h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Daily Exercise

Off for my daily walk, I go up the long, straight road to reach the beachfront. The road is strewn with rubbisch; garbage bins are overturned and spill their foul smelling contents over the sidewalks. Filthy dogs roam the street. They walk indifferently around open sewage holes. Cars drive by noisily, avoiding the potholes and giving the impression of drunk driving. They honk their horns frequently. An old car with two huge loudspeakers tied to its roof passes slowly announcing over and over: “Vote for.... He is the best for the city!” This is supposed to make people want to give their votes to this candidate.

Three very young girls in tight little shorts walk in front of me swinging their behinds voluptiously. Their eyes dart at every passing car and they do not stop shrieking and laughing.

When I get to the top of the road, I have difficulty crossing the main road. Traffic is intense and only some cars obey the traffic lights. I take risks and reach the beach. There is little traffic here. A strong wind comes from in front of me and I breathe in deeply.

Many poeple walk along the beachfront at this hour in the late afternoon. Some couples sit in parked cars and neck. All the car radios are blaring as this is a nation of music- loving-people.

Five boys overtake me. Their ages range from about six to twelve. They are barefoot and their shirts and shorts are grey and shabby. They talk in loud voices to each other and their busy eyes see everything. They quickly look me up and down as they pass, their expressions totally detached. They pick up little stones and start throwing them at passing cars. Some cars slow down after being hit. The drivers lean out and scream angrily at the boys. Another small stone hits a car. It is a new car of a lovely shiny green. I hear the sharp crack of a shot and see a hand with a gun in it move quickly back into the car. They boys laugh excitedly and run in several directions. The car accelerates, passes me and disappears.

The boys get back together, heads turning around all the time now, alert. On the other side of the road a drunken man is walking slowly, counting some paper money in his hands. The boys drift over casually and circle him. The drunk stops and looks at the boys. The boys drift back to the other side in one well rehearsed movement and as casually as before. They continue ahead of me as if nothing has interrupted their progress so far. On the left there is a continuous line of concrete benches. People straddle them, sit and lie on them. Two boys jump up on the benches and walk on them, stepping behind and over the people. Some people yell obscenities at the boys. The boys laugh derisively in answer. One old man is still muttering in exasperation as I pass by him.

Some distance ahead of me a big car draws up to the curb. A young man jumps out. He takes a folding plastic table and two chairs from the back of the car and arranges them on the sidewalk. A girl gets out on the other side of the car and sits in one of the chairs. The young man puts drinks on the table, turns the volume of the radio up and sits down in the other chair. As I pass them, they are smiling happily at each other. Opposite, in front of some houses facing the sea, there is a sign saying: “Residential area, please do not play your car radios loudly here.”

A motorbike races towards me on the sidewalk and I quickly step down onto the road to avoid getting hit. I can hear some of the people complain about the driver being up here among the pedestrians and small children.

An empty garbage truck passes by. It is Friday today, pay day. The truck is loaded with some twenty men in orange shirts and trousers standing up on it. They shout and hoot shrilly in their unquenchable exuberance. Some loitering men on the sidewalk gesture wildly and shout back at the men on the truck. Everyone is laughing.

While I walk, I try to meditate. I make the huge effort of concentrating on the way the wind feels on my skin, on the sound of the ocean as the waves slam mightily against the recently built stretch of protection wall. I try to transport myeself onto the masses of water that lie agitated, now at high tide, beyond the sidewalk.

It is the hour of the spectacle of the setting sun. The sky to the west changes to pink and red and for a few minutes some white clouds in the east get tinged a beautiful pink. As I turn my head to look at the sky, I notice the boys are walking down a side street and I sigh with relief. The whole sky turns pink and the sea reflects the beauty of this incredible gift of nature.

Looks like you found youreslf in the "Modern World" The politically correct brigade have turned society on its head
You cant even say what you would like to these days, in case you upset some ethnic minority
They cant punish kids at school or at home, in case you break so called "human rights" Hence the kids dress and behave like that.
Its just a sad fact of life these days No one has respect for anyone or shows any consideration
I could go on, but whats the point, its too late now
Smudger,

Oh Dear, yes you said it: it is too late now. I ask myself where on earth will it all end, or I say frequently now: I am not of this earth any more, I am from another place. The man I live with is with the federal police and he cannot shoot at bandits, even when attacked, because if he hits the unfortunate no-good, the human rights people come down on him. Yes, here too! Where are our human rights, we, who are the good guys? Bye for now, it is very late. Thanks for looking in on me, I shall write more soon. F.