baksheesh

Did I ever have a strange trip in to work this morning.

It started with hauling my rain-soaked (sorry!) bike out of the yard and making my way through puddly streets that were curiously lightly trafficked. As I rolled down a hill a fellow standing on the side of the street looked me in the eye and slowly waggled his finger at me. He kept doing it until I was almost upon him—then I realized that he was signalling the bus that was riding along behind me. Relieved, I headed for the right-turn lane (a rarity on Toronto streets) and a motorcyclist blasted by upheld left arm as I signalled my turn. But he wasn't turning, he was using the separate right turn lane to "beat" the traffic waiting at the light which he blasted right through.

I turned right onto Dundas street and rode without incident for fifteen minutes save for encountering not one but two of those dudes who won't be passed—guys who don't ride particularly quickly until you overtake them. They give me the willies.

At a portion of the street where a garbage truck had obviously made several sloppy spills of foul-smelling puke-like fluids, another fellow appeared at the side of the road. This one was clearly looking at me, bending low giving me a thumbs-up. "Baksheesh," he said to me.

What? Doesn't that mean - yup, he was looking for a hand-out. I left him standing in his truck-puke-strewn stretch of the street and carried on.

On Shuter I passed a third man, and Indian from the looks of him. But he was speaking loudly into a cell phone in German. Yes, an interesting morning in the city that continues to internationalize.