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Calming down I had rationalised how I was going to photograph the memorial at Park Heights and Woodland. Hop on the M-3 get down as close to the stop as possible make sure that I wouldn’t have to change film and walk until the first bus in any direction came. How bad could it be. I was not more than five blocks from where the Preakness would be run on Saturday.

The main reason for the outing though was to see my uncle.

30 minutes waiting for the bus and of course when it came it was the time when school was out so the bus was packed. Kept looking out the window looking for signs. Again it was sad as I used to bike up here to go to Luskin’s to drool over cameras. The area was populated which I saw as a good sign.

Got down at the corner that I wanted but so did another person, worse the light for the bus was red. I didn’t want to call attention to myself – yeah right when the area was pretty deserted – except for the bemused people on the east side of Park Heights wondering why this person was standing in the middle of the road – made two snaps and started walking.

Humanity steps in as buddy passing greets me, I return the greeting then after a couple of steps I return and ask about the memorial.

- Someone was killed.
His voice sounding as if it happens all the time.

As we talk I see the M-3 coming in the direction I want to go and I hop on.

Again I am puzzled about Charm City. Leaving Mondawmin I see that a Target is being built. I realise that there is a small of oasis of safety here but I cannot imagine that there are enough people around here that would risk Mondawmin to shop at Target. Due to the bus terminal there are always quite a few people but the area was teetering no one sure what way it would go. Maybe this is Balamer’s attempt to gentrify and area away from the Harbour.

Rang the bell, no ding dong ditch this time. The old rules applied people were at home unless they weren’t. i remember talking to an MFA candidate from Britain back in the 90’s saying how strange the world was now. He brought it to my attention that when he (and I) were in Britain one would call around to people’s homes. He noticed a change when he was in the States, that one had to ring first. The line usually when “stop by but call first”. Now it seems that one has to make an appointment to stop by. I realise it even more when on the rock when one simply walks in and one puts the kettle on.

Find it strange when I visit my uncle, as he seems non-plussed with my wanderings. This is a man who has lived in Paris, Accra, Monrovia, Bosnia, Havana, El Salvador, Nigeria, Kazakhstan, Haiti, Venezuela that I can remember. I am a piker when it comes to wandering. Always wondered who at the State Department his pissed off as he was always sent to dangerous areas around the world. I guess I can blame my genes for the lust for wanders ™ - although I would never work for the government to feed my habit.

Talked about Baltimore, he always wants to know how I made it to his place – before the move to Pikesville I would walk – felt that I let him down by taking buses. Talked about when the family lived all within a mile of each other. The vacant housing in Upton, the three houses that separated the Clark(e)s and the Davises in Druid Hill Avenue. Now was thinking about a personal history wander ™ from Mondawmin past Nana’s and on to Grandma’s – here I think I would leave Joãozão and wander with the leiquinhas only. Again, I rationalise, I can follow bus route, make the Upton Metro Station as a safe zone where I can gather my wits and determine whether I should continue.

There was enough time that I could get over my social ineptness, the below the mason-dixon line etiquette of offering a soda was made, I asked about Cuba he asked about my tripinhas. Someone else came to look in on him and I headed out but not before I admonished him for not wearing his guayabera.

Continuing in the great bus journeys of Orioleland I took the M-1 thinking that it would take me to the transfer point with the M-3 – I mistakenly thought that the “M” stood for Metro links - again wondered about the areas I was riding through, wanted to take more buses until I was let out in the middle of nowhere –where of course I found a potential photograph, asked the bus driver he pointed to another bus stop to wait for an M-8 so that I could wait for an M-3.