When I first saw the ocean out here, I thought it looked like a prime surfing spot, but then, I am not a surfer, so I wouldn't really know. Of course, there are also warning signs all around the beach, indicating possible death due to undertow. But it turns out that for a couple of months out of the year, though, there is a big surfing competition, where surfers come to the city and get jobs or whatever, but when someone calls and says the surf is good, they drop everything and get on the wetsuit. That's what I hear.
A couple of days ago, when it was storming, the surf was incredible. The ocean was this dark, milky, jade green against the purple-grey clouds, and the waves were frothing and crashing probably a hundred yards out. Definitely something you do not want to jump into, unless you are a fish. Probably not even then.
But today, the sea was much calmer. Still several notches more active than the beaches in Massachusetts, but compared to two days ago, positively placid.
So I had seen surfers on the beach before, but they only teased me. I saw them running with their boards, or standing and looking at the waves. I was hoping to see someone get into the surf, but no luck.
Today, they were out in force, though. As I rode my bike up the shore path just after 5 o'clock, I kept passing guys in wetsuits or carrying boards. As I went further north, toward the big open spot, I saw more and more. Finally, when I went to cross the street to the ocean side, I looked out and there were bunches of them, bobbing out in the water, like oddly shaped sea birds. Seeing them all out there was like seeing how the worms come out after in rains. They were everywhere.
So I stood and watched for a while, hoping to see someone get on a wave.
Mostly they just hung out in the water, though. I guess it's not exactly what you expect to see when you think of California surfers. There were no oiled bodies and spandex gliding across tunnel-shaped waves. In fact, it looked to me like surfing is a sport that involves a lot of waiting; treading water in anticipation of that perfect wave. I can see the appeal, though. Because it is clearly a very elemental sport. It is the archetypal struggle between human and nature. One guy was stretching and flexing before picking up his board and charging out into the waves. And as he did, I pictured the way his joints and muscles were working, getting ready to do this very specific thing.
But I watched, and eventually, I saw one. He stood up on his board, and there he was, riding the wave. It was actually very exciting. I wanted to clap and cheer. Seriously. It made my day. But I restrained myself so that I wouldn't look too weird.
And as I rode the cruiser back home, I thought about why it is that surfing is so exciting. And I thought, not only is it elemental, but it has to do with control, but the kind of control that comes from not trying to control the wave. Because you can't control the wave. But you can control what you do on it. And not only that, it puts the surfer in an entirely liminal space, where the ocean meets the sand. So they are playing with what it takes to maintain balance in an otherwise chaotic, violent meeting of two diametrically opposed states of being. And ultimately that is what we all try to do with our lives. Wait for the wave, and when it comes, ride it, try not to get knocked off, try to maintain balance, and survive.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Sunday, February 24, 2008
gung hay fat choy
I forgot to bring my camera when I went to the Chinese New Year parade. But that's probably okay. It was raining, and some of the dragons had plastic over their heads to protect them. It was really cute to see the little kids in the mini-dragons, some of them just holding onto the tail, with their little dragon pants on, looking slightly bewildered.
My friend and I got pelted with candy, waved at by various city officials, and Mayor Gavin Newsom came by and shook our hands. He was wearing a black velvet jacket-type thing that was kind of gathered in the front and had velvet buttons. It looked sort of retro. and he had a scarf loosely wrapped around his neck. Seriously, no Boston politician would ever dare to even consider the mild thought of even potentially thinking of wondering if they could ever possibly actually wear something like that, especially in public, never mind a parade because they just couldn't get away with it. But oh yeah, we're not in Boston anymore, Toto.
And they were filming part of the parade up in Union Square, so the whole thing was stopped for about 20 minutes. We got to examine in detail some marchers waving huge flags that flopped in the wet pavement and occasionally got wrapped around their ankles. Further down, there was a group of about 80 kids in yellow, twirling big knives. Right in front of us, though, there was a huge, green and red dragon that looped and danced around itself. It was fascinating to watch. But the most fascinating part was watching the dancers. There was a guy with a shaved head, dressed in all black, directing everyone. He would tell the leader of the dragon where to go, and then someone would crouch in the middle of the street so that all the dancers behind would know where to turn. On the sidelines, there was another whole group of dancers, and periodically, the guy in black would tell one of them to jump in, and they would go and relieve one of the dancers. It looked like a very demanding and energetic job, dragon dancing. And clearly it is something that one person cannot do alone. It also looked like and exercise, for the dancers, in anonymity, in the sense of giving up your ego for the sake of the larger whole. I could be reading more into it than is really there, but that's what I see. Because it seems to me that in western culture, we grow up with this bizarre idea that somehow we are special and more important and that we need to be recognized for what we do that is more special and more important than what other people do. Maybe not everyone thinks this, but the idea is out there. But in fact, what we do is really only important so long as it contributes to something larger. I think it can be really fun to let your ego go for a while. Egos are really so cumbersome anyway.
My friend and I got pelted with candy, waved at by various city officials, and Mayor Gavin Newsom came by and shook our hands. He was wearing a black velvet jacket-type thing that was kind of gathered in the front and had velvet buttons. It looked sort of retro. and he had a scarf loosely wrapped around his neck. Seriously, no Boston politician would ever dare to even consider the mild thought of even potentially thinking of wondering if they could ever possibly actually wear something like that, especially in public, never mind a parade because they just couldn't get away with it. But oh yeah, we're not in Boston anymore, Toto.
And they were filming part of the parade up in Union Square, so the whole thing was stopped for about 20 minutes. We got to examine in detail some marchers waving huge flags that flopped in the wet pavement and occasionally got wrapped around their ankles. Further down, there was a group of about 80 kids in yellow, twirling big knives. Right in front of us, though, there was a huge, green and red dragon that looped and danced around itself. It was fascinating to watch. But the most fascinating part was watching the dancers. There was a guy with a shaved head, dressed in all black, directing everyone. He would tell the leader of the dragon where to go, and then someone would crouch in the middle of the street so that all the dancers behind would know where to turn. On the sidelines, there was another whole group of dancers, and periodically, the guy in black would tell one of them to jump in, and they would go and relieve one of the dancers. It looked like a very demanding and energetic job, dragon dancing. And clearly it is something that one person cannot do alone. It also looked like and exercise, for the dancers, in anonymity, in the sense of giving up your ego for the sake of the larger whole. I could be reading more into it than is really there, but that's what I see. Because it seems to me that in western culture, we grow up with this bizarre idea that somehow we are special and more important and that we need to be recognized for what we do that is more special and more important than what other people do. Maybe not everyone thinks this, but the idea is out there. But in fact, what we do is really only important so long as it contributes to something larger. I think it can be really fun to let your ego go for a while. Egos are really so cumbersome anyway.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Ocean view
So the new place I am staying in has a beautiful view of the ocean from the kitchen window. I said hello to it this morning when I took a walk down there and observed some Chinese fishermen. I was wondering what kind of fish would be out there in that kind of surf, but maybe something. And I watched little troops of snowy plovers playing with the surf. They would all go down in a bunch to just where the foam was hitting the sand, and then run back up as the water chased them. They couldn’t have been doing it for food, because even if they were looking for it, they obviously weren’t going to be eating when the water was chasing them, and there was plenty of space for them to graze without encountering incoming waves. So they must have been doing it just for fun. And it was funny to watch them on their little legs. It was a pretty good day today all together. I got my laundry done, for one thing. You have no idea what a luxury it is to hang your shirts until you have gone without it for a month.
Monday, February 4, 2008
Outer Sunset
So I am officially still couch-surfing. Not in the online sense, but with real people - as in people that I’ve met before who I feel I can trust. It’s a good thing. Not as good as having an apartment, but still good. I am now camping out in the Outer Sunset, staying with Char and Russ and their cat. Outer Sunset. I like that as a place name. There is also Inner Sunset, of course. And the area refers to the part of San Francisco that faces the Sunset - where I took my long walk to the Pacific and put my toes finally in the water. I will have to go back there again. But it makes the sunset sound like an object, like a peach, or a person, or a building. The Inner and the Outer. What’s inside the sunset anyway? What if you could open it and find the strings that hold it together and the little machines that make the color? Yes, I am getting very tired. I am making up my own fantastical bedtime stories as my mind gradually wanders in and out of a partial dream state. But I just wanted to write something before I go to bed. Good night.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Poochies
So I am now getting the Oakland/Berkeley experience. It is quite interesting. Yesterday, I missed the turn driving back to my friend's house. And on my way back to her neighbor hood, I passed a car that was colorfully painted, and it was being driven rather slowly, probably because of the mannequin legs attached to the roof. Head-on, the legs just looked random, but as the car passed perpendicular to me in my rearview mirror, I could see clearly that they were set in a highly suggestive position. There were heels on one pair, and the guy's legs were, I think, green. Anyway, so that's probably average for around here. Nothing special.
Also, I must generally observe that I have never seen so many clothed canines as I have in the San Francisco/Bay Area. Dog sweaters and jackets are really a big thing out here. Not so much the larger dogs, I guess, but it seems like every other small dog is somehow dressed in one way or another. As if they owners need to shield them from the harsh 40-degree weather or they might die. Which is funny to me, coming from Boston, where you almost never see a dog wearing anything other than a collar on a leash. But it's probably more of a fashion statement than anything else, I am guessing. Because the type of thing you put on your dog shows something about who you are. Or like the little dog my friend and I passed on the street last night, wearing not only a pink jacket, but silver booties on all fours. But it's Berkeley. A little bit like Harvard Square. You see it and you just keep going. Nothing special.
Also, I must generally observe that I have never seen so many clothed canines as I have in the San Francisco/Bay Area. Dog sweaters and jackets are really a big thing out here. Not so much the larger dogs, I guess, but it seems like every other small dog is somehow dressed in one way or another. As if they owners need to shield them from the harsh 40-degree weather or they might die. Which is funny to me, coming from Boston, where you almost never see a dog wearing anything other than a collar on a leash. But it's probably more of a fashion statement than anything else, I am guessing. Because the type of thing you put on your dog shows something about who you are. Or like the little dog my friend and I passed on the street last night, wearing not only a pink jacket, but silver booties on all fours. But it's Berkeley. A little bit like Harvard Square. You see it and you just keep going. Nothing special.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Bike Ride
I went for an awesome ride in the Golden Gate Park yesterday. Check out this tree!
I'm still trying to figure out what it is. Will update as soon as I know... But there were loads of them. And at one place, there is a row of them where they are all sort of bent and curved in the same direction, like someone just grabbed the tops of them all together and shifted them over while the roots stayed in place, and then, since the trunks were made of clay, fired them all in a gigantic kiln.
So Joel toured me around the park, and then we got coffee at a café right where I first found the beach on my last trip here. Apparently it is a great neighborhood hang-out - especially being that there are not a lot of neighborhood hang-outs in that particular area (the Sunset - so named, I suppose, because it faces the sunset). They have good bagels and good hummus.
Just as a little aside/tangent, I have to remember to accept help still, sometimes. It's so easy to just try to do everything or to want to refuse when people are being generous. But people are being so generous, I almost can't believe it. But I am so grateful, really. The kindness of strangers, as it were.
So, back to the bike ride. We took a bus up to a nice look-out spot, where I did a touristy, photo-taking thing.
But I guess I can allow myself to be a little touristy sometimes, just to get to know the place, I think. Although I have an aversion to being a tourist, which stems from my years in Kennebunk, where every year around April or May, a dusting of dread settled on all year-round residents, and in it was written "here come the tourists." but I didn't feel like a tourist. And anyway, Joel was filling me in on various elements of San Francisco history, such as the fact that all of the Golden Gate Park and the western neighborhoods were once sand dunes. Hard to imagine, but true.
And after I took the picture of the city, we went down a spiral ramp for pedestrians, and let me tell you, it was fun. I mean, hell's yes, fun. It was like little-kid-on-a-slide-I-want-to-do-it-again fun. You can have your video games.
So that was about it. We wound our way home through nice neighborhoods, picked up laundry, and went home.
It was a very good day.
I'm still trying to figure out what it is. Will update as soon as I know... But there were loads of them. And at one place, there is a row of them where they are all sort of bent and curved in the same direction, like someone just grabbed the tops of them all together and shifted them over while the roots stayed in place, and then, since the trunks were made of clay, fired them all in a gigantic kiln.
So Joel toured me around the park, and then we got coffee at a café right where I first found the beach on my last trip here. Apparently it is a great neighborhood hang-out - especially being that there are not a lot of neighborhood hang-outs in that particular area (the Sunset - so named, I suppose, because it faces the sunset). They have good bagels and good hummus.
Just as a little aside/tangent, I have to remember to accept help still, sometimes. It's so easy to just try to do everything or to want to refuse when people are being generous. But people are being so generous, I almost can't believe it. But I am so grateful, really. The kindness of strangers, as it were.
So, back to the bike ride. We took a bus up to a nice look-out spot, where I did a touristy, photo-taking thing.
But I guess I can allow myself to be a little touristy sometimes, just to get to know the place, I think. Although I have an aversion to being a tourist, which stems from my years in Kennebunk, where every year around April or May, a dusting of dread settled on all year-round residents, and in it was written "here come the tourists." but I didn't feel like a tourist. And anyway, Joel was filling me in on various elements of San Francisco history, such as the fact that all of the Golden Gate Park and the western neighborhoods were once sand dunes. Hard to imagine, but true.
And after I took the picture of the city, we went down a spiral ramp for pedestrians, and let me tell you, it was fun. I mean, hell's yes, fun. It was like little-kid-on-a-slide-I-want-to-do-it-again fun. You can have your video games.
So that was about it. We wound our way home through nice neighborhoods, picked up laundry, and went home.
It was a very good day.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
In Dreams
I am now dreaming in hills. It's like dreaming in a different language. You know, I wake up with the sense of hills going up and down under my feet and cable cars and buses and buildings. It is all new and I am just learning how to speak the topographical existence. And I know this is obvious, but maybe the most fascinating part is that the hills don't change. Not that they should. The hills were here first, and then there was a city. You yourself, as an unfettered human being, are a little more unsteady on a hill, but the fact is, the hill ain't going nowhere. And so you go back to find the same thing on the same hill every time. Incredible. I don't know why I am so taken by this. Maybe it's because people aren't like that. The topography of a person can change so that you have to learn your way around all over again, just when you thought you knew where you were going. Or maybe that's just certain people. I don't know.
Saturday, January 5, 2008
Couch Surfing
Couch surfing is great! Well, I haven't been on a couch yet, but I signed up yesterday, and I am going to have my first experience on Monday. Hostels are nice, but it will be nice to be in a real house for a change...
Transportation
I guess when you are a single female, lugging around a massive suitcase, people are inclined to be helpful. First there was the guy who carried my 62.5 lb suitcase up all the 150-plus steps at Porter Square T stop, since the escalators -- ALL OF THEM -- were broken. I told him he didn't have to, but he insisted. Then the next morning, a taxi driver took pity on me and didn't charge me for my ride around the corner to the T stop. The train was also free on New Year’s Eve, which had nothing to do with me, but I just see all these as positive signs contributing to, “Yes, you should go to San Francisco - NOW,” says God. Right.
So, for all of you who are going to visit me here some day, I recommend JetBlue, if you can get it. On my last flight, I took AirTran, and they were not nearly as nice. The seats were uncomfortable and the cabin was freezing. Plus, I had to change planes in Atlanta. JetBlue is friendly, comfortable, has better snacks, AND they are inexpensive. It’s a good deal. They should pay me for saying that. They didn't, though.
Not only that, I had awesome seat neighbors on the plane. Not that I can guarantee the same for you, but you never know. We got into a deep discussion about social ills and mental health. It was great. And I got a bit of reading done as well.
Getting from the plane to the hostel was a small adventure, though. First, I got lost on my way to the baggage claim because it was really far off from the terminal and in a basement and really badly marked. And then I had trouble finding the right place for the Door-to-Door van service, which was also badly marked, plus the guy who gave me weird directions. When I finally got there, I was referred to the first van that I saw. But then it was just me in this gritty vehicle that reeked of stale cigarettes and a driver who didn’t understand English and he couldn’t find where I was going on his GPS device. When we finally took off, the guy drove like he was sitting on a pile of fire ants. I felt like my life was in danger and I held on to the seat for dear life, looking for any way out. I thought I was stuck there, but then we passed another pick-up spot before leaving the airport, and I told the guy to stop and let me out, because I saw a van for a different company that I wanted to take. I think he was all too happy to oblige, because he seemed stressed out by having to speak English and not knowing where the Hell he was going.
I liked my second driver a lot. His name was Mustafa and he appeared to be of Latino descent, possibly Mexican. He was probably a little older than my parents, with a full head of thick, grey hair. We had a full van and I was the last drop-off, being the farthest away. He asked me where I was from and why I was here in SF. I was going to make something up, but then I decided to go with the truth. What did I have to hide? So I just told him I was here from Boston to look for jobs. He asked if I had just finished school. Yes, basically. OK, and what happened? Bad boyfriend? I hadn’t said anything about it. Funny you should ask… So I gave him a skeleton version of what happened, though I never mentioned the fact that we had been engaged. I didn’t even want to get into that. But at the same time, I made sure that he knew I had wanted to come to San Francisco anyway, and I probably would have done it even if Dan and I had stayed together, but now seemed like a pretty good opportunity to do what I had wanted to do for the last several years with nothing holding me back, really. Was he a jerk? He asked. Well, I wouldn’t say that… I didn’t want to say anything really bad about Dan. Why would I? He sounds like a jerk, he told me. And we talked about it a little bit more and he showed me pictures of his three-month-old grandchild, one of which was taped to the dashboard. I especially enjoyed the one of the little baby dressed up as a pea-pod for Halloween. When he dropped me off, he said, “I’d like to meet this guy of yours so I can kick his ass,” or something to that effect. That’s OK, I said, he’s the one who gets to be in the cold in Massachusetts. Then he gave me an extra discount, owing to the fact that I would need all the help I could get while I’m on my job search. No arguments there. I told him I’d wave if I saw him driving around town. So I have now made two new friends in San Francisco. I think I’m off to a pretty good start.
So, for all of you who are going to visit me here some day, I recommend JetBlue, if you can get it. On my last flight, I took AirTran, and they were not nearly as nice. The seats were uncomfortable and the cabin was freezing. Plus, I had to change planes in Atlanta. JetBlue is friendly, comfortable, has better snacks, AND they are inexpensive. It’s a good deal. They should pay me for saying that. They didn't, though.
Not only that, I had awesome seat neighbors on the plane. Not that I can guarantee the same for you, but you never know. We got into a deep discussion about social ills and mental health. It was great. And I got a bit of reading done as well.
Getting from the plane to the hostel was a small adventure, though. First, I got lost on my way to the baggage claim because it was really far off from the terminal and in a basement and really badly marked. And then I had trouble finding the right place for the Door-to-Door van service, which was also badly marked, plus the guy who gave me weird directions. When I finally got there, I was referred to the first van that I saw. But then it was just me in this gritty vehicle that reeked of stale cigarettes and a driver who didn’t understand English and he couldn’t find where I was going on his GPS device. When we finally took off, the guy drove like he was sitting on a pile of fire ants. I felt like my life was in danger and I held on to the seat for dear life, looking for any way out. I thought I was stuck there, but then we passed another pick-up spot before leaving the airport, and I told the guy to stop and let me out, because I saw a van for a different company that I wanted to take. I think he was all too happy to oblige, because he seemed stressed out by having to speak English and not knowing where the Hell he was going.
I liked my second driver a lot. His name was Mustafa and he appeared to be of Latino descent, possibly Mexican. He was probably a little older than my parents, with a full head of thick, grey hair. We had a full van and I was the last drop-off, being the farthest away. He asked me where I was from and why I was here in SF. I was going to make something up, but then I decided to go with the truth. What did I have to hide? So I just told him I was here from Boston to look for jobs. He asked if I had just finished school. Yes, basically. OK, and what happened? Bad boyfriend? I hadn’t said anything about it. Funny you should ask… So I gave him a skeleton version of what happened, though I never mentioned the fact that we had been engaged. I didn’t even want to get into that. But at the same time, I made sure that he knew I had wanted to come to San Francisco anyway, and I probably would have done it even if Dan and I had stayed together, but now seemed like a pretty good opportunity to do what I had wanted to do for the last several years with nothing holding me back, really. Was he a jerk? He asked. Well, I wouldn’t say that… I didn’t want to say anything really bad about Dan. Why would I? He sounds like a jerk, he told me. And we talked about it a little bit more and he showed me pictures of his three-month-old grandchild, one of which was taped to the dashboard. I especially enjoyed the one of the little baby dressed up as a pea-pod for Halloween. When he dropped me off, he said, “I’d like to meet this guy of yours so I can kick his ass,” or something to that effect. That’s OK, I said, he’s the one who gets to be in the cold in Massachusetts. Then he gave me an extra discount, owing to the fact that I would need all the help I could get while I’m on my job search. No arguments there. I told him I’d wave if I saw him driving around town. So I have now made two new friends in San Francisco. I think I’m off to a pretty good start.
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