Fifth chapter

To sleep under a bike in Albuquerque

"Kathy", I said,

As we boarded a Greyhound in Pittsburgh,

Michigan seems like a dream to me now.

It took me four days

To hitch hike from Saginaw.

"I've come to look for America."

Paul Simon

Behind me on the bus to Amarillo, where I will switch to another bus to move on to Albuquerque, two men in their 40’s discuss their drug deals, arms trafficking and life in prison. I have been warned that many criminals go by Greyhound and I have previously noted fellow travelers with prison tattoos.

I think the criminal fellow travelers are the minor problem with Greyhound. When we arrive at Amarillo an hour late in the middle of the night, the bus to Albuquerque would already have left according to the timetable, but there is no information available. There are a lot of travelers at the bus station, but nobody is told anything about anything. Those who try to ask in the ticket desk are just told to sit down and be quiet. It feels like when I was in Moscow in 1975.

Strangely enough, here is a restaurant that is open in the middle of the night, but it looks so bad that I'm rather hungry than testing it. It is also reminiscent of Moscow 1975.

After waiting an hour, an employee of Greyhound shows up in the ticket booth and shouts out some instructions straight into the glass wall. Nobody seems to really hear what he's screaming, but we assume it's time to go out to a bus. That's how it is. I'm fast on the bus, as I've checked it goes to Albuquerque. It's quite crowded on the bus. Fortunately, I find a seat at a window near the back of the bus near the toilet and hope nobody will sit next to me to sleep and sleep for a few hours.

Instead, a really fat man comes and sits down on the outer side. I panic and ask if we cannot change seats. I truthfully refer to the fact that due to blood circulation problems in a leg, I need to move now and then. He regrets, but due to his big body he cannot get into the window seat.

To keep the panic away, I start talking to the big man named Martin. I wonder if Albuquerque is where his journey ends. Yes and no. He will stay there one day to rest and then move on to Las Vegas to play at any of the casinos there. I tell him I'm going to Las Vegas and rest in a few days, but definitely not gamble. It does not bother me, I've never understood the thrill of gambling with money or money's worth and asks Martin what is the excitement.

The excitement is the opportunity to get a little richer than you can through your job, he says. You've probably never been poor, he thinks, and he's right. I tell him about people in my part of Sweden. They want something safe and concrete for their money, even though they really can afford to waste and gamble a little. He takes the point and claims to have got a mindset. He tells me he has saved $ 2,000, hoping to be at least twice, preferably five-fold, before leaving Las Vegas.

The subject of gambling seems exhausted. I'm thinking of a new topic to keep up the conversation. Actually, I want to ask about his obesity, but cannot get any tactical way to get it. It turns out I do not need to. Martin asks if I understand how disabled is being so big and heavy.

I say I do not think anyone really can imagine another person’s problems, but it is clear that Martin is limited by his weight. He tells me that he's very keen to get rid of his food addiction, that it's a similar problem as abusing tobacco, alcohol or drugs. Almost all time awake he thinks of the next meal. He has tested all possible methods of getting out of addiction, but in vain.

Now he has decided that he wants to do an operation that shrinks his stomach so that it becomes impossible to eat too much. The problem is that he has understood that such an operation costs over 10,000 dollars and he will never be able to save that much money. Over the past two years, he has managed to save the money he will now try to multiply in Las Vegas.

I ask Martin what he would do if he instead loses the money he has saved.

His voice is trembling when he tells me that in that case he shoots his head off.

Oh, there are no options?

What would you do yourself, Martin is asking.

I tell him that it is not applicable to me, partly because I'm not overweight and partly because in Sweden healthcare is almost free. Martin immediately gets the idea of ​​using his money to go to Sweden and have his surgery there. Now I have to disappoint him by explaining that it only applies to those living in Sweden. Then Martin is looking forward to moving to Sweden.

The hours remaining to Albuquerque can I dedicate myself to telling him all about living in Sweden. Martin asks if we can become friends on facebook so that he can contact me if he decides to try to move. Obvious!

We say good bye at the beautiful combined bus and railway station in Albuquerque quite early in the morning. I urge Martin to contact me before doing anything stupid. He promises to do so.

Although my host lives close the Greyhound station and has offered me to check in already in the morning, I do not want to go there and wake him up. Instead, I leave my suitcase at Greyhound's desk for eight dollars and walk the empty streets this Sunday morning. I want to get a feeling for the city that is the largest in New Mexico, but not the capital. It is the much smaller town of Santa Fe, about 30 miles away.

Albuquerque does not seem to be a big city. If I had not known that it has over half a million inhabitants, I would have guessed 100,000.  

Something that makes the city pleasant is the wall paintings on the buildings in the city center. I'm looking for something that makes the city feel Mexican and when I go right far west, I come to the old town that feels quite Mexican, but also more touristy.

As I walk east along Central Avenue, I come to university and the large campus area, where I am sitting down at Einstein Café, drinking coffee and eating a bagel with cream cheese. I would like that even Swedish students could have Einstein as a model. Or maybe they have? What do I know.

Back in the city center I look up my host, who is extremely friendly. The presidential election is two days after and I ask him if he knows where the democratic party members are waiting for the result. He tells me that it is at a hotel in the center, but points out that if I'm interested, it would certainly be much appreciated if I set up as a volunteer the last days before the election. He believes that everything possible must be done to prevent Donald Trump from being elected president.

New Mexico is a pretty safe democratic victory, but during my trip I have met many people who have said they do not intend to vote, as both candidates are so bad. This means that the election can go any way. In any case, I decide to look up the Democratic Party's campaign headquarters to offer my services. I realize that I'm not part of American politics, but I may be able to carry heavy things or drive a car with election materials to help the United States not get a racist and man who hates women as president.

The morning after I take a long walk to the Democratic Party's campaign headquarters very near the airport. I receive a warm welcome and the campaign general suggests that I sit down and call people on the phone to persuade them to vote for Hillary Clinton. The noise level in the phone room is high and I hesitate. Will I hear what people say on the phone? In addition, I'm afraid that even local calls within Albuquerque can be expensive when I call via my Swedish operator.

Then a new assignment appears. A woman on her way to a suburb to knock the doors needs an assistant or companion or bodyguard. I immediately say yes and am presented it to Megan, who lives in the mountains a bit outside the city. She will knock the doors in a her neighborhood. We are provided with lists on streets and street names. We also have various flyers for Hillary Clinton and for local Democrats who hopefully will be elected Judges and Chairman of the Albuquerque School Board.

During the 20 minutes it takes to drive to the right suburb, we realize that we are both recently retired an still curious of our new lives. Both of us are looking for a good way to live our lives without working. Megan has been a teacher almost all of her adult life and has now invested heavily in social activities as well as living a green life. Among other things, she has put solar cells all over her roof to cope with the warming they have in the winter months when she cannot chop wood anymore.

Soon we are in the suburb, which radiates middle class. We start to knock the doors, but there are few that open. Most of the people living here are probably at work. However, there are dogs at home in almost every house. Where no two-legged are at home, we put the flyers under the door handle.

Most of the few that open say they have already voted for Hillary. Some say they do not have time to vote. One, a young woman, says the whole family has already voted for Donald Trump because he is not a politician.

Megan says that although she herself is completely opposed to what Trump stands for, she thinks it's good that the family has voted. Low voting is really a threat to democracy, just like Trump. Because of the strange American voting system the one who receives the most votes might not be the president.

After a couple of hours we start to get hungry, but in this suburb there is not even a hamburger joint. It is really the sleeping area! We decide to knock on and try to forget the hunger. To get the best result, we concentrate on the houses, where there are two cars outside the garage. There is likely someone at home.

Nevertheless, many people are not at home and we can talk a lot to each other about life as an old person. We agree that it is meaningless to try to pile up money because we will not have any use of them in our coffins. Megan says that because she has neither children nor grandchildren, she wants to do something for all children in New Mexico.

If you would do something for yourself, what would it be?

Megan says she wants that at least someone has a bright memory of her 25 years after her death.

When it begins to darken we go back into the city center and she lets me off one block from my air bnb.

Tonight I will go to a bar that my host has recommended. The first person I meet is the first Swedish on the whole trip. He is a very thin man named Owe and is also over 70 years old. He is out on a bike ride across the United States. He started in New York and the goal is San Francisco. Right now, he follows Route 66, passing through Albuquerque.

Owe has been on his way through the United States far longer than me and he lives far more primitive. In order to afford to be away for so long and to have money for a beer in the evening, he lives very economical. He spend his nights in a sleeping bag under his bike. He has a small tarpaulin as he crosses the bike and himself to get a hint of private sphere. Once a week he takes into a cheap motel to shower and rest.

I wonder if he does not think it's inconvenient to live like that at our age and tell him that I usually stay in an Air bnb. Before I was affected by my prostate problems, I had also thought of biking from Nashville to Memphis and New Orleans. Now my doctor has told me to stay away from bikes.

Owe thinks that we can get used to everything. And he does not feel the least old. He has spent a lot of money on a good bike and travels between 60 and 120 miles each day. His fitness is like a 40-year-old, a doctor has told him. The fastest road is nothing for Owe. His goal is to see as much as possible, so he bikes here and there.

As he bikes, he feels like all the worries are blown away. He sold everything he owned and went out into the world when he retired. Because he has not had any family since his parents died 40 years ago there is nothing that attracts him back home in Sweden. He has no plans to live any other life than that on the roads. Once he has biked through the United States, his plan is to follow the west coast of Central and South America down to Patagonia.

He says he does not meet so many people because he is shy. There are exceptions. Owe tells us that he lived two weeks with a woman who fell a little in love with him, but then he began to feel trapped. Once in Nashville, he had lunch with a nice woman who then gave him a ticket to her concert that evening. Her name was Emmylou Harris. Owe had no idea how famous she was until he came to the Ryman auditorium. A few days in Texas he was accompanied by a cowboy and riding to inspect a buffalo herd.

Owe is completely unsentimental when it comes to his own person. He obviously thought of the idea that another healthy old man could suddenly get sick. Then he plans to lay down under a tree and await his last breath.

He takes one day at a time.

I invite Owe to an extra beer when I am craving for a beer without thinking of my urine control. It is punishing quickly. I feel I have to hurry the few blocks back to my rental room and the bathroom where I have my catheters.

Owe stays in the bar. Outside, I see his bike leaning against a tree. His belongings are in black plastic bags in a bicycle rack. I hope nobody will steal any of the bags, but Owe knows what he's doing.

When I'm on my way home, I'm not asking Owe for facebook. I do not think he has a smart phone and even less a computer.

Early next morning, I'm back at Hillary's campaign headquarters. Megan does not come today because she will prepare a party in the suburbs where she lives tonight. Instead, I get company with Natalie. She seems to be round 50 years old, but surprised me by telling me she's 69. A carefully thought out diet, a lot of exercise and a good hairdresser who color her hair is her secret.

Today we will knock the door in a little simpler suburb closer to the center. The middle class also lives here, but the villas are smaller and older than we were yesterday.

Natalie feels at home here. She does not live so far away and she is glad we got this area and not a more Mexican area. She says her Spanish is too bad to discuss politics.

More open their door than in the area, where we knocked on the doors yesterday. Many of those we meet say they do not want to vote. Today we do not meet anyone who acknowledges that they have voted or will vote for Trump.

While we call the doors that nobody opens, we have plenty of time to ask each other about our lives.

Natalie talks openly about her problems. She has had difficulty in sticking to close relationships. Her own theory is that she attracts the wrong kind of men, because she is too beautiful. The men interested in her looks instead of the person Natalie. Over the years, she has lived in many different places around the United States, but soon got tired of men and jobs and moved on. She has not been able to save any money for her old age. So she continues to work as a nurse for as long as she can. She wonders a lot about what she wants to do with the free time she already has and even more on what to do when she can not work anymore. Already now she is doing social work in her spare time and she will probably continue.

If Donald Trump will win the election tonight, she also wants to fight and fight against everything he does. Her goal is getting him impeached. She is absolutely convinced that he will do something that motivates impeachment.

She is however convinced that Trump will lose. This morning she talked a long time to God and told him or her what a bad person Trump is and what he is likely to do, that will hit the most vulnerable people hardest.

I think she is brave who puts her faith in such a hard trial. There are so many who have said that they will not vote, so regardless of Natalie's conversation with God, there is a risk that the United States can have a racist, women's perpetrator and climate denier as president. Personally, I would see a victory for Trump as proof that there is no god, at least no almighty god.

She asks if I have children and grandchildren. That's what she has missed most in life and now it's too late to fix it, but she tries to compensate it by working as a volunteer with children in vulnerable families.

Natalie is not going to go to the evening party in the hotel where I m going. I do not really understand why. She is not on facebook either, so we say good bye, probably forever, once we have distributed all flyers. In a few days it will turn out she has joined Facebook and we quickly become friends there too.

At 7 PM I find myself in the central hotel where we are gong to party and follow the election results. There is a bar outside the large conference hall where democrats gather. I buy a glass of red wine, but there is not even a bag of peanuts to calm down the worst hunger. I thought it would be served some good Mexican food like they did at the campaign office, but no, there is only liquid nutrition.

I meet with Ole, a retired lawyer, with Norwegian roots. He claims that Donald Trump is crazier than the worst criminals Ole has defended over the years. It turns out he is considering moving to Canada, if Trump wins the election. Sometimes he gets the idea to move back to Norway, where his parents were born. He asks if I know something about the politics in Norway.

Ole gets very disappointed when I tell the far right National Progress Party is a part of the Norwegian government. He did not know that. Then it may be Canada if Trump wins, which suddenly starts to seem likely.

There are some people gathering around Ole and me. Everyone is quiet and disappointed. They wonder if we will give up and go home. I think the results are still so even that we should stay for a while.

Then my cell phone rings. It's an old friend from the time when I went to the journalist school. He has seen at Facebook that I'm here and wants to know more about how the mood is.

I go away to the next room and tell him. After 15 minutes of talking, I go back to the congress hall. Then it turns out that more than half of the Democrats have already given up and gone home. At least the atmosphere is gloomy. I look at CNN's reports and realize that all hope is likely gone for Hillary Clinton.

When I walk home, I have to go through a tunnel where youngsters usually hang. I walk past two guys sitting on the asphalt and helping each other to inject a drug. I feel sorry for them, but realize that they are happily unaware of the result in the election and what awaits them and any other poor people who will get Donald Trump as president.

My host is watching TV in the living room when I'm back and I sit down down and talk to him briefly about what has happened. Then I want to try to fall asleep and forget all about this election.

After having managed to empty eight deciliters out of the bladder, I try to sleep, but it does not work. With Donald Trump, I feel like we were moving back to the 1930s, a time journey I could really have been without.

During the evening something annoying has happened. When I try to take pictures my smart phone says it's full. Even though I throw away some old pictures, the camera continues to pretend it's full.

I spend half the night trying to fix the camera without being able to solve the problem. It is nevertheless a worldly thing compared with the choice of Trump.

From Kurt Andersson’s Facebook  

Megan Reeves, Albuquerque

Hi Kurt! What did you do after the night of the election? I would understand if you left the United States and headed home to Sweden to get as far away from Donald Trump as possible.

I wish I could come to your country too – at least the next four years. Do you need teachers in Sweden?

Mary Jackson, Dallas

Peoples of the world! Can you forgive the people of the United States for electing Donald Trump as our new president? Maybe you shouldn’t! A people voting for such an idiot does not deserve forgiveness.

Mia Turner, New Orleans

Kurt! We are all in chock after the election. What have we done to deserve Donald Trump as our leader? I read that you were canvassing for Hillary in Albuquerque and that she won in New Mexico. The Democrats would have needed you in more states.

Tina says hello to you too.

Sonny Smith, Memphis

Today I have written a new song, that I called “Just like Donald Trump’s Blues”. It is about the people of the United Stated digging their own graves. Tom and Jerry have helped me with the music and we plan to write more songs about a country that is given away to the Russians, about a country that is turning time back at least 100 years and about black people voting for a white racist as their president. Maybe we could make a record about living in Trump-land.

Gisela Wagner, Berlin

Heute bin ich wieder in Berlin. Verweht gutes, zuhause am besten. Es ist verrückt was in USA passiert ist. Ich fahre nicht zurück weil Donald Trump Präsident ist.

Facts about Albuquerque

• Albuquerque is located in the state of New Mexico. It is the largest cityin the state, but the capital is called Santa Fe.

• Albuquerque had 556,495 inhabitants in 2013.

• The University of New Mexico has 27,000 students.

• The critically acclaimed TV series Breaking Bad is taking place in Albuquerque, depicting the chemist Walter White, who, when he becomes cancer, is turning to drug production.

• Key industries in Albuquerque manufacture solar cells, parts for air and spacecraft, nanotechnology and semiconductors.

Read more at www.albuquerque.com

Mural painting in Albuquerque