Lands End, San Francisco

I'm sitting at the base of a Cyprus tree - low, with sprawling trunks or limbs coming out of the sandy dirt. I got here by walking down dirt-covered steps then stooping underneath the tree branches. Its pine needles frame the most spectacular view - blue water, the curves of the headlands, Golden Gate bridge, green and tan cliffs to each side. And the light.

The light. Right now it's beaming down from the sun, reflecting on the water and warming my face. But earlier it was a soft glow, teasing at the end of the dark path, illuminating the forest in magical yellow. Then there was the Cyrpus path, perfectly aligned with the sun so it came down in fierce streaks through the branches overhead. Big, dramatic sprays of sunlight that I usually don't believe are real. They were waiting to be discovered around every bend, alternating my steps with shade and light. They fed my soul. When I thought I couldn't take in any more beauty, there were the flowers, spring up on the sides of the forest trail. Pink, lilac, white, small, hanging, climbing - just a small dusting of one type after another. I'm lucky to be here with so little fog.

I first panicked when my camera died, then pressed on with the promise that I would return, then soon retracted my promise and told myself to experience it today, now, and that is enough. But I'm still writing.

Sounds - the ocean breathing below me, birds chattering all around, and the steady call of a foghorn. I read about the multitude of ships that have gone down at the entrance of the bay. What tragic sights these trees have witnessed.

And the water - like a field, stretching dense and massive to the left (ocean), in front of me (to the headlands), and to the right (under the bridge). A consistent navy, barely marked with ripples and, barely, a boat. But the water below me turns, churns, and rolls with white froth, colliding with dozens of craggy black rocks that dot the small stretch of shore, then finally nestles on the smooth wet sand. I remember that I forgot to bring a container to collect sand. Birds fly in groups. The sunlight catches spiderwebs in the foliage to my right. Another hiker comes wandering up my path - time to leave and see the rest.

***

Later - chai and toast in the garden of Marla Bakery. Later - reading Julia Child on an enormous fallen tree trunk at the top of Strawberry Hill, then watching two hummingbirds dance on the branch above me, send out flashes of their long, silvery tongues. A hawk glides above and I catch its twin, the shadow gliding below.

Ramblings in Thailand

Driving, northern Thailand:

Another countryside speeds past me. Green green grass, broken occasionally by watery rice paddies (we think). Green trees, some tall elegant palms, some unknown, and some squat banana fronds with fanning leaves. The sun has been playing peekaboo with the clouds but now it's shining in full force, glimmering off water and shiny waxy leaves, yellow through my sunglasses and warm on my skin. The sky is a light blue, not bright, but easily holds layers of fluffy clouds in suspension. The clouds play with the tips of the mountains in the distance, rugged and deep blue-green, anchoring the horizon.

As we speed by in the back of a red open-air taxi truck, I keep taking out my phone to capture photos. I don't want to miss anything.
- the sun on the hills - check
- the giant gold Buddha - check
- friends sleeping in the cab - check
- a dozen people working in the rice paddy - miss
- the mysterious smoke hanging in the distance - check
- infinite disorganized rundown shacks, sprinkled with mini gold shrines - check
- a market scene as we pass through a town - check
- a large building flanked by jewel-covered gold snakes - miss
Taking it all in fills me up with it, bringing satisfaction, presence, and gratitude. I am here. I wonder if I'm getting a sunburn.

I become aware of 2 sounds - the groan of the taxi tires on the pavement, and the whizz of cars and motorcycles that pass us. I'm glad our driver isn't speeding.

Changes have happened - more signs and billboards; denser, nicer stores; more electricity cables. We are getting close to Chiang Mai. We stop at the first stoplight since we left the waterfall. A Thai boy jay walks across the street, maybe aiming for one of the open eateries lining the road. They remind me of Chile.

Now a cloud formation has moved in front of the sun and sends a spray of light waves glowing through. I want to capture it but the view is interrupted - car dealerships, shrine dealerships, banks, housing, traffic across the small median. We're sharing the road now with semis, tuk tuks, and my favorite dragon- painted trucks. One pickup truck holds a mass of people standing in the back, smiles on. We turn onto a smaller road, nearing our hostel. We're tired, damp, counting our mosquito bites, and content.

Europe Flashback

So I was cleaning today and found the old notebook I brought with me everywhere in Europe.  Some notes I found:

- Porto, Portugal: "I think I'm having a physical reaction to how much I love this place. It's like the sunlight and language and waves (beauty?) are running through my nerves. I'll be back here. Probably for a summer or maybe to write a book."

-"Venice feels like two places competing for the same real estate - Venice of history buried under Venice of today, a money-making island luring in 60,000 tourists a day."

- "The setting sun, behind the Italian hills, rivals the rising sun of the English countryside. Both illuminate their respective fields and trees, but one looks like a storybook and one looks like a..."

- Venice: "When noon strikes, a bell tower in the distance begins to ring, long steady strikes. It is quickly lost by the great clanging of another, closer, bell tower. When the song of that one falls away, I notice the ringing of another tower, or two, echoing down the canal, a few second behind the rest of the choir.

The sun bores itself into my arms and ankles as I sit, legs outstretched, on the stone ground with my back against the base of a bridge. People carrying shopping bags or strollers scurry across the arched bridge behind me then down to my left. To my right, the sound of waves lapping in the canal are disturbed only by the occasional boat - locals chug by on power boats, tourists armed with cameras float by on gondolas adorned in red and gold, and Venician men on boats laden with boxes make the delivery rounds. I watch three men deliver a washing machine - off the boat, to the cart, then rolled away, as the boat continues under my bridge to deliver at least six more. The images of the shutters, windowsills, and arches of the brick and plaster, sand and sherbert buildings lining the canal reflect off the blue and silver water; I reach down but cannot touch it.

A white bird expertly sails down the canal, between the buildings. I am reminded that the bright slice of sky above the canal is the same sky above Chicago. A sandwich-eating couple sits near me; after they leave, a pidgeon bobbles around, looking for crumbs.

I decide to wander off for gelato." 


What brings you here? She asks.
I tell her about my traveling through London and Italy before settling, for a time, in Spain.
I see two emotions come to her eyes:
Joy for all the experiences she foresees in my future,
her years of wisdom knowing more than I, deeper than mine.
And recognition of a longing.
I know that she knows she wanted to do the same.
"Good for you," she says. "How good for you."
So it goes with every woman older than me
I've encountered, at cafes, on sidewalks, on trains.
Sometimes her eyes reveal a third element:
Memories from her past stirring up,
herself - on a similar voyage.
But most often there is not.
It's just the two.

Captured: Reunions

I got to see two favorite people from my past this week :-)

Haiden, who I used to babysit when she was in diapers!

Chris, now a junior, who was one of the most awesome freshmen at the high school where I worked.

Moment: Book Club

I think starting a weekly book club with a handful of friends is one of my favorite things I've done in a while.  Yummy food, girl talk, and a really real conversation about diversity and our experiences with it (thanks to the book we're reading, The Color of Water by James McBride) = win.

Note to self: continue to seek out diverse friends.  Combining the experiences of small town America, mixed race, the south, immigration, white privilege, and a palette of cultures is way more fun than not :-)

Moment: Canvassing NLD

One of the best days ever today - driving (and getting lost) around North Lawndale with Molly to pass out flyers to the North Lawndale Service Day:

- an elementary student whose school CY painted last week was so happy to see us
- an older woman at a restaurant told us all about how she had CY at her school growing up
- we accidentally found a nonprofit, LAMP, that works with children who are impacted by incarceration, and discovered that we know some of the same students :-)
- the whole atmosphere of the community seemed different to me than usual; since we were seeking out other organizations in the area, it was like we stumbled upon this whole world of active do-gooders that we never knew existed.

Note to self - wherever I work, try to find this invisible network as early as possible, then use each other to collaborate and refer.  "Who else is on the beach?"

Moment: Mascot

Our team's favorite "mascot" (aka kid that hangs out with us all the time) sitting in our room, talking about goals and grades and whether or not he'll make it to the NFL, diverts to a story about his childhood friend who was one grade older - "When he was in 9th grade and I was in 8th, he told me just to go to school and do what I gotta do, not to get distracted like other kids... then one day his grandma told me he died.  And I didn't cry or anything, even though I knew him since I was like 10 or 11.  And she told me he left me a note, you know we used to play football together and all that, and the note said that if I didn't make it to college for anyone else, to make it for him and for myself.  So that's what I'm going to do."

1)  I love that he's close enough to us to open up like that.  Who would he talk to otherwise?  Makes sense why he drives us crazy talking every day after school.

2) Sad that he said repeatedly "but it wasn't like a tragic death, he just drowned in his friend's pool in the suburbs, then had brain damage. But it wasn't like he was shot or anything."  Another reflection of how accustom to death the kids in this neighborhood are.

Moment: Return

Hearing "Hey, Ms. Lewis" and turning around to see a student that had quit school about a month ago standing there on his way to the cafeteria.

(I got TWO hugs and he told me that he's glad to be back in school :-)  Which, clearly, I followed up by giving him a long note and a book at the end of the day.  He told me he would read it "just for me."  Being the only adult that sits and listens to a kid can have its payoffs).