might have been any subway because there was nothing to see out of the windows. A couple of stations later Matthew announced that we were about to go underneath the bay, on the styalised map of the system in the train it didn't seem far but it took long enough and the train picked up a lot of speed as we went. For some reason there was a strong pressure build up and it seemed more as if we were going up rather quickly than going down underneath the bay. I suppose that the speed we built up in the tunnel had something to do with it but anyhow the sensation was rather unpleasant and I was glad when we pulled into the next station. BART hasn't been completed yet so, instead of riding straight through to Berkeley we had to change over to another line. By this time we had emerged from the, ground and were standing on a station up in the air in what appeared to be one of the industrial parts of the city. Everything was dry and hot and there wasn't too much to look at. Our new train came and took us once again underground. Even though the trains are run by computer there is a man up the front to make sure that nothing goes wrong and apart from that he also tells passengers over the pa system which station is next. He announced Berkeley and we had arrived. Getting out of a station is almost as much fun as getting in. 'Once more you stick your ticket into the gate and it inspects it. It looks at the name of the station you got on at and deducts the correct amount from the value of your ticket before it lets you leave the station. If you don't have enough money on your ticket I'm not quite sure what happens (since it didn't happen to us) but there were a different sort of ticket machine around called Adfare so I suppose you used one of them. The Berkeley station is a good one, from platform level there is a long escalator which carries you up through the dome in the roof to the street. So there we were at last in Berkeley, it looked just about like any other street but Matthew was taking us to Telegraph Avenue which was a short bus ride away. The attraction was the record shops which Matthew had made to seem like a gold mine, and he wasn't far wrong. I might have bought more records than I did but I would have had trouble carrying them all. And the prices were absolutely give away, a copy of Britten's "The Burning Firey Furnace" for about three dollars (which seemed a bit expensive where compared with the other prices we were paying) but it would have cost at least six dollars back in Melbourne so I payed over with a big smile on my face. We looked also through countless book shops and were endlessly tempted, but did not succumb, we didn't have arms enough. We spent the afternoon there and an exhausting afternoon it was. instead of catching the bus back to the station, we walked through the suburban streets with their little houses, it took longer but we saw what lies beyond Telegraph Avenue. The ride on BART back under the bay was just as exciting and just as unpleasant as before but there was a slight hitch as we waited for our transfer. The electronic sign indicated that the train was coming from the wrong direction but we supposed that the computer knew more about what it was doing than we did. The train arrived from the right direction though and we, along with everybody else or. the platform wondered what was happening. The train didn't Seem to know either, it wasn't sure whether to open its doors or not and in the end compromised by leaving them half open. It moved up a bit and back a bit before it came to a full stop. Everybody stood around wondering what was happening until a voice came over the pa system telling us to ignore the sign and get on if we wanted to go back to San Francisco. We did as suggested. The computer must have felt sick. Rut it got us there in the end. 74