gotten back to the car, my dad told me that the man who let him into the men’s bathroom had asked him: “what are you all on a field trip today?”. So maybe we didn’t look like me belonged but it was nice to find such a diamond in the ruff.

I was surprised to find that SOOOO many of the murals not only had trash in front of them, but were partially blocked by trees. Yes, trees are great for the environment and the landscape, but they’re blocking the art work!
This one had a fence too.

As I was driving (it was raining today) to one of the last murals, I came across what appeared to be an abandoned house in a neighborhood park. I walked around the building and it was sealed off; there was no way to get in. There was a group of guys sitting across the street and I really wish I had asked them if they knew anything about it. I’m reading this book though, called Capital City and it's about drug warfare in DC and to be completely honest it has slightly scared the shit out of me. And I feel awful that I’m making any assumptions, but: and that’s the key, but.
Yeah, those are the guys. Notice also “This is my park.” This was a bench right next to the building. So I have this thing about benches. I spent last summer taking a class at Georgetown and when I was down there someone said that Georgetown was almost completely separate from the rest of DC. They used the metro and benches as an example. You see, in Georgetown while the benches are long (fitting three or four people like a normal bench), they have dividers so that no one (i.e. the homeless) can not lie down (and sleep) on them. This bench eliminates that problem because it isn't even big enough for someone to lie down on! And about the DC metro (there is one is Baltimore too and I was surprised to find that it had a stop at Lexington Market; let's just say I'm very excited to ride it later this week), I think a passage in my book Capital City sums up thoughts exactly (if a little crudely). To put the scene is context this gangster named Shank thinks he is going to be killed shortly and he wants to rob a white man before he dies:

"I'm riding a 90 bus into Adams Morgan. Alot of white people live around here. It's easier to rob a white mother-fucker up here than it is in Georgetown. Once you're in Georgetown it's hard to get the hell out of there [because there's no metro]. Your ass would have to run like fifteen blocks before you could get out. But in Adams Morgan you can slip around and run through these Hispanic areas until you get back to Fourteenth Street. Once you get back to Fourteenth Street you can chill. Cops ain't gon' chase you as much around the black neighborhoods."

So finally the last mural. I think it pretty much speaks for itself, the detail was incredible.

I will say this though, after some research I discovered that every December John Hopkins Children’s Center has a fundraiser called Night of the 1,000 Elvises. (Hence the Elvis in the upper left hand corner).

Disclaimer: When I was in India, a few of the girls kept blogs and I didn't think much of it because I was keeping a journal. But let me tell you, this blog buissness isn't Just Another Sunday Stroll if you know what I mean. I spent more than three hours on this post (and not only writing, but just uploading and moving the pictures!), so I hope you appreciate what I'm doing because I think these murals are really cool and I want them to get more exposure.