The City By The Bay

And I set off alone, properly alone this time, to San Francisco, knowing no one and nowhere in particular. I'm an expert at leaving L.A. now, especially by plane, which is good, because the next time I do, it'll be to fly home. So I fled the city once more, to another city, to see if perhaps California might still capture my heart.

With 800,000 residents, and 4.9 square miles in size, San Francisco is positively tiny. If so inclined, which I wasn't, you could scour the city on foot, find all the nooks and crannies that the tour buses leave out. Uncharacteristically, I succumbed to the tour bus pressure - it was just easier, demanded less from me - and paid for a hop-on/hop-off experience. The plus side is that I got to sit atop a Tarantino-red double-decker bus, buffetted by the wind, and absorb what I was being told by the guide. San Francisco sprang out of the gold rush in the early to mid 1800s. In 1906, it experienced a terrible earthquake that destroyed nearly everything, and so they had to rebuild, with the result that its narrow streets are populated by remarkably similar, charming, bay-windowed houses, all built around 1907. Note: I love bay windows and have decided that wherever I live, I MUST have one.

Something about this trip made me melancholic. I like to travel alone, but I think you need to be in a certain headspace to do that confidently, and unfortunately I wasn't in that headspace. Too much has been up in flux recently, I've been anxious, human company has been what keeps me grounded, and suddenly there I was, afloat in a sea of strangers. It also didn't help that I was broke. The trick is not to stop moving though, so move I did.

I loved the acquarium - there's just something dreamlike about being underwater and watching the sunlight filter through the kelp as schools of fish circle in a figure of eight above your head. And Golden Gate Bridge, in all of its emergency orange, cabled splendour, with the view of San Francisco from the across the water, the Bay on your right, the Pacific Ocean roaring to your left, and ahead, Sausalito, the most charming (and ridiculously overpriced) seaside town. I was forced to limit my excursions to financially manageable things, mostly, to I wandered hither and thither, taking in the wall murals on the streets and down the alleys of the Mission District, and the zen of the Japanese Tea Garden in Golden Gate Park. I also took time to marvel at the lanterns strung every which way in and the ferocious red and gold building facades and fruit markets of Chinatown. I took myself out to dinner at Tony's Pizza in Little Italy and drank wine and ate the best pizza of my life at the bar (something I've never done once in 27 years), before I discovered (in the good old Columbus way) the City Lights Bookstore - the still living heart of the Beats, where Ginsberg's Howl was first published, and right next door, Cafe Vesuvio, where darling Kerouac and Neal Cassady themselves would drink. I whiled away several blissful hours pouring over Beat poetry and literature. Sometimes you need to go out drinking, and sometimes, you need to find a bookstore and drown out your worries with words.

I think my favourite day was the last day. I caught a tour bus to Sausalito, where I hopped off and bought some old-school fish and chips, which I ate sitting on a bench overlooking the harbour and the Bay, photosynthesising. Sausalito is perfect. I sat contemplatively and wondered when I became so anxious about the future. I know I'm capable, after all, so why the fear? It's a question that's on my mind a lot these days, but I'm sitting back to let it play out on its own for a bit before I try immediately to fix it. I'm learning to let the dust settle for I tackle feelings. It's less of a roller coaster. Anyway, I digress. From Sausalito, I caught a shuttle to Muir Woods National Monument, the last forest of coastal Redwoods near San Francisco. Redwoods are incredible. In-credible: impossible to believe even when you're staring at them. In Muir Woods, they live up to 1200 years (!) and grow up to 83 meters. I shunned the crowds on the main trail and headed up, up, up, on the Ocean View trail (I also have to prepare for the Grand Canyon, so any opportunity to hike!). I walked through a silent cathedral of trees, stunned, breath stolen. At one point, I was so dumbfounded that all I could do was laugh at the sheer, overwhelming beauty. No, 'beauty' doesn't do it justice. Exquisite. It was exquisite. It made my soul smile.

So I think I'll leave you there, with my soul smiling.

Happy Mothers' Day.

Much love.