Stickin' Around

Monday morning as I drove to school I was thinking about my future, and when I got here, I wrote this blog.  When I wrote it, the question was still speculative and slightly academic.  I thought I had months and months, maybe a year, to decide my future.  

I didn't.

I had about 24 hours.  

Monday afternoon, during collaboration, I found out that they had already hired someone with an eye toward giving them the GT position in another year (when the current teacher retires), and unless I spoke up fast, it would be assumed that I didn't want it. I don't think I knew how much I've been looking forward to teaching GT until I realized I might not have the opportunity after all.  

It was suddenly time to make the decision I'd been putting off for a year and that I'd meant to keep on putting off.  In the end it wasn't that hard.  Thoughts fell into place, and I acted on my gut instinct reinforced by some logic and prayer.  

Barring any unforeseen circumstances, I'll be staying in Utah for the next four or five years.  I'm going to start classes for my GT endorsement this fall, and I'm going to try and pound down  two independent study history courses this summer to work on my history endorsement.  I've talked to my department chair, my principal, and the current GT teacher and told them that I'm very interested in the position and not to rule me out, that I'm staying, that I'm serious, and that I'm willing to work hard and commit.  

I had some struggle looking at my Bucket List and seeing items like "Live in foreign country for at least a year."  That's much less likely to happen any time soon now.  But here is my reasoning:

I didn't have a specific dream picked out for after next year, just some vague ideas of things I could do if I decided that I wanted to, which I wasn't sure I did.  Most of the opportunities to live overseas that long would involve teaching TEFL, and many of the programs I've looked into are pretty lame.  I don't mind a cut in my living standards and salary, but I would mind stepping back into the role of assistant teacher who doesn't do any real teaching and who has no real influence.  I've been there; it's nowhere near as fulfilling as what I'm doing now, even if it was infinitely easier.

As I covered in Monday's blog, I can get a lot of the best things from both options as a teacher.  I can adventure during the summers, live in ecovillages, foreign countries, and travel to strange and new places.  Then I can come home to a career, a future, etc.  

Now, for the first time in years, I've got a five year plan.  I've got long term, specific, achievable goals again. It's a thrilling feeling.  I'm going to start learning and studying again, I've got things to prepare for, and I'm excited to start.  My immediate future is no longer the fuzzy question mark it's been for the past three years.  I've got things to plan and to make happen besides new dishes to cook, new hobbies to take up, and vague ideas of what may happen someday.  I'm going to live in the area, teach at this same junior high, work hard to get both my GT and history endorsements, and adventure the heck out of my free time. Of course, I should mention here that if The Man I'm Supposed To Marry shows up with a bouquet of flowers and whisks me away, I will totally drop all of this planning.  But, since TMISTM has been a little slow on making his entrance, I'm going to go ahead and plan a life I like and am excited about to live until he eventually shows up.  

So I'll be here.  You can count on me.  Save my phone number and address because they're going to stay the same.  Stability here I come.  

Day Six--Japan and The Drunk and the Bartender/Poet

Day Six was Wednesday April13.  It's beens so long since spring break I'd better start labeling dates.  Our train from Portland to Olympia left at about 6:30 p.m., so we were running out of time to see Portland.

It was a rainy day, which didn't surprise me at all.  Every time I told anyone that I was going to be travelling in the Northwest, they'd warn me that it was going to rain.  My own memories of the Northwest involve lots of rain.  Rain was what I expected.  What I hadn't expected was my accidentally leaving my raincoat at Gee's house in San Francisco.  So much for being prepared.  But I borrowed a scarf from Angie, wore my one pair of close-toed shoes, and made the best of it.

 For lunch, we walked to the Grilled Cheese Grill. There we ordered gourmet grilled cheese made in a trailer, and then ate it on the top level of an old British double-decker bus.

The ceiling on the upper level was very low, and you reached that upper level by climbing a steep, narrow staircase that made the ones on the Amtrak trains look modern and spacious.

The tables were handmade and covered with old yearbook photos from different years.  The sandwiches themselves were delicious.  The Grilled Cheese Grill has another location in Portland, and I guess that one is a school bus.

It was at the Grilled Cheese Grill that I saw the best vegan April Fool's Day joke ever.  I'll just let you read it and guffaw on your own.

Portland has a Japanese garden.  Portland has a beautiful Japanese garden.  Portland has a fantastic, gorgeous, very authentic, breathtaking Japanese garden.  

Angie, Allie, and I spent hours in the garden, looking at and photographing everything.  Growing up in the desert as I did, that much green in one place tends to send my heart into overload.  The amount of green in Japan used to make me cry, seriously, my traveling companions could confirm this.  And as we wandered through this beautiful, green, rainy garden overshadowed by Oregon's towering pines, I choked up again.   Beyond the level of green, the other thing that always impresses me about well-tended Japanese gardens, is the thorough attention to detail.  There isn't one patch of earth that hasn't been carefully tended to, thought about, and planned.  However, all that planning looks different than it would in a traditional western garden.  there are very few right angles and boxes and hedges in an oriental garden.  Instead, things are put together to flow, to be beautiful from every angle, and not just to put up an impressive front view.  You can look in every corner and see how it has been carefully touched just enough to enhance, but not erase or overpower, the potential that corner began with.  I always leave a garden like that feeling both deep peace and powerful motivation.  That is the kind of life I want to lead, one where every corner of my life has been touched and deliberately shaped, instead of being filled with the junk that get's tossed from the main of my life.  I want to to have meaning from every angle, and not just be impressive from someone standing in the right place.  I want to have created my character as carefully as the skilled Japanese gardener plans and tends his garden, working with what was already there, but transforming it thoroughly into a place of quiet, peaceful, living, energetic, thorough beauty.

Leaving philosophy out of it, the garden was beautiful and I loved it. After the garden we wandered about the city and saw Portlandia.  Normally I'm not one for modern statues, but the longer I looked at Portlandia, the more I liked her.  To quote Angie, "She's pretty bad-ass."

Then Angie and Shane took us to our last stop in Portland, a huuuuge hospital up on a hill that had the best view of Portland available.  And it was impressive.  I had to take two different panorama shots to get the whole thing.

Then Angie and Shane drove us to the impressive Portland train station where our Portland adventure had begun merely 48 hours ago, and, with some last hugs and farewells, it was time to move on.

The train ride to Olympia, WA, where Allie's parents live, is only about an hour and a half long.  After all the train riding we'd done, Allie and I were a bit puzzled:  What do you do with a train ride that's only an hour and a half?  That's hardly worth pulling out your book for!  As we sat there, smug veterans of Amtrak's system, we took note of the differences between this train, designed for short distances, and the ones we'd been traveling on.  It was only one level, had no sleeper cars, fewer bathrooms, and a cafe car that even included a bar facing the window.  There was also less foot room, smaller overhead compartments, and no option of checking luggage.  However, this train ride had internet access.

Our train ride went smoothly until we came to Kelso, Washington.  There's nothing much in Kelso, and the train's stop there was going to be very brief. The train was slowing down as we approached the station, when we stopped with a small jerk, just a few blocks away from our destination.  There seemed to be something wrong, and we saw several conductors get off the train looking worried.  After sitting there for five or ten minutes, a conductor came on and made the announcement. He apologized for the delay, and informed us that there had been an "individual" who appeared to be "inebriated" walking "alongside the tracks."  "We may have nicked him as we passed," he told us.  "The individual appears to be all right, but we are waiting for the paramedics."  Then he asked for any medical professionals on board to come help out.  Our initial irritation at the delay gave way to horror, then to relief, and then to incredulity.  Someone in our car said what we were all thinking, "Wait, how do you get NICKED by a TRAIN?"  So we sat on the tracks, watching police cars and paramedics drive by and wondering what was going on.  Then came another announcement:  The individual was being loaded on a stretcher (*gasp* from the passengers), but he was being .. a bit..."combative" and they are having some difficulty.  At this point the whole train is laughing in disbelief.  We heard a conductor passing through the isle at one point mutter to the man with him, "I'm not even sure he knows he was hit by a train."  We started speculating about whether we really did hit him, or whether he was just startled when a train passed right next to him and fell over.  We sat on the tracks for half an hour waiting for the police to give us the go ahead to proceed to the station.

When we finally moved the last few blocks to the Kelso station, we sat there for another half an hour.  Apparently when anything like this happens, someone from Amtrak has to come download the information and video (who knew?) from the train's equivalent to an airplane's black box.  Then we waited some more to get the go ahead phone call from an Amtrak official in some other city.

During all this sitting in Kelso, Allie and I decided that it was time to patronize the cafe car.  I brought my book and she brought her computer, and we sat at the bar eating our ice cream and sharing a cookie, facing the windows through which nothing but black could be seen now.  Eventually we struck up a conversation with the guy next to us at the bar.  The opening line was, of course, "Do you think he even knew he got hit?" and "Our train got nicked by a bum!" And that is how I ended up deep in conversation for an hour with a part time poet/part time bartender from Portland. As an English teacher, I couldn't resist the opportunity to talk to someone who was in the current poetry scene, hear their perspective, and judge for myself their level of sanity.  Not only that, but to be honest, striking up a meaningful conversation about poetry and philosophy with a mysterious stranger at the bar of a train made me feel like something straight out of a movie, and I milked it for all it was worth.  I drank my water, he drank his beer, and I got some free poetry of his out of it. Not to mention I can tell my students about the poet I met on the train.

Olympia at last! Allie condescended to declare this a decent train station.

When we finally got to Olympia, two hours after our scheduled arrival time, Allie's dad picked us up and took us to her home.  There he made us late night spaghetti, told me funny stories about my uncle, and then Allie I sacked out, grateful to have our own room and bed after sleeping on floors and couches and trains.

One last shot from the Japanese Garden.  Happy Cherry Blossom Festival everyone.

Subject to Change

Decision time on my future is coming up in the next year or so.  Do I stay where I am, put down roots, work towards bettering my career and my situation in life and contribute to my retirement?  Or do I pay off my car loan, and take my act on the road somewhere, live in a foreign country, work college student jobs, join an eco village or the peace corps, go back to school for cooking or hair styling or hop trains or something?

Here are my thoughts, very subject to change, this morning:

Stay.  I like my job, and I like my school.  If I go adventure I could always come back to teaching, but not here, not at this school, and there's no guarantee I'd get a job at all with the current economy.

Stay.  If I stay I will most likely get to teach debate and GT at this school.  That would be pretty freakin' awesome.  I will pick up an extra endorsement, get tenure, maybe eventually get a classroom with a window.

Stay.  If I am a teacher, I can always go live in a foreign country for two months during the summer, not work a college job because I'll have benefits and salary, and come back to a job.

Stay.  Utah may not be where I picture myself "ending up," but it's a pretty good place.  It's easy traveling distance of both home and adventure of many kinds.  It's fairly central positioning in the west means I can get several awesome places in 10-15 hours or less.  The people here are generally pretty good and nice and stuff.  The weather's not so bad, and there's lots of places to climb, skate, listen to good music, etc.

But.  What if I stay and it's the boring, easy way out that I took because I was scared to take a chance?  Wouldn't I be awesomer if I took off to Zambia with the Peace Corps for two years, or taught English in who knows where or something?  Shouldn't I go live in the desert and eat crickets with the hippies because I can?  I've got no husband or family to require me to settle down and be responsible, so shouldn't I go be crazy?  I've got the back up plan, the degree, the teaching certificate, the teaching experience, why should I miss out on this opportunity to be whatever crazy person I feel like being month to month?

On the other hand.  Staying would enable me to have some of the best of both worlds.  I could adventure like an adolescent in the summers, and still work toward my life and degree, etc.  In fact, because having a salary means that I don't have to work during the summers, that frees me up for two and a half months of pure adventure if I want.  That's a pretty good deal, right?

But.  If I stay, I may never get away like that during the summer.  If I start classes for another endorsement I'll have to stay in the summers and go to class.  I'd miss family reunions, etc., and I worry that one way or another, I'd never take off like I meant to.  I'm not this summer, and I originally had big plans to go work with women in India, etc.

Anyway, all of these thoughts may change tomorrow, and I'm definitely staying to teach at least one more year, so I have a long to time to keep thinking, but those are my thoughts this morning.

Day Five--Crazy Cats and Green Green Green!

I hate to say this, but I'm beginning to lose steam on this whole really detailed posts of my trip things.  It takes forever.  I have been back from a week, and my narrative is only up to day five of a ten day trip.  I think I'm going to change formats to more pictures and fewer words.  There are other things I want to blog about, like my Marijuana Free 420 Party, the ward talent show, and other stuff I've been meaning to say forever.  But if I follow my current pattern, I'll be blogging about my spring break from now to two weeks from now.  And to that I say, "Booger!"

So we're going to start going faster.  Some of you may  miss the detail; some of you may be thanking your lucky stars.  So here go, the somewhat shortened version of Day Five.

The morning of Day Five (Monday) was dominated by two things: Allie's and my quest for veggies and hummus, and the cats.  Let me just say that I like cats.  I grew up with cats and although the amount they shed has begun to alarm me more as I care more about my clothes and hair in my food, I still find them desirable cats.  Allie just doesn't like animals.  Really.  She and our roommate were talking about pets this week, and Al sees dogs as "dirty and dumb." Cats are less dumb, she admits, but she doesn't like them any better.  That being said, she handled the situation at Angie's remarkably well.  Angie has two cats, Zowie (sp?) and Dr. McGillikitty.  Zowie is all black and very skittish.  Dr McGillikity is a gorgeous cat, and at first I thought we were going to be great friends, until that morning.  Angie had to go to work at five, and Shane had class at seven, leaving us alone in their apartment with their cats.  Apparently having visitors turns the doctor into one grumpy cat.  Every time I came within five feet of him he would set up the low, whining growl that cats usually use as a prelude to more forceful measures to keep their personal space.  He would blockade the hallway, bathroom, or couch.  He would bully Zowie.  He was not a happy kitty.  So our getting ready that morning was accompanied by the nearly constant yowling of the cat.  Meanwhile, Zowie would hide under a table, chair or couch, and we'd have no idea she was there until we accidentally startled her by breathing.  Suddenly a black, furry shape would detach itself from a shadow by our feet and streak away across the room.  As soon as Angie or Shane came home, Dr. McGillikitty would come out and ask to be pet, all loves and smiles.  Zowie would jump up on Angie's lap and preen.  It took me the entire stay in Portland to get Zowie decently comfortable around me, to get McGillikitty to ask to be pet, and to figure out their crazy relationship in the slightest.  How Allie handled it with as good a grace as she did I don't know, especially after McGillikitty chewed the cord on her new duffel bag in two.

Dr. McGillikitty, looking peaceful and content.  I never saw this face again after this picture.

Besides our time spent marveling at the feline residents, our morning also included a quest for fresh veggies and hummus.  After eating rich, heavy food for days, we were craving something light and fresh and healthy.  But when we typed Angie's address into google maps and asked it for grocery stores near us, it became apparent that Angie and Shane live in a grocery wasteland.  With no exaggeration, they were at the center of a dead zone.  The map showed a ring of grocery stores that were all equally far away from where we were sitting comfortably on the couch.  But, our cravings were severe, so we set off in the direction of what we judged to be the closest one.  Besides vegetables, I was craving something whole wheat.  Four days of rich food, white bread, and white rice were starting to get to me.  Luckily, the closest grocery store was Whole Foods, which had ample vegetables, about 20 different kinds of hummus, and, best of all, bread samples.  Allie and I sat there "sampling" different types of bread for almost ten minutes.  Thick, fresh, dark break, full of seeds and wheat and all sorts of yummy things.

When Angie got home from work, we ladies headed out to Oregon's Old Historic Highway.  This offered us great views of the Columbia River Gorge, short hikes to multiple impressive waterfalls, a beautiful drive through Oregon's beautiful forests, and lots of time to giggle in the car.  Even the time Angie took the wrong road for half an hour proved a delightfully scenic side trip.  What always caught my eye was the green.  So much green.  I'd never seen green like that before I went to Japan, and I haven't seen it often since.  I spent all day geeking out about the size of the trees, the moss, and the green.  Here are some of the highlights:

The view.

I OWN waterfall one.

Waterfall Two

Did you know we're awesome?  We're pretty awesome.

Waterfall Two gets its portrait taken.

Multnomah Falls--the famous one!

On the edge.

Look Mom!  I'm dangling over a waterfall!

That evening the three of us decided on pizza and a movie.  A movie theater within walking distance of Angie's place was not only a $3 theater, but also had tables inside where you ate the pizza and drank the soda you purchased by the slice and pitcher.  After about 5 p.m. they don't allow minors in anymore, and that's when they start serving alcohol as well.  Angie, Allie, and I contented ourselves with orange soda.  I got jalapeños on my pizza for the first time ever.  It was pretty good.  Especially with plenty orange soda to wash it down.  The movie itself wasn't what I was expecting.  I walked in knowing nothing except the title, The Illusionist.  I didn't know I was walking into an animated French film that was a beautifully drawn silent movie that would make me cry.  I loved it, but I wish I'd had some time to prepare my expectations for that kind of depression.

I couldn't get any good pictures of the green on Day Five, but I got some good ones on Day Six--Japan and the Drunk, which should be up soon.

Day Four--A Return to Amtrak, a Journey to Portland

I slept great on the train the second time around.  Allie, however, did not.  She tossed and turned, and because I had let her have the window seat this time since I had it on the first train ride, she found herself blocked in and unable to reach the overhead compartments or restroom because I was sleeping like a log.  I felt bad about all of this in the morning.  I thought I was being generous by not hogging the window seat on both rides.

The train ride to Portland was fairly uneventful.  Allie and I were mostly hung out the sightseeing car (again).  Allie colored more pages in her Hello Kitty coloring book, and I read A LOT of Mansfield Park by Jane Austen.  Having read most of the usual Jane Austen novels--Pride and Prejudice, Emma, Sense and Sensibility, Persuasion--I thought I should try a new one.  My overall reaction was "meh."  It's not a new favorite, but it wasn't an unpleasant read.  It was much more moralistic than some of the others I've read, and the main character was perfect, with none of the fire or spark of Emma Woodhouse or Elizabeth Bennet.  She was soft spoken and never gave any trouble to anybody.  In fact, she didn't do much at all.  Which meant the book was mostly watching the side characters destroy their lives with their own shallowness and lack of morals.  Instructive, not really entertaining.

I got a good picture of the conductor, cap and all.  

Other highlights of the train ride included talking to a German engineering student, teaching Allie to play ERS, and eating a lot of Japanese snacks and candy.

Allie and I when we realized that this sightseeing car didn't have outlets at every table, like the one to San Francisco had.  This meant we couldn't start drafting our blogs and condemned me to several more hours of Mansfield Park.

But the most wondrous and magical part of this train ride was the scenery.  The train climbed through snowbound forests and foggy lakes and canyons so steep you were afraid to stand on that side of the train.  Sometimes you could see for miles, sometimes the trees towered over the train.  Sometimes the white of an icy mountain lake would stretch into the distance, sometimes the valleys were so full of fog and mist you could barely see the drop off next to the tracks.

There's a huge lake in that fog.  It kept disappearing behind trees, and this was the best shot I could get.

Trees towering over the double-decker train.  

As we left the mountains behind, the snow receded, and it was like that moment in The Wizard of Oz when Dorothy opens the door and the world becomes full of color.  The black and white and grey scenery of snow and trees and mist was replaced with green and brown forests, blue lakes, and green grass.  Eventually our path was paralleling the Columbia River, and that is an impressive sight all on its own.

When we pulled into the Portland Union Station that afternoon around three, we were surprised.  By this time, after 34 hours of train rides from Salt Lake City to San Francisco to Portland, Allie and I were becoming connoisseurs of train stations.  Allie would glance out the window and delcare, "That is not a train station," if a station didn't come up to snuff.  Her response when we saw Portland? "Now that's a train station." And boy howdy was it ever.  Tall ceilings, stone walls, graceful wooden benches. It made many of the other stations we'd been to look like lean-to's in back alleys.

In Portland we would be staying with Angie, who was one of my close friends growing up, and her husband, Shane, who is also from my hometown and went to my high school.  They've been together since their sophomore year.  Isn't that crazy and awesome?  I hadn't seen them since their wedding 3 1/2 years ago, so I was excited to catch up.  Angie had class (she's going to be an elementary school teacher), so Shane picked us up from the station.  He needed to do some homework himself, so he kindly offered to take our stuff to their apartment and then dropped us off at a place where we could lose ourselves in wonder until Angie got done with class:  Powell's Books.

Powell's Books is a gigantic book store, with tall shelves, maze-like rooms, and books new, used, and rare.  It has an in-house coffee shop, of course. (I thought it was interesting that they had shelves of books for sale inside the coffee shop.  Their choice of genres was also interesting.  The books in the coffee shop?  Romance and Graphic Novel.)  I've wanted to go to Powell's Books ever since Di went there years ago and bought me a philosophy themed water bottle.  Allie and I wandered around the store for close to three hours.

It took me forever to even decide what kind of book I wanted to buy. (Of course I was going to buy something!) There were thousands of interesting-looking books.  How could I walk away with one?  How could I pick?  Finally, after I started to feel very, very dazed and lost (The fact that spending 17 hours on a train had left me feeling like the ground was moving wasn't helping the daze.), I came to the conclusion.  I thought about things I had always wanted to know more about, not just things I wanted to seem to be into, or wanted to like, but things I actually had always wished I knew more about, and then I wandered up a few more floors.  There, in the nonfiction books, in the India (modern history) subsection, I sat down to examine the books on Gandhi.  I walked out with his autobiography and one other, much slimmer volume of some of his spiritual writings.  I bought them used, and got both for less than $15.    I'm half way through the autobiography now, and I'm not regretting that $15 or the books I left behind at all.

While we were there I ducked into the bathroom on one of the floors.  The toilet seat cover was covered with unusually inoffensive graffiti, but my favorite part by far was this:

It's a Doctor Who quote!!!!  In a bathroom!! And I recognized it just by the initials and the quote, which was not a catch phrase or a motto, just a quote from that one episode in season four that one time.  

After Allie and I met back up in the maze of shelves, we decided it would probably be best for our health to get outside and away from the books a bit.  Besides, this was a good chance to explore downtown Portland. So we set out for adventure in the setting sun.  On our adventure we found this elephant statue.

I don't know why I felt the need to be an awkward karate kid in this picture.  I just did.

Then we found the Chinese garden, which we had been thinking about paying for later, but I think we saw most of it from their windows.  We even got good pictures.  Portland's small Chinatown was lined with red lanterns and blooming Magnolia trees, which is an enchanting combination.

Who needs to pay to get in when you can get this view through the window?

When Angie got out of class she came to pick us up, and we drove to her and Shane's place to meet the cats and pick up Shane for dinner.  We went to a place called East Burn, which was good, and rather quirky.  There were things like Rabbit Schnitzel and Elk Meatloaf.  We had to have Shane, who graduated from a very nice culinary arts school, explain several words on the menu.  But the food was delicious, even if I couldn't pronounce the name of the cheese or the bread in the sandwich I ate.  Because it was Wednesday, and it is apparently a Wednesday tradition at the East Burn, a projector screen was set up and they started showing Dial M for Murder.  That was cool, except for the fact that they didn't turn the sound on.

After dinner we stayed up way to late reminiscing about the good old days (poor Allie).  Angie, taterbugs, and I used to be nearly inseparable partners in adventure.  So Angie and I spent time looking at old photos she had, reading poems the three of us had written together in high school, and even old notes she'd saved.  Angie is still one of the coolest, most talented, smartest, and most awesome people I know.

After a long day, Allie and I sacked out on Angie and Shane's couch and floor, but not before one of her cats (Doctor McGillikitty) had managed to chew apart the bungee cord on Allie's duffel bag, thereby revealing the personality we would later become quite familiar with.  But more on that when I write about Day Five--Crazy Cats and Green, Green, GREEN!

For What's Worth

Dear Public and Government,

I'm a junior high school teacher, and I say that class size DOES make a difference.  Today 11 students out of my fourth period class are at a track meet, leaving me with only 22 instead of 33.  Class is more quiet, instructions are heard, work is completed more quickly, and no one's asleep.  Some of my quieter students who rarely say a word, have actually come up to me to ask questions because I have the extra time.

My largest classes have 37 and 38 students.  There are only two or three empty desks during those classes.  My smallest classes have 31 and 33 students.  Because I can leave the back row empty, no one has to look past five other heads to see the board, and on average, they complete the work and lesson for the day with 10 minutes to spare, while my larger classes are working right up to the bell.

Class size matters.

Sincerely,

Miss E.

Day 3--Farewell to San Francisco

Sunday morning dawned sunny but still chilly.  Allie and I were going to be striking out on our own, without friend or guide, to find a church to go to.  We had looked up the nearest church service, and were glad to find out it was at 9 a.m.  Allie and I prefer morning church anyway, and this was especially convenient because it would allow us to get to church and still have the rest of the day to explore more of San Francisco before catching our train, the "Coast Starlight," that evening.

On the steps of Gee's house. Don't be fooled, we never went in the front door.  Their place was in the door to the right and down the basement hallway.

I was especially nervous for this outing, because I was playing the role of bus expert and guide.  Allie hasn't ridden public transit much, so I was the veteran.  While it's true that I've ridden a ton of public transit in cities from New York to Tokyo, every city is different and there are always unknown variables and stupid mistakes when you're on in an unfamiliar city with no knowledge of the landmarks, bus routes, etc.  Not only that, but I wanted Allie to have a good, stress-free experience with public transit.  She'd already watched us spend money on a taxi ride (her first) because the bus wasn't fast enough the afternoon before and she'd spent the evening shivering in the cold for 40 minutes waiting for a bus that had broken down.  This was my chance to redeem public transit a little in her eyes.  But it meant I had to be on my toes.  I used all the tricks I'd ever learned to minimize stupid mistakes that I'm usually too lazy to use.  I not only looked up the bus we would take, but also looked at shape of the route, the major streets it would cross, any landmarks that I might be able to see when we got close, and any that would let me know if we'd gone too far.  I asked for directions to double check that we were waiting at the right bus stop, and we arrived early, but not ridiculously so to catch our bus.  On the bus I wasn't very good company because I was constantly swiveling my head to check street signs and the bus marquee.  But it all paid off, and we got off at the exact right stop and walked straight to the church building, arriving half an hour early.  This meant that we had time to wander around a few blocks taking pictures of the houses.

The houses in San Francisco have been pictured in films, postcards, and TV shows, and I almost instantly fell in love with them.  If townhouses in Utah looked that unique, instead of being the uninteresting clones that they are, I'd be much more likely to take that real estate agent on the train's advice and buy one.

Gee and Kat picked us up from church and we headed out to a late brunch.  One of Gee's favorite things to take people to when they visit him is Dim Sum, which was ok by me.  I'd been out to Dim Sum with Gee in the past and knew what a treat I was in for.  Allie was a bit more apprehensive.  She's already been subjected to nearly three meals a day of expensive, deluxe Asian food, and she was getting a little leery of trying something new...again.  But I think she enjoyed herself.  Her crazy new food experience for the day was the prawns.  This meant she had to eat a whole, huge shrimp, legs, eyes, brain and all.  They're tricky little guys, and even I approach them with caution.  If you don't chew thoroughly, the little spiny legs get stuck and pricky in your throat, which is anything from appetizing.  But she dived in with good will and only a slightly nervous face.  It helped when we gave up trying to manipulate the odd shaped arthropods with our chopsticks and used our hands instead.

After Dim Sum, we headed to San Francisco's Japantown.  Their cherry-blossom festival was in full swing, and although it was only a few blocks long, it was still a lot of fun.  There was a pagoda, sort of, lots of street vendors, a mall full of Japanese shops, and the group was forced to hear tons of "When I was in Japan" memories from me.  A brand new Daiso had just opened up, and I wandered down every isle of that just to remind myself that, yes, Japanese dollar stores really are a million times better than ours.  I miss the stores.  While I was there I stocked up on a few of my favorite things like haichu, panda cookies, calpis, cc lemon, etc.  I did later find some cider drops, but I'd already exceeded my candy budget by then.  I know panda cookies and haichu aren't hard to find here, but they were much cheaper in the Japantown stores than in the international food stores here.  I rarely get to see calpis in the US, and I've never found cc lemon before.  So I was overjoyed, although Allie thought I was a bit silly as I sat there taking alternate sips of calpis and cc lemon because I couldn't decide which one to open first.

After leaving Japantown behind, Kat headed back to work again, and Gee, Allie, and I went to one of the next big San Francisco experiences:  Haight Street.  It was by far, the most "hippie" place I've ever been.  Heck, for the first time in my life, someone actually offered me drugs (I said no, Mom and Dad. I said no.) No one in high school or college ever even bothered to offer nerdy me any, not that that was a problem or anything, mind you. This marked an interesting first.  

I can't count how many smoke shops we wandered into and how many vintage clothing shops we browsed.  No ordinary thrift stores here, no, these were meticulously arranged by category and decade and had nothing from after the 80s.

I tried on some really crazy shoes at one of the thrift stores.

At one store, Gee and I were feeling all the old fur coats, and seeing if we could guess what kind of fur they were, when one coat stumped us.  It was too coarse to be mink or rabbit, and the wrong color for squirrel or bear. So we checked the tag.  Wolf.  Wolf!? I froze, coat in hand.  For some reason a wolf-skin coat bothered me much more than a squirrel, rabbit, or mink one.  It was huge, it was heavy, and it was very warm.  I couldn't believe it.  When was the last time anyone made a wolf-skin coat?  I quickly slipped it on and had Gee snap a picture so that we could send it to my sister, the one who works in Yellowstone and gets to hang out with wolf packs.  I'm still not sure if she's going disown me or not for this picture.

Allie got sick of browsing long before Gee and I did.  Allie likes to shop when she's going to spend money, but not when she isn't.  I'm the other way around.  I'll browse forever with no intention of buying, just talking and commenting, but as soon as I have to shop for something in particular, I very quickly get frustrated.  But eventually even Gee and I got tired of looking through the endless thrift stores and smoke shops and organic clothing stores.  From Haight Street we walked through Golden Gate Park back to the apartment.  Golden Gate Park IS BIG, about 1017 acres, 175 acres larger than Central Park (www.golden-gate-park.com). It's got a museum, the Conservatory of Flowers, the Academy of Sciences, two main lakes and several smaller ones.  It's big, and it's pretty.  I wish we'd had more time to explore, but by that time the sun was setting, it was getting cold, and we were getting hungry.  Although Allie tried to suggest something simple, cheap, and non-Asian for dinner (a sandwich shop or something), but the neighborhood where Gee and Kat live is affectionately known as "Little China," and isn't well populated with sandwich shops.  So we rounded off our edible tour of Asia with Thai food.  During our little more than 48-hour stay in SF we managed to eat Japanese, Indian, Chinese, and Thai food.  After dinner Gee and I walked to a crepe shop for some dessert. (Kat and Allie wussed out after the large dinner.  Gee and I are more the bottomless pit type.)  After a last chilly walk through San Francisco's streets, and a few more minutes hanging out at their place, it was time to go.  It shouldn't surprise anyone by now that Gee had to do some fancy driving to get us to the station in Emeryville at our target time (see his timing on the bridge, the bus, and the taxi on Day Two), but he got us there in plenty of time in the end.  A fantastic host to the last, he even hung out with us at the station until it was time to board our train, despite the fact it'd been a long day and it was already 10 p.m. (Another advantage of train travel is that they only recommend you show up half an hour before your train leaves.  Take that, planes!)

Golden Gate Park

As Allie and I settled into our seats on the Coast Starlight for our 17-hour journey to Portland, we felt like old hands at travel by train.  The couple behind us were traveling for the first time by Amtrak, and were asking many of the same questions we had just a few days before.  Allie and I exchanged knowing smiles, put our headphones on, leaned out seats back, adjusted the foot bar, adjusted the food pad, put our feet on the tray tables (common practice), curled up in our blankets (I had bought a $15 Amtrak "suvenier" blanket because I hadn't brought my own, and they make a big difference in how well you sleep on the train), adjusted our little pillows, and drifted off to sleep.

Of course I tried it on.  Of course it looked nothing like real dreads, especially not the short ones I'll have this summer, but of course it made me super excited anyway.  I'm peggin D-Day (yeah, I did.  Dread Day) at about June 3.

Golden Gate Park again.  It was really, really gorgeous.