The city of fog, the city of wind, the city of hills, the city of liberal thought, the city of citizen activists, the city on the bay, and the last city of America we shall see for some time.
We arrived on here on Wednesday evening, driving over the Golden Gate Bridge a little after sunset. I still feel a thrill driving over that span of water. Such a national icon! And for those of you who need to know for your next trivia game, the color of the paint is international orange, whatever that is. At least it’s not Home Depot orange. We drove down after spending time in the redwoods and visiting some of my old haunts around Arcata (about 60 miles south of the Oregon border, 230 miles north of SF – basically in the middle of absolute nothing except rocks and woods – they don’t call it the Lost Coast for nothing).
The redwoods are simply magical. They are beyond description in beauty and dimension. You can’t do them justice with words. They are ancient, strong, solid, tall, and all around perfect creatures. I won’t ever forget seeing Leigh’s eyes light up with joy and delight as we entered the first groves of redwoods. Her inner child came out to play in the big, beautiful woods. And the redwoods welcomed her. Massive pillars of living green energy, they are sacred and every step we took filled our hearts with love, admiration, humbleness and love. They were magnificent in their virtual cloud forest that hangs over the North Coast from November until May. Regal and noble beings, the redwoods. Redwoods are some of the oldest species of trees on Earth and at one point (during the Jurassic) they stretched all the way to Michigan. I am always humbled yet honored to be in their presence, and I sensed this was how Leigh was feeling too. There is something uplifting and energizing about walking in their shadows. An instinctual and ancient sense of security seeps into your soul when walking in the deep groves. On the other hand, it also saddens when I enter the redwoods (or any ancient forest) because I am always stuck so profoundly by the perfection in balance of these ever shrinking forests and the bitter fact they are disappearing much too fast as well. It must have sparked something deep in Leigh as well, because as we drove farther south and began to leave redwood country she got very teary and emotional. I had always felt strongly about these primeval guardians of the forest, but to see someone else feel such emotion and love so quickly after meeting them....it was a blessing to be witness to the glory of Mother Earth.
Kowanasqatsi, a Navaho word meaning ‘life out of balance’. A great and powerful film. Highly recommended.
Speaking of trees, I just have to spend a second on what I consider to one of the most beautiful trees in the world: the madrone. Whereas the redwood is a giant among its peers, a solid, thick, commanding tree that is not know for its diversity; the madrone is unassuming, graceful, elegant, and quite colorful, everyone is unique and completely different than its neighbor. Ranging from 25 to 50 or 60 feet tall, the madrone is an evergreen of sorts (it is not a conifer, nor does it have needles….it just never loses its leaves during the year). The most striking thing about the madrone is the colorful trunks. Reds, coppers, tans, browns, greens, yellows, all can be found in the attractive trunk of a madrone. There is a back of course, but the bark over time peels away to revel the inner hardwood that has an uncanny resemblance to skin. It is smooth and feels wonderful to the touch and runs a wide spectrum of color. To help accentuate the transition from bark to skin-wood, the different layers peel back much like a beech, so there are these beautiful scrolls of madrone. And the farther up the tree you go and the more narrow the branches are, the more bark-less the wood is, so by the time you reach the upper canopy of a madrone there is this beautiful play of color between the copper-red of the wood and the deep green of the leaves. They are simply a treasure to behold and the hills coastal northern California are covered in them. Visual poetry in tree form.
Sadly leaving the land of big and elegant trees, we continued south into the hill country just north of San Francisco. The visual cornucopia continued as the weather was anything but boring. There was hail the size of acorns twice during a 3 hour span, there was rain, drizzle, broken clouds, strong winds and even some warm sun during the 250+ miles we drove that day. Down thru the vineyard country and then west over the small coastal hills to the Pacific, we connected with the scenic highway 1 for the rest of our journey south. The ocean, whose power has affected all we’ve seen so far on our West Coast journey, welcomed us with warm sun and glorious views. The road was not the quickest I’ve ever taken as it twisted and turned over the hills and bluffs that marks the western terrestrial border. Past Point Reyes and Muir Woods, down thru Sonoma and Marin counties we traveled, enjoying each other’s company and the visual splendor created by the sometimes delicate sometimes harsh dance between the land and sea.
As night approached and the sun was setting (first Pacific sunset since our Panama honeymoon), we drove over the icon of San Fran: the Golden Gate Bridge. Such an incredible feat of engineering, such a marvel! But once across the bridge, we both immediately started feeling the strong anxiety of being in a larger city. Our senses were assaulted with horns, lights, fumes and so many people. It was such a dramatic switch from the peaceful, slow, quiet places we were enjoying for the last week. Even Portland, a large city by comparison, never felt this urban or crowded.
Trying to readjust to the pace of the big city, we tracked down an old Humboldt State friend, Steve who had offered us a place to stay in his communal house located between the Mission and Castro districts. This location could not have been more convenient. Basically in the heart of the city, between two very engaging and very different neighbor hoods (the predominately gay and colorful Castro district and the predominately alternative and ethnically diverse Mission district), this Victorian style two story summed up SF perfectly. We were offered a room with a comfortable bed (our first real bed since leaving the east coast!) for 5$ a night. Talk about getting the hook up! And it was wonderfully San Francisco. What I mean, all the roommates were pretty liberal and pretty activist. Much of the talk around the breakfast table centered on which protest or rally you were going to attend that day. And it was one of the only houses in the area to survive the 1906 earthquake and subsequent fires, so it was a really old house but totally charming. After dropping our bags at Steve’s and dropping the rental car off, we had an interesting Indonesia meal and then an even more impacting walk back to the house. Much like Price Siddhartha’s departure from the palace, Leigh and I came face to face with suffering during that walk. Passing more homeless than I care to count, we also saw prostitutes, drug users, shady characters and unhappy souls. I was starkly reminded of all my privileges.
My other friend from HSU, Kathleen, came up to visit as well, so it was a really nice reunion for a couple days. Besides a brief visit in ’01 with Steve as he was passing thru back to SF from his stint in Senegal for the Peace Corps, I had not seen either one of them since leaving Arcata (home of HSU). They were 2 of 3 friends I made and kept from those isolating and lonely days spent out here. We enjoyed the next few days of unusual sunny SF with walks to the parks, lunches of Pakistani or Mexican food, good deep conversations about ‘the broken system’, politics, compassion, our lives and our dreams. It was very pleasant to reconnect with these two great people and I hope it won’t be another 8 years before we see each other again.
We also had great time hanging out with our friend Laura, her roommate Ryan (only other girl I’ve ever met named that besides my sister) and her friend Rob. They took us around as well and showed us lots of great places to eat, including this one sushi place that had extraordinarily creative rolls, really beautiful servers and played Godzilla movies on the wall while you ate. Very SF, very fun. Did you know there are over 260 sushi places in the bay area? I mean it boggles the mind. I think I would eat sushi and nothing but sushi if I ever lived here. Personally, I don’t want to live in SF. Too big, too urban, too concrete. Leigh and I agree that we want to live somewhere smaller.
Finally the big day arrived: Saturday, D-day, departure day, and last day in the States. Throughout the morning, I helped Leigh repack all 4 of our luggage bags as 2 of them were well over the 70 lb limit China Air had set. Filled with a strange sense of calm, I felt naively ready to leave. It was odd, but I didn’t really feel anxious or stressed or excited or anything really. I just felt like this was the next step we had to take, the next stage or our adventure. I can’t explain it, but this sense of calm, which sometimes approaches numbness, overcomes me in advance of a big trip. Even during my stint with CARE, I would feel this way. Maybe it is a defensive response, maybe it is ignorance, maybe I am too functional or practical in someway. Or maybe I just show my anxiety in other ways, like getting sick (which I am and have been for a week now!). Nonetheless, the day passed and evening approached. We said our good-byes to Steve, Kathy and SF. Laura came to pick us up and took us out to dinner at a nice restaurant called Home (appropriately named as this would be our last meal at home). Leigh had the city’s best Mac ‘n Cheese (and it was delicious), I opted for the green salad and vegetable medley. I felt the need to really store up on raw foods, fruits and veggies before entering the land of dried yak meat and roasted barley!
The city of fog, the city of wind, the city of hills, the city of liberal thought, the city of citizen activists, the city on the bay, and the last city of America we shall see for some time. 
Sadly leaving the land of big and elegant trees, we continued south into the hill country just north of 
As night approached and the sun was setting (first Pacific sunset since our 
Finally the big day arrived: Saturday, D-day, departure day, and last day in the States. Throughout the morning, I helped Leigh repack all 4 of our luggage bags as 2 of them were well over the 70 lb limit China Air had set. Filled with a strange sense of calm, I felt naively ready to leave. It was odd, but I didn’t really feel anxious or stressed or excited or anything really. I just felt like this was the next step we had to take, the next stage or our adventure. I can’t explain it, but this sense of calm, which sometimes approaches numbness, overcomes me in advance of a big trip. Even during my stint with CARE, I would feel this way. Maybe it is a defensive response, maybe it is ignorance, maybe I am too functional or practical in someway. Or maybe I just show my anxiety in other ways, like getting sick (which I am and have been for a week now!). Nonetheless, the day passed and evening approached. We said our good-byes to Steve, Kathy and SF. Laura came to pick us up and took us out to dinner at a nice restaurant called Home (appropriately named as this would be our last meal at home). Leigh had the city’s best Mac ‘n Cheese (and it was delicious), I opted for the green salad and vegetable medley. I felt the need to really store up on raw foods, fruits and veggies before entering the land of dried yak meat and roasted barley! 