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An End to a Worthy Quest

My last day in California. Not forever, I’ll be back! I got a late start today, but the sun was shining through the windows beckoning me onwards. I walked to Bernal Heights, enjoying leisurely window-shopping along Cortland Avenue. It reminded me of downtown Winslow, actually, complete with cute gift shops, casual dining spots, a friendly, quirky bookshop, and an old-fashioned library. Book tourism is surprisingly satisfying, given that one can see books anywhere — but the variety of venues I’ve seen throughout this voyage makes it clear that the juxtaposition and selection of books, as well as the environment in which they are browsed through and discovered, makes physical books irreplaceable. They create an asynchronous community of voices and perspectives, connecting authors and readers throughout time and space. I can pick up a book because it is placed next to one I know, find a used copy signed by a writer I hadn’t heard of before, flip the pages flipped by dozens or hundreds of others in the book-lovers’ unending search for compelling words.

As the afternoon drew long, I took the long road back, through the Bernal Heights Park, with a clear-skied view of the city spilling out over the hills. I walked along 24th, with its Mexican bakeries and taquerias, and the evening crowd beginning to take to the streets. Iggy was not able to make it back from work in time, so I gathered my things and said my goodbyes to Lucy. I hiked to the nearest BART stop and enjoyed the subway ride to Berkeley, where I plopped down in Half Price Books until Ben got back from Parkour class. Then I waited for him to scrape himself off the pavement — yeah, you’d better believe it’s not as easy as they make it look, but what an awesome way to get injured! — and we caught up over Thai food with his friend, who turned out to be a speedy driver. Suffice to say I made it to the train on time, and prepared for a night of cat-naps and a day of return.

Knowing that Santa Cruz is there, waiting for me, I feel some part of my soul-searching is at peace. I thought I desperately needed to find my place and go there immediately, but having found it, I can move forward — go to grad school, pursue an awesome career as a landscape architect, explore other places, and find a way to get back there. I also learned how much my friends appreciate me, one of the few times I’ve felt truly valid as a human being and not just a hanger-on. In the limited time frames formed by rushing from place to place, I’m actually making time for other people, and it’s so worth it. It’s too easy for me to be a lazy homebody, but with a bit of forethought, I can say that I’ve done things at the end of the day, and I have people to say them to — people who care! It’s true in California, it’s true in Oregon, it’s true in Washington, and it’s true in Massachusetts. As I move forward with my life, I vow to remember to make time for friendships, and create days worth sharing with them.

I may not have my half-acre, but the quest remains worthy!

2010 03 04 Travel Comments (0)

Rain at Last

With all the unseasonably good weather I’ve been having, it was only a matter of time before I got rained on. On my way to Civic Center, I had the good fortune to hit upon the Farmer’s Market — free samples galore from the friendly farmers under their white or blue tents! But I lingered too long, and as I tried to beat the darkening clouds overhead, they insisted on sending down sprinkles while I walked through the lush hidden gardens of Macondry. Then I got a reprieve to walk along Columbia, people-watching along the trolly route, enjoying the European feel of a street lined with classy restaurants and cafes with outdoor seating. I even stopped by XOX Truffles to spend some spare change on a tiny treasure of hazelnut chocolate. I was less impressed by City Lights Bookstore, though, whose entire poetry floor failed to turn up anything by Robert Service, Clark Ashton Smith, or any other Weird or even metred rhyme. Bah, I say, bah!

In China Town the deluge hit. Watching hipsters, fashionistas, and businessmen slurp down cheap food in run-down restaurants next to “oriental massage” parlors, I thrust my umbrella ahead of me to battle the wind-propelled rain-bullets. My feet and spirits soaked to the bone, I huddled in the library pondering my next move. The vegan folks at Maggie Mudd had recommended Rainbow Grocery, so as soon as the rain moved on, I started my trek anew. It was totally worth the walk, though, because the co-op sported a cosy warehouse feel, packed with people and lined with fresh and bulk food. I couldn’t resist a loaf of cranberry walnut bread baked that morning, and I picked up some bulk sauerkraut and some mixed frozen vegetables to cook up a late lunch.

Now, Iggy lives near the Projects, which strikes a twinge of fear into the heart of a girl who grew up in a sheltered, monocultural environment. Try as I might, and all my world-travels aside, it was hard to shake the discomfort I felt around young black men in baggy clothing — a racist sentiment, I know, bred by television and my limited real-life exposure to cities. Mugging came to mind as I stared determinedly ahead and tried act casual and confident. Two guys in hoodies… walking towards me… stopping… staring… smiling? “Hey, nice shoes,” they said. “They look comfortable!”

“Yeah, they are!” That’s right racist stereotypes, I kick you in the seat of your pants with my toe-shoes.

That evening Iggy and I went to his friends’ house to play Settlers of Catan. The power stayed on this time, thankfully enough, but Iggy and Jenny bickered the whole time… Andy swooped in at the end for a very unexpected win, and he assured me that their games are not normally this bitter. But I was happy to meet new friends, especially geeky vegetarian friends who make me delicious stir-fry and carry on intelligent, witty Reedie dinner conversation!

2010 03 03 Travel Comments (0)

Mochi Machine

I am a mochi machine! I woke up, took the bus up to Japantown, and went to the mochi shop Ron Chun recommended so highly: Benkyodo. The man who runs it is well-aged and a bit thin, with glasses and a kind, articulate way of speaking. “I hear you have the best mochi around. Which would you recommend?” I got two whole-bean-filled mochi, both pastel green, one dusted with soybean powder. They were like just-sweet pillows, melting in my mouth but with a satisfying chewiness. Pure heaven! I munched on them as I walked to Golden Gate Park for free day at de Young Art Museum.

De Young Museum is pretty ugly from the outside, like a rusty ship, but if you go to the top of the observation tower, you can see for miles — the emerald canopy of the park, the pastel adobe-like neighborhoods of the city, and the sky as it clears up from its morning bout of rain. King Tut was actually there, but the admission was exorbitant — furnishing his afterlife yet more lavishly — so I stuck with the colorful abstractions of Dale Chihuly’s glass and equally colorful abstractions of the much older (and perhaps less pretentious) Amish quilts.

From there I bussed to the Public Library to rest my feet and look up a ice cream shop that I’d heard had vegan waffle cones. It turned out to be all the way down Valencia and then some, a good hour-long hike, but with a lot of great stores along the way — FLAX art shop and Little Otsu stationary especially drew me in. Unexpectedly good weather, too, which has followed me around like Iggy’s over-eager pup, Lucy. At last, powered only by those two little mochi, I made it halfway across the city to Maggie Mudd’s ice creamery to enjoy a well-deserved late-afternoon cone filled with lemon-poppyseed and chocolate-cardamom goodness. Heaven again!

I hung out and read the Economist until Ron Chun and Iggy got off work, and Ron treated us to dinner at the South Indian restaurant, Dosa. We ordered the namesake rice-and-lentil pancakes with various fillings and various spicy dipping sauces, and ate our delicious fill. A welcome reprieve from the relatively heavy curries of the standard Punjabi fare. But the evening moved on, and Ron and I said our goodbyes and goodnights. Good night!

2010 03 02 Travel Comments (0)

Rice-A-Roni Town

After another day of hiking and relaxing, I said my farewells and took the Caltrain to the big city of San Fran. Am I the only one for whom San Francisco and Rice-A-Roni are inextricably intermixed? Anyhow, I met Jamie, my old neighbor on Bainbridge, who has had a fabulous career as an environmental engineer — her research takes her to exotic locales to study their coral reeds. She and her partner Chris are avid triathletes, so it was great to meet people who actually brought up barefoot running before seeing my toe-shoes, and who are not daunted by a 20 minute walk to their favorite restaurant! Unfortunately the restaurant was closed, so we walked right back again and feasted at the Thai place in their apartment building.

They kindly gave me a lift to Iggy’s lovely townhouse (vaguely) near the Mission, and we spent a mellow evening watching TV shows on Iggy’s computer. He introduced me to the geek-spy show Chuck and the sitcom How I Met Your Mother, which features Doctor Horrible and Willow, and in this particular episode, the hypnotically cute teacup pig. Girls cannot resist the teacup pig! ALL GLORY TO THE TEACUP PIG!

2010 03 01 Travel Comments (0)

The Felton Spa Experience

Ted and Barbara’s place is like a spa. There is the forest, with miles of well-kept trails and clean air, filtered and oxygenated by the moss-covered redwoods and the energetic creek. I spent hours hiking there today, once the mist burned off a bit. There is the infrared sauna, which makes my skin glow but fails to elicit actual sweat. I tried that one twice to no avail — not enough toxins! — but Barbara assures me that it’s doing good, healthy things anyway. Then there is the hot tub, kept at Japanese temperatures (read: almost unbearable, especially when you’re getting into it from the cool night air). I simmered there before bed, on a bright full-moon night.

In the early evening, before the sun set, we all went down to the famous Santa Cruz walk around West Cliff Drive. Everyone was out, with their children, their dogs, their instruments, and their hula-hoops. There were enough surfers to classify as flotsam. And the waves — oh the waves! — they rolled in mighty, folding over the surfers and exploding over the cliffs. Yet when they reached shore, they were as chill as beach bums. Further out, we saw otters — real wild otters! — munching on dinner. If there weren’t so many clouds in the distance, the sunset would have been glorious, but instead, as it slipped into the misty horizon, we moved out wind-chilled selves homeward, towards the Felton spa.

2010 02 28 Travel Comments (0)

An Ice Cream Sundae Day

After a day of doing absolutely, blissfully nothing, reading and listening to the rain, I had a day jam-packed with adventure. I finally got in touch with my uncle’s friend, Ron Chun, a tax lawyer, disaster-preparedness card-holder, amateur guitarist, and honorary lesbian, and he picked me up bright and early. We introduced ourselves over coffee (or vanilla soy steamer in my case) and then drove along the coast to San Francisco. The Chilean earthquake gave us great waves to look at, buffered by a bluing sky and rolling hills and red-clay cliffs. It felt like a wild and decadent treat, an ice cream sundae of a Saturday, what with the driving all the way up to the City for a day. But I would never have seen half of what I did if I had been on my own — and as Barbara commented later, there is something very different about traveling with a companion, someone to share the experiences with and talk to.

Ron Chun is certainly talkative. He had so many stories, whether he was sharing his love of movies having to do with after-death experiences, the time he changed estate laws for gay couples, how one friend is serving time as an arson and another works directly with Steve Jobs, how he saved a battered women’s shelter, and the grandest story of a Chinese woman whose Fillipino husband was a US spy and POW during World War II, to whom Ron brought Chinese food every day on her death bed until she rose enthusiastically back to life for her last few days. Very Tanpopo.

He also has a most realistic view of life and the unending compromises that must be made, especially in the sociopolitical realms. If you decriminalize marijuana and put drug abusers through therapy instead of in jail, then the police officers lose money and jobs! If you reorganize public schools to be more effective, then the teachers’ union gets angry! Ron believes that adulthood is what you attain when you lose your naive idealism and accept the evil along with the good. I found this cheerfully jaded perspective depressing, however, in light of my inspiring discussions with Ted. Sure, you may never make everyone happy, but far-sighted goals make it easier to figure out which compromises to make. What values and philosophies will guide our choices? Without idealism, without dreaming of a utopia, without sticking to our principles even when it hurts, “reconciliation” will be driven by short-term, selfish decisions that lead to a dark place where everyone is unhappy.

Ah, but disagreements aside — and as a young ‘un I certainly have no solid ground form which to criticize an experienced lawyer’s hard-won philosophy — the weather fought all predictions and rained sun on us all day long. We visited the steepest and the windiest streets in San Francisco, Filbert and Lombard, we explored the most expensive neighborhoods with the most spectacular views, like Pacific Heights, we took in the city’s sprawling, hilly landscape from the top of Twin Peaks, and we scaled the art deco Coit Tower.

We strolled down the Haight, stopping into little punk clothing and music shops, and enjoyed lunch at an Eritrean place, which is like Ethiopian food, but with slightly lighter, higher spice notes, and just as satisfying. When the day was said and done, we scooted over to Portland-like Valencia to dine at Herbivore, a vegan place that has something for everyone, and had omnivorous Ron Chun wanting to come back for more. In between we toured Golden Gate Park, enjoying the orchid-filled jungle of the Conservatory, and the varied landscapes of the Botanical Gardens. As with the Arboretum, it hit home how much I would love to work in such places — at least on a sunny day!

Ah yes, I did forget to mention one thing: I got accepted to RISD!

One down, four to go… then I’ll put them all in a cage and let them duke it out as to who gets me in their Masters of Landscape Architecture program. Or I could clone myself and go to all of ‘em, we’ll see.

2010 02 27 Travel Comments (0)

The Worlds We Dream Of

Yep. I’m in love. Today I got a ride with Ted into town early, and hiked up to the Arboretum. Filled with flora from California, New Zealand, Australia, and South Africa, I could barely take two steps before finding some exotic succulent, or a bench nestled among rare red-flowering eucalyptus, or scurrying rabbits and quail. I met the curator — oh how I covet his job! — and let my eyes guide my barely-clad feet through this wonderland garden.

Walking through the upper neighborhoods I found a perfect triangle patch of land for sale, overlooking a crested view of the bay, and surrounded by charming houses nested in lush, colorful gardens. No price, but it’s better that way. I need to send my parents on a pilgrimage first. Like-minded people, decent public transportation, beautiful neighborhoods, pedestrian and bicycle friendly, the only thing lacking is an eminently affordable cost of living. Real estate prices reflect the desiribility of a place, and Barbara warned that choosing a cheaper location got her house broken into five times in nine months — elsewhere there’s gang violence. Needless to say, she moved.

Next stop was the UC Santa Cruz campus. The students hurried through forest pathways and over foot bridges, taking for granted the park-like atmosphere and even a family of deer calmly grazing by the side of a classroom building. Elsewhere there are rolling fields, and food-producing gardens fed by student composting efforts. I finally grabbed a bus back to town, happy to rest my feet and refuel with a wrap from the little one-woman sidewalk cafe,  Alfresco.

I got to the library, the bookstore, and submitted my application to New Leaf organic grocery before Ted picked me up again on his way back. In the evening we watched the news (aka The Daily Show) and the Olympics, savoring the speedball slalome and the gracefully stunning figure skating, interspersed with conversation about Buddhism, Burning Man, and Ted’s own experiences at the Olympics as a gymnastics coach and international judge. He talked about how the US is slipping into a Third World country, and how capitalism and the military are preventing us from making our schools and transit systems and industry top-notch — instead we’re patching holes in a sinking boat as the infrastructure becomes outdated and degraded.

Of course, with all the traveling he and Barbara do, they see the effects of extreme thinking all over. In Turkey you can hardly mention human rights, and women are pressured to stay out of politics altogether. Politics is about compromise and reconciliation instead of creating a world we’d all like to see. Ted grew up in an era of the Can-Do attitude, and he’s seen how people can create an entire city without money or violence — the sharing of art, intellect, goods, and services he’s seen at Burning Man. Much as the authors of Cradle to Cradle advocate hinking of ways we can increase our positive impact on the environment rather than simply being “less bad,” Ted and Barbara seem to hope and work for changes in the way we interact, making the world not only safe and peaceful but vibrant and alive.

Now the question is how to act in a way the increases the meaningful connections between people, throughout time and space, and our habitats and cultures? As Ted said, the best thing would be if the Dalai Llama was ruler of the world — but if he was, he wouldn’t have to rule at all, because it would only happen when we all agreed that compassion was more valuable than currency.

2010 02 25 Travel Comments (0)

Forests to Oceans

With the promise of making it down to Santa Cruz in the afternoon and the weather miraculously clearing up, Ted took me on his daily hike in the nearby redwoods. Clearcut a century ago to quarry lime, you would neve guess you could have seen much sky, the place is so lush. The rainfall made the creek strong and confident, singing in many voices like a low-fequency Tuvan throat-singer. Ted shared his Zen spots and pointed out a colorful fungi and a little shrine. Instead of a spectacle that takes your breath away, like a roaring waterfall or a dusky mountain, a forest seeps into your soul and becomes your breath. You become an instant in the life of those moss-robed trees, but at the same time the most significant instant.

The microclimates are myriad here, though. Twenty minutes away from what could practically be the Olympic Penninsula was the sunny, surfing downtown Santa Cruz. The main street was designed for pedestrians, with sidewalks big enough to put food kiosks and outdoor seating in he middle of them. Students and musically inclined homeless made the place more than a shopping district, though it was lined with eco-friendly botiques and cafes. The spirit is environmentally- and socially-consious, and I was lucky enough to be there for the year-round farmer’s market, a foodie’s dream, sporting local organic produce from oranges to kale to walnuts, and fresh almond milk, sorbet, and saurkraut. I filled up on samples and stuffed me bag before heading down to the beach.

I remembered the warf from my previous visit, a long boardwalk with shops and restaurants at the end, and seagulls and pelicans and surf bums and homeless bums. Children played on the sand and surfers bobbed in the waves waiting for the next good ride to shore. The eucalyptus and orange trees shaded townhouses, beach cottages, and mission-style architecture along the side streets.

Reluctantly I got on the bus back to Felton. Barbara helped me get a handle on the job and real estate market, pointing me to a place up the road from UCSC where there’s abundant farmland where you can grow bananas, yet still on a bus route. You can also rent little studio cottages right in town for reasonable rates — a great idea for testing the waters if only anyone was hiring!

It could just be the unseasonable sunshine, but this place could be the place. Yet knowing that I have found it makes the search less urgent, because I know I can come back here someday. I know my little half acre will be waiting for me.

2010 02 24 Travel Comments (0)

Sleeping Next to Santa Cruz

Travel day. Jessica and her mom spent the morning struggling furiously to get everything packed, including gaggles of gifts for their family. Jessica’s sister, Jennifer, and I hugged and waved them on their way, then we made our own way to the Caltrain station, and I headed off to Santa Cruz. It was not a direct flight, with a transfer in San Jose that had me running to buy bananas to get exact  change for the bus, and in Scotts Valley I missed my pickup when Ben’s mom, Barbara, called out for “Amy.” I walked around the suburby sleepy town, and read in the library until I could get ahold of her and Ted, Ben’s dad.

Oh but it was worth the wait! They live in a craftsman-style house, covered in shingle siding and embedded in the redwood rainforest of Felton. The windows and skylights reveal only green and the musical notes of the rain. I curled up in their reading room, a flat platform sporting pillows and a comforter, and drank tea in a Mexican mug while absorbing the positive thinking of Cradle to Cradle.

2010 02 23 Travel Comments (0)

A Tour of San Francisco and Korea

Jessica’s mom rules the day! She decided to take me out to Golden Gate Bridge, and after days of gloom and the occasional doom, we got clear blue skies to play the backdrop to the structure’s vermillion towers. After a photo-op and a great view of the harbor, we continued on to Sausalito in the pretty hills on the other side of the Bay. An expensive seaside tourist town much like the place I grew up, but not particularly heart-grabbing, the place nonetheless provided familiar tidal smells and a salty breeze, even a little foot ferry! I managed to fall and scrape my hands on the sidewalk, though, causing Jessica and her mom to wonder if I was this clumsy all the time — really, I’ve tripped all of a quarter dozen times in my life, and apparently Jessica is there for more than one of them.

We had pizza by the docks, then hurried home so that Jessica and her mom could pack for Korea — Jessica is going for a year to teach English, and her mom is helping her get settled. Meanwhile, I spent the afternoon hunting and applying for jobs. I was so engrossed that I hardly noticed the time fly by until it was time for dinner! Jessica’s mother treated me to a Korean feast: rice speckled with beans, with sides of kimchee, steamed asparagus, sweet and spicy lotus root, edamame, and pickled jalapeno daikon. This was really amazing food, and I love how traditional Korean meals are served as rice with a series of condiments, which you can easily make in large batches and store in the refrigerator and serve in those cute Japanese dishes I’m always admiring. All the fermented foods make it as healthy as it is delicious. Jessica’s family also introduced me to purple sweet potatoes, also known as taro, which they simply roast and eat out of the peel with a dessert spoon — it’s so sweet and smooth, it’s like some sort of purple custard.

Thank you, Jessica’s mom, for all your advice, your food, your hospitality. You are the best host!

2010 02 22 Travel Comments (0)