"And the light is softly low as our hearts become sweetly untied..."

I forgot to mention how the Palace was perfect for imagining I was in The Light in the Piazza...

In this age of the internet we can see pictures of practically anything in the world. But some things really do surpass a picture or any expectation. Michelangelo's David, for example, far surpassed what I had imagined him to be like. I almost didn't go see him in Florence because I'd seen pictures and thought that was probably sufficient, and the line to get into that museum can get very long. But he was truly magnificent in person. Indescribable, you know? You just have to see him for yourself. The Redwoods, on the other hand, didn't quite live up to my imagination. But the Golden Gate Bridge triggered an unexpected reaction: I loved it. I think it is so beautiful, and it is so different seeing it in person than on a postcard. I can't really specify a reason for loving it so much, I just know that I did. Boats were out, we saw some real-life crabs, looked at creepy Alcatraz, and took a foot-shot. Taking pictures of my feet is something I like to do when I travel, adopted from Sylvia. Just a picture of me being some place, from my point of view, my feet solidly planted in some place that I'm loving. They're just pictures of me being somewhere.

This day was gorgeous, as you can tell. Blue skies, blue water, plenty of sun but not hot. San Francisco weather is weather that I like. We found the beautiful path to get up to where we could walk across the bridge. Here's something that really struck me and which I love about San Francisco: how the city and nature are so interconnected, entwined. In a lot of cities I feel like nature has been pushed out, like our mighty metropolises will be made weaker or less functional if we allow nature to remain where it naturally belongs; we must conquer it and cover it with pavement. Now of course I'm describing an extreme here and our cities do always have some trees, some flowers, some parks. But San Francisco feels like the people are living more in nature than most cities I've been in. The trees there don't look like they've been strategically planted where they won't bother anyone or inhibit our businesses, that's just where they grow. Gardens are nurtured throughout the city, huge (some people would say inconvenient) hills are embraced-- these challenges to building and living are celebrated and are an integral part of the city's identity. Nature is clearly very important to the inhabitants there. It reminded me of Edinburgh in that way; right smack in the middle of Edinburgh, another delightfully hilly city, is Holyrood Park which includes this HUGE hill with Arthur's Seat at the top. It's this wonderful highland landscape within the city. Accordingly, San Francisco has Telegraph Hill, which I would visit our second S.F. day. And of course I'm not even mentioning the water, wind, and sky which are a presence in San Francisco.

Walking up to the bridge we encountered some tunnels which clearly beckoned to us. Yes, they were roped off, did that stop us? They turned out to be old batteries from war days. And how could we resist taking some Jumping pictures with the Golden Gate. I love jumping pictures, which is something adopted from Stephanie Breinholt. They just look so free and joyful. You have to jump in places that you love, places that make you feel how you look: so enraptured and happy that you cannot be rooted to the earth.

After walking across the bridge, which is not as good as gazing at it in my opinion but you have to have some direct personal interaction with it, and not in a car, we drove across it.

In "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius" by Dave Eggers (which mostly takes place in San Francisco), he describes this drive:

"The bridge ends, the torn cotton clouds breaking up immediately, then it's clear, Easter blue, and we're on 101, but just for a second -- two exits and then we get off at Alexander, then come back under 101 and up the Headlandsdrive. As we climb with the road, right away above the Golden Gate, the clouds are suddenly below us, rolling through the bridge, fleece pulled through a harp.

Toph and I keep going up the hill because you have to go up to get to Black Sands, first straight up the hill, the road winding in and out, past all the tourists stopped for the view, looking down on the Golden Gate, and every time we double back toward the bridge, the view, biblical, presents itself, the view where one sees Treasure Island, and Alcatraz, then all ofRichmond, El Cerrito, Berkeley, and Oakland and then the Bay Bridge, then the white jagged seashells of downtown, the Golden Gate, blood red, then therest of the city, the Presideio, the avenues--

But we keep going, and as the road continues, winding up, the cars thin out,and at the very top of the hill/mountain, there are only a few sightseers left, and they are turning arond to go back down, three-point turning right at that WWII-era tunnel at the top, because it certainly seems like the road ends, right there, at the top of that hill--

But then the road continues, and there is a gate, a flimsy metal gate, right there, and it is open, it's probably always open. We keep going, not slowing...

The road, now a one-way, heads straight for the water, and it looks for about twenty seconds like we're going to go straight over...so we go slow, then the road starts bending right, and then down, and in a second we're driving parallel to the water, a few hundred feet up of course, for a while without even a visible cliffside to the left, just a sheer drop -- and then suddenly we see the Headlands whole, green and mohair hills, ocher velour,the sleeping lions, the lighthouse far to the left, unbelievable given we're ten minutes from the city, this vast bumpy land, could be Ireland or Scotland or the Falklands or wherever, and we snake down, with the road bending back and forth along the cliffside...lookee here, ha ha, look at this!"

The gate at the top was closed, but I got out and headed to the top on foot. On the way up I stepped off the road, pushed some branches aside, and looked off the edge toward the west and the lighthouse. It was such a view, and I felt like I was one of few people to have seen it. At the top there were these empty building which looked like they were built for birds? I don't know, but the view was incredible. I kind of wished it had been a cloudy/foggy day so we could see the clouds around the bridge, but I was also glad we got such a nice day as we did.

I wanted to stay there longer, or find the road I could see winding its way toward the lighthouse, but we had tickets to The Glass Menagerie that night at Berkeley Rep and we had to get dinner first. So we headed back down the hill and to the east to Sausilito. (Do you hear the pepperidge farms commercial for Sausilito cookies when you read that word, because I do.) Sausilito felt golden. It's got the Italian Riviera feel to it. We were in a bit of a rush, but still walked down the street next to the water in our perusings of restaurants. We ended up at this cafe which was open to the air and provided us with the best pizza Beth has ever tasted. It was Good.

I don't know how people who live in this area ever feel like they're not on vacation. It felt enlightened, paradisical. After living there, how could anyone live someplace like Utah? Not that Utah doesn't have its own beauties, but San Francisco is just an incredible blend of wide open blue skies and water with an infusion of golden light, delicious fog, verdant growing things, culture, hippie influences, and the great outdoors verging on the city. I understand why it's so expensive to live there, it's unlike anyplace else I've ever been.

We had to be on our way to Berkeley, but almost on the way was Lombard Street, the windiest street in the world. We really shouldn't have taken the time to drive down it because we were definitely cutting it close, but how could we not. And yes, we were late to the show, which has never happened to me before. I seriously thought they weren't going to let us in and that we would have wasted $30, and I was feeling really sick about it, but they answered our hopeful knocks. And there was another couple who were late and they showed us into the back of the theatre after the first scene. It was so nice to be seeing professional theatre again. It was really well done, not life-changing, but enjoyable. I've never actually fully read or seen this play, so I felt educated.

We dragged our weary feet home and fell into bed.

The next day we headed up to the Redwoods. First we drove through wine country, which was lovely in a golden way. I wished we had time to drive through Napa Valley or something, but getting to the Redwoods is quite a drive in itself. It was really enjoyable though, I drove most of the way up and winding through trees and mountains is fun. We saw some weird hippie stores on the way which was delightful. I really did enjoy the tree-hugging feeling; I certainly don't go to the extreme that a lot of people do, but it was nice to feel surrounded by people who had similar earth-loving feelings that I have.

The first thing we did was drive through a tree. It was definitely not as cool as I had imagined it would be. I guess my imagination is just too powerful because the redwoods did not live up to it. The forests were certainly beautiful and peaceful, and I Loved just being in a true forest again, but I did not feel dwarfed like I had been expecting. As soon as we could, we hopped out of the car and started hiking through the redwoods. Our destination had been the Avenue of Giants, but we weren't really sure when we were there, so in our enthusiasm we actually got out of the car a little too soon and spent a long time hiking in a forest of not particularly impressive redwoods. Well, the first 15 minutes were impressive, (I am standing in a tree here), but then we just hiked a looong time in regular trees. We just kept thinking, well we've got to be close to the top, after this hill we'll get there and then we can have a great view and head back. But after every last stretch, there was another one. It was hot, I didn't have enough unfrozen water, and there were TONS of mosquitos.

"From golden gate to roaring cliff-side..."

The week before we went to CA I would constantly get suggestions from random people on where I had to go. When I went in to get an oil change for my car a teenage employee relaxing behind the desk heard the man helping me mention that I was going to California, and though he had previously been silent, he immediately piped up that I had to go to the boardwalk at Santa Cruz. It was on our way to Monterey, so why not? When we arrived, the clouds suddenly disappeared, as if they'd never been, and we were surrounded by sunburnt swimwearing vacationers strolling around barefoot, whiling away the hours along the shore. The boardwalk was not exactly what I'd been expecting... it wasn't a boardwalk. There were no boards to walk on, just cement. It was like a mini amusement park along the beach. A very noisy, pricey, sticky amusement park crowded with kids running headlong towards anything that lit up and made noise. Well, I wasn't too impressed, but still told myself "it's one of the oldest boardwalks in America, you can at least appreciate that." Beth had never been on a ferris wheel, so to the wheel we went. We then stole a ride on the historic carousel, which I enjoyed. After that, we decided there was nothing left but to walk through the surf back to the car and continue on our journey.

Have I mentioned how exhausted we are at this point, the beginning of our trip? Unfortunately none of us had had enough sleep upon leaving Provo. Well, we're just in the mood to find a sunny spot of beach and sleep for an hour or two. Sadly, as soon as we left Santa Cruz, the sun left too and it was a bit chilly to be sleeping outside. We ended up driving the 17-mile drive at Monterey and soon ransacking the trunk of the car for anything that would aid in our sleeping endeavors. Beth's sleeping bag, Emily's blanket, and our respective jackets woud have to be enough. I have found that catching a nap somewhere will connect me with a place. It may sound weird, but after my Europe experience with Logan and Sylvia where we caught cat naps everywhere we went, I learned that I feel closer to a place if I've slept there. Or at least just sat and pondered there. So sleeping by the Pacific sounded great to me. The 17-mile drive is this drive which you have to pay to get into, and so there were hardly anyone on the beaches-- not to mention that it was kind of cold to be at the beach... So we had this pocket of sand all to ourselves. We climbed onto a big rock, laid out the sleeping bag and blanket, snuggled up, and napped, lulled by the waves. An hour flew by, and it was time to be going. The 17-mile drive is home to some outrageously expensive houses, the Lone Cypress, and seals (sea lions? I still don't know the difference.) If you look closely at the picture above, you can see a seal looking at you. They camouflage well.

By this point Beth is in love with the cypress trees.

We drove through Cannery Row a few times, but parking is ridiculous, so we eat elsewhere and return to grab some Starbucks later. I did not want to leave Starbucks. The drive home sounded unbearable, and I wasn't even the one who had to drive. Cannery Row looked so lovely and inviting. Starbucks always makes me feel comfortable, no matter where in the world it is. For some weird reason I always feel at home there and I love it.

We finally made it back home to the cats and books and hideaway bed.

We didn't make it out that early the next morning, which was a San Francisco day. Our first stop was the Palace of Fine Arts. We were loosely following an itinerary Logan had made for me because Logan knows what I like better than a lot of people. But first we got a wee bit lost (a common theme in our trip) and we drove around some really nice neighborhood for a while. I was really glad we did this time because we saw some beautiful San Franciscan streets. I again wished for the eyeball cameras because I was driving and couldn't take pictures. Honestly, gorgeous streets here where every house was in the same style but delightfully unique. We saw a parking spot so decided to just park and walk to the Palace. As soon as we got out we discovered the daunting stairs we'd be descending (and ultimately ascending), but did that stop us? Surprisingly no. You really can't see them in this picture to the right, just trust me, there were a ton of them. We were greeted by a truly beautiful view of the view though. Do you see that dome in the distance in the picture on the left? That was our destination. Straight downhill.


On our way, we caught our first view of the Golden Gate. It actually sent a thrill through me, Anne Shirley style.

Well, the walk was totally worth it, the Palace of Fine Arts is just a place that's beautiful, basically, it's not the art museum. It was built for a fair a looong time ago, meant to be torn down once the fair was over, but people liked it so much they decided to leave it. It looks Greek, and it is just one of those places I immediately love. We trudged back up the hills, and had very friendly encounters with non-tourists. I must say, people in San Francisco were really nice. The hippie influence? There were a few flowers painted on the stairs... Anyway, not fakey like I sometimes feel Utahns are, and just genuinely really nice and easygoing. I think I would love living there for a while...

"And the road a-winding goes..."

A couple of years ago I found myself repeatedly playing this game called Ten Fingers. In this game you say something you’ve never done, and everyone else who has done said thing puts a finger down. The winner/loser is ultimately the person who has experienced the least. This can be a good thing or bad thing, depending on who you are and what your fellow players are claiming they’ve never done. I was repeatedly the winner/loser, and I didn’t like that one bit. I’d never been to Disneyland/world, I’d never been the female lead in a show, I’d never been in a relationship, I’d never been to California. I felt like I hadn’t Lived. Since then I think I’ve been through a lot of good and bad, and though I’m still very inexperienced in some aspects I’ve conquered some of those Nevers in the past couple of years.

California is one of those Nevers that I’ve been trying to drive off to for a while. I’ve planned on going before just to have my fellow planner drop out on me. Well sometime during Winter semester, my friend Emily and I were lying on the Slab and she mentioned how she had never been to California and she’d always wanted to take off there, and I said “Me too, let’s go!” So we did. And my lovely roommate Beth came too. Three girls from New York, Pennsylvania, and Texas who’d never seen the Pacific had nothing else exciting planned for the summer. Honestly, I was dying to get out of Utah (I’ve been here all year, and won’t get away again until Christmas). I reasoned that this would absolutely be the best time to go. Who knows if I’ll live this far west again? I don’t have anyone dependent on me, I’ve got the time, and I have an Aunt and Uncle who live right outside of San Francisco, our destination of choice. (From my Ireland trip last summer I learned not to tackle too large of a geographical area at once, and to spend more time out of a car than in it, experiencing a place through the windows of a car is not satisfying.)

So early Tuesday morning, three very sleepy but excited girls piled into a car and we put the sun to our backs. It was a 13 hour drive, and things were going great. I quite enjoyed driving through the salt flats, it’s surreal and I was delighted to find a piece of modern art created by another man who was inspired by the surreality: Karl Momen, a Swedish artist, created the Tree of Utah. “A hymn to our universe, whose glory and dimension is beyond all myth and imagination.” Further along, people had written messages on the side of the road with rocks, and I was tempted to stop and create my own, but resisted. Nevada was Boring. But at least the road was straight and flat.




So far Beth had been sleeping in the back, but we woke her up to take the wheel and we crossed the border into California. The moment we did, the landscape was suddenly Gorgeous.We careened through mountaineous ranges of pines and pockets of sparkling lakes to the strains of "California" by Phantom Planet as loud as we could bear it. By some town in California there was this huge statue of a man bending down with a bowl, and I was the only one that saw it. I wasn't quick enough to take a picture, but I wish I had, it was really cool, and kind of random.

We made it to Oakland before the sun set, but promptly became very lost and very frustrated. We were all quite tired and were only too ready to find our destination: my Uncle Nick's and Aunt Jayne's house. We finally broke down and Beth went into a Safeway to get a map while I called my Uncle, admitting defeat. We were actually quite close, and in minutes we were finding a parking spot on this delightfully hilly, windy road crowded with houses. The neighbourhood cats followed us to the house. As they would continue to do every day when we dragged our weary feet to our temporary home in the middle of the night.

In general, I don't know my relatives well at all. Specifically, I didn't remember ever meeting my Aunt and Uncle, though I'm sure I have sometime years ago. Yes, I felt really awkward, but when do I not when I'm making small talk with people I don't know. I immediately liked them and loved their house. Books were everywhere. And then I looked into the study and literally half of the room was inaccessible because it was filled with PILES of books. Heavenly. I wish I'd taken a picture. These were obviously kindred spirits. I've never felt so immediately related to anyone else in my family. After chatting for a while my aunt, uncle, and cousin Aleck retired to their beds while the three of us planned for the next day. I fell asleep gazing at a huge, varied, incredible film collection sandwiched between more books.

On Wednesday we arose bright and early and drove south to Monterey. Devil's Slide was sadly closed due to cleaning up from winter's storms, but driving along the coast south of that along Route 1 was lovely. Our first stop: Pidgeon Point Lighthouse. My first lighthouse ever. The day was overcast, thrillingly foggy, and delightfully cool. Ideal weather for the summer, in my opinion. At times cool, but warming up quite nicely at other times. Definitely preferable to the current, stifling heat wave here in Utah. The lighthouse also housed a hostel. It all reminded me very much of Ireland. I soon decided that living on the California coast for a year would not be the worst thing in the world. We couldn't go to the top of the lighthouse, and so, alas, I could not re-enact "Candle on the Water" from Pete's Dragon. Another time. After wandering around, looking at seabirds and waves, we hopped back into the car. We passed an ollaliberry farm, but I was not quick enough to stop. Luckily, there was soon a U-Pick Strawberry farm, which turned out to be owned by the same people, and they sold their ollaliberry shortcake and pie there as well. We picked some strawberries for the road, ate ollaliberry shortcake, Beth revelled in the posters on the wall of the United Farm Workers Association. What are ollaliberries, you ask? Um, I'm not sure, but they look like big blackberries, and they're yummy.
One of my favorite things about this roadtrip is that there were three of us. We could do what we wanted, when we wanted to do it. Our only rule was that when you saw a sign or a road that you wanted to pursue and explore, vocalize that impulse and we'd do it. Hence the lighthouse, ollaliberries and strawberries, and historical general store. We continued on our way to Santa Cruz...

I never do this

but I'm going to write about someone specific in my blog. I am only doing this because it's all so outrageous that I can't believe it's my life, this person seriously is a movie character who stepped out of the silver screen right into the bedroom around the corner from me. Lucky me.

Let's call her Evanesce. Right from the introduction, kind of unbelievable, right? We haven't interacted much, but here's what I know:

She is very proud of her car. She refers to her car not as her car, but as her BMW. Why is someone who owns a BMW living in my gross house? On the day she moved in, Beth asked her, "is that your truck in the driveway?" (She was blocked in and needed to get out). "Oh no, that is NOT my car, I borrowed it to move and my BMW will be here tomorrow." She was very clear with us about the truck not being her car. Now we have a driveway which only one car fits in, if you park behind that car, the first car will be blocked in, which is a little bothersome. Therefore, the house rule is first come first served and everyone else parks in the parking lot right next to the house. It has worked very well. But this system is not good enough for Evanesce. She insists she wants to adhere to whatever we're doing now, but her BMW is consistently parked behind whoever is in the driveway and Beth must continuously ask her to move it at 4 in the morning when she goes to work. Her BMW is obviously too good for anywhere but the driveway, no matter who it inconveniences.

From the moment she moved in I have felt like I must be a revoltingly filthy person. She has made comments repeatedly about how we need to keep the house very CLEAN. I assure you, I am not, in fact, revoltingly filthy. But she makes me feel like I must be. She is anal about cleaning. My reaction? Live and let live, be as clean as you want and I will make sure that I respect that we live in the same space and not be inconsiderate of you, but I am a busy person and I will leave a dish in the sink from time to time, and my room can be as messy as I want it to be.

She wipes the toilet down with alcohol every time she uses it and hints that she would like us to do the same. Fat chance.

She spends a lot of the time in the bathroom and is scrupulously specific about how she looks.

She locks her bedroom door whenever she leaves it.

She is extremely skinny with long hair, latino, and I'm guessing she's thirty-something. Just so you can get a picture of her in your head.

Now I figure that we're only living together for a month and a half, and I am out of the house most of the day, so it's unlikely that we would have major problems. As I said, I live and let live. No, I may not be uber-friendly and ask all about her life, but I'm not mean either.

But I do like my sleep, and I do keep odd hours. I work until midnight every day, that means I never get to bed before 1 or 2, and I wake up at about 10, maybe later. (I am not in school, and plenty of sleep is certainly on the menu).

On Sunday I was awoken by Evanesce and Beth talking to each other loudly, Evanesce from her room, Beth from the bathroom which is right outside of my door. Sometimes I'm irrational when I wake up, especially if I have been woken up by something other than my alarm clock. I realize this and decided not to leave the room until Beth and Evanesce had left. I couldn't take a shower anyway since both of them were using the bathroom and I didn't want to say something I'd regret. The same thing happened yesterday morning. I was feeling rather civil for just having woken up and decided to address the situation right then instead of silently resenting Evanesce every time she woke me up. So I opened my door and said "Hey Evanesce, could I ask you a favor? I work every night until midnight, so I don't get to sleep until late, and probably will never wake up before 10, so I was wondering if you could just keep it down in the hallway in the mornings?" I acknowledged that the hours were weird, but I would really appreciate it. She said ok. Great, I had been nice, courteous, mature, I felt great.

Really, let your imagination run wild with this next part because I cannot nearly do it justice in the retelling.

This morning I was getting ready for my first job and she knocked on my door. She continued to pretty much attack me about commanding her to be quiet in her own house. She was so up in my face, yelling, slamming doors and then coming back out add more. She couldn't believe she had to deal with this stupidity, I was an idiot and I had better not dare to command her to do anything ever again. She would play her radio as loud as she wanted, she would talk as loud as she wanted, she would do whatever she wanted and she was commanding me to take it. She was talking a mile a minute. She did not have to listen to a twenty-year-old and if I continued to talk to her like that then I was going to have to repaint my walls. (I'm not sure what that meant, but it was very definitely a threat.) Two minutes after she said something she would say she hadn't said it, manipulating every word. I honestly have never felt so personally assaulted. It really shook me up. I was experiencing it, not believing it was actually happening, there could not be someone like this who actually existed, this sort of thing only happened in movies.

My wonderful roommate Beth came out shortly after Evanesce started in on me and she witnessed the whole thing and I am so glad. This is something which is so outrageous that I'm sure you think I'm exaggerating. Some of you I'm sure regard me as someone who adds a dramatic flare to every story I tell. I assure you, there is no need to make this more dramatic than it was. Ask Beth, she is a very diplomatic, non-aggressive personality who is extremely fair about everything. She agrees with me, there is something wrong with this girl. She heard how nicely I asked Evanesce if she could be quieter, and she heard the unbelievable response a day later. She suggested we not be home alone with her so each of us would always have a witness, and she suggested we lock our bedroom doors.

When I left the bathroom a bit ago, I saw that Evanesce was home. I immediately fled to my room, turned off the light, and locked the door. That was honestly my instinct, the last thing I want is to interact with her again. This is ridiculous.