BESIDES GETTING NAKED, WHAT ELSE HAPPENED?
I must admit that my first impressions of the vibe at Harbin, and the attitude of the people, weren't too favorable. Between the scrawny hippie with leathery skin and the lady with a ridiculously large smile, everyone seemed a bit... weird. Like they were absorbed in some intense New Age spiritual quest, and here they were at Harbin Hot Springs, and by God they would attain enlightenment!
And then there were the buildings around Harbin - huge teppees, white domes, curved temples. The mood at the pools was too serious, the tacky buildings were too eclectic. The whole scene had the appearance of being a forced gateway into pseudo-nirvana. But it's funny how our impression change quickly. After spending 30 minutes in the communal kitchen, I got a feel for what this place was really about, and my negative thoughts began to evaporate.
First off was a sign on the door: something about the "health department not allowing full nudity" in the kitchen. That's good. Inside, the kitchen was spacious, with multiple commercial refrigerators and every appliance you could ever want. I started chit-chatting with a girl who was preparing soup- when making food everyone relaxs a bit, becomes more sociable. I noticed, also, the incredible level of organization that goes into making the communal kitchen possible. Everyone had their cubby-hole of storage space, every food item was labelled with name and date. Signs ask us to clean up after ourselves, and watch your neighbor's food in the oven. You'd expect the communal kitchen to become one huge mess, what with dozens of people using it, but it remains spotless and clean. I was quite impressed. Ironically enough, because of strict rules of organization, this kind of thing remains possible.
In the afternoon, there were two events I was really looking forward to. First, there was a free yoga class around sunset. It was quite pleasant, although I found the use of pillows, strechy cords, and foam "bricks" a little over the top. Still, it's blissful to do yoga after a day of soaking; your engine's revving up, ask for more, more! Yoga and soaking seem to go hand in hand, and I was stoked they offered it at Harbin.
Then came the big night-time event: The Unconditional Dance Party! What's a dance party without a beer or two, though? The whole "no alcohol" rule seemed reasonable during the day, but I figured beer can hardly be called "alcohol"; so we enjoyed a pale ale while hiding in the car. Samantha and I then strolled confidently into the indoor event center, and we heard the boom-boom-boom of a bass line cranking. There were lights flashing in multi-colors, strobes blinking erratically, and a crowd 50 strong grooving madly on the floor. Hordes of young ladies and blokes were dancing, where they came from I do not know, because there were mostly middle-aged folks at the pools. But here was a genuine dance party, without the awkward sleazebag and slutty girl mixture evident in night clubs everywhere. Everyone was good-looking and just going off.
By 10PM the DJ had wrapped it up, but we were grateful. You can only burn steam for so long, when your body's limp from a day of hot springs relaxation. We walked out, the dancing sweat dried up on our skins, and felt the chilly nip of the night air. Brrrr! Turns out there was an outdoor shower next to our campground, so we decided to be brave and get cleaned up. The worst parts are taking off clothes and later putting them back on- but the actual shower was glorious, hot and powerful with a full view of the stars above.
Time for bed, and we curl up into the back of the Chevy Blazer. It's really cold. Sometimes I wish I'd make some money and afford the comforts of a room. It sure would be nice right now, not to mention more pleasurable with the girlfriend! Instead of being cramped in a tight space and barely warm. But then moments come along like the one in the hot shower, star-gazing hand in hand, which would never have happened if we'd invested in a comfortable room. It's all worth it for a few moments of raw nature, raw beauty.
The next morning we wake up at dawn. Our 24 hours is nearly up, and I've got to return for work. Of course, we have a final soak before getting on the road. Not too long or else we might feel sleepy. Just long enough to get that re-lax-ed feel, that warm tingly feeling... like the fountain of youth has finally given in, and found a little nook in your own body to reside in.
Tuesday, December 28, 2004
Harbin, part 2
HARBIN: FIRST IMPRESSIONS
We pull up to the gate at Harbin at 8:20AM. Right away I see a big sign that proclaims: NO drugs, alcohol, celphones, pets, cameras, or fire allowed at Harbin. Ok, a bit extreme, but I can handle that. We pay the gatekeeper $25 each and head straight to the hot tubs. I have no idea what to expect. We walk up the hill towards the pool area, and despite it being freezing cold (the sun doesn't get into the valley till 9:00AM) there's a naked guy walking around casually. Geez, I wonder how he's not cold. Those hot springs must really do the trick!
Then I see the sign "Dressing Room" above a door and head for it. Suddenly, I woman with a towel around her waist walks out of the door, which made me halt. You know that feeling when you almost walked into the restroom of the opposite sex? So I felt the simultaneous confusion of that embarrased feeling and the insecurity of not seeing a sign indicating Men's or Women's sides. Was this dressing room, uh, Co-ed?
Samantha took the initiative and walked into the dressing room, so I warily followed her, noting that there were both ladies and gentlemen in the room, in various levels of undress. Ok... I needed a moment to transition to this new reality, so I quickly looked around for a restroom, where I could escape into for some brief solitude. Buy myself an minute or two.
After a few minutes, I had adjusted psychologically, so I had a rinse-off in the shower, and then slithered my way into the large warm pool. Ahhhh. It felt great. I was happy that Samantha was there - I could just tag along with her. I can't imagine being a novice AND solo at one of these co-ed bath houses. Nudity in the dark hours of the night, outdoors in a remote hot spring or beach is one thing; nudity in the bright fluorescent lights of a bathroom is more shocking.
But everyone was extremely respectful. No one made eye contact. Everyone seemed to concentrate intensely on the point two feet in front of their bodies, whether it be for relaxation, a spiritual exercise, or just to keep from staring at others, I do not know. I suppose this is natural. Nudity among strangers requires a serious mood; everyone acts cool, non-chalant, like this is no big deal, so that everyone can remain comfortable.
I read an important sign: "Any sexual activity in and around the pools, or uninvited advances, will result in immediate expulsion from Harbin." I made a mental note not to make any sexual advances.
I crawled over to the hot plunge. Whereas the large warm pool was a balmy 100-102 degrees, the hot plunge is closer to 110 degrees fahrenheit. It is absurdly hot! I learned at Tassajara that you can't ease your way into extreme heat or cold; you have to be committed, and immerse yourself quickly. The sharp pain that blasts your skin (especially the feet) only backs off when you're all the way in the pool. Breath slow and deep, and try not to move very much, otherwise it hurts. I notice a white guy getting out of the water, his skin blistering red like that of a boiled lobster, up to where the water line touched his neck. Like a very intense sun burn. Damn it's hot! I leave after about 1 minute.
I crawled over to the cold plunge. Here is the reward! The flash of cold brings intense relief to my skin, whereas my internal temperature remains high. The result is a wonderful hot/cold tingle which made me feel like a million bucks. I got out of the pool and felt the volume of my lungs expanding, my body pumped up like a gorilla in heat - I could just bang my fists on my chest and shout like Tarzan! But I contain myself because this is a "sacred" environment. There are signs everywhere to be silent. So I breath deeply and go to the sauna.
And so it continued. - alternating between sauna, warm pool, hot and cold plunges. After 45 minutes my body was releasing so much heat I could comfortably walk around naked, even if it were snowing outside. All my muscles where tender and relaxed. I was slightly out of it though, not being used to these intense temperatures, so Samantha and I went for a walk, really enjoying the NorCal mountain air.
....to be continued
We pull up to the gate at Harbin at 8:20AM. Right away I see a big sign that proclaims: NO drugs, alcohol, celphones, pets, cameras, or fire allowed at Harbin. Ok, a bit extreme, but I can handle that. We pay the gatekeeper $25 each and head straight to the hot tubs. I have no idea what to expect. We walk up the hill towards the pool area, and despite it being freezing cold (the sun doesn't get into the valley till 9:00AM) there's a naked guy walking around casually. Geez, I wonder how he's not cold. Those hot springs must really do the trick!
Then I see the sign "Dressing Room" above a door and head for it. Suddenly, I woman with a towel around her waist walks out of the door, which made me halt. You know that feeling when you almost walked into the restroom of the opposite sex? So I felt the simultaneous confusion of that embarrased feeling and the insecurity of not seeing a sign indicating Men's or Women's sides. Was this dressing room, uh, Co-ed?
Samantha took the initiative and walked into the dressing room, so I warily followed her, noting that there were both ladies and gentlemen in the room, in various levels of undress. Ok... I needed a moment to transition to this new reality, so I quickly looked around for a restroom, where I could escape into for some brief solitude. Buy myself an minute or two.
After a few minutes, I had adjusted psychologically, so I had a rinse-off in the shower, and then slithered my way into the large warm pool. Ahhhh. It felt great. I was happy that Samantha was there - I could just tag along with her. I can't imagine being a novice AND solo at one of these co-ed bath houses. Nudity in the dark hours of the night, outdoors in a remote hot spring or beach is one thing; nudity in the bright fluorescent lights of a bathroom is more shocking.
But everyone was extremely respectful. No one made eye contact. Everyone seemed to concentrate intensely on the point two feet in front of their bodies, whether it be for relaxation, a spiritual exercise, or just to keep from staring at others, I do not know. I suppose this is natural. Nudity among strangers requires a serious mood; everyone acts cool, non-chalant, like this is no big deal, so that everyone can remain comfortable.
I read an important sign: "Any sexual activity in and around the pools, or uninvited advances, will result in immediate expulsion from Harbin." I made a mental note not to make any sexual advances.
I crawled over to the hot plunge. Whereas the large warm pool was a balmy 100-102 degrees, the hot plunge is closer to 110 degrees fahrenheit. It is absurdly hot! I learned at Tassajara that you can't ease your way into extreme heat or cold; you have to be committed, and immerse yourself quickly. The sharp pain that blasts your skin (especially the feet) only backs off when you're all the way in the pool. Breath slow and deep, and try not to move very much, otherwise it hurts. I notice a white guy getting out of the water, his skin blistering red like that of a boiled lobster, up to where the water line touched his neck. Like a very intense sun burn. Damn it's hot! I leave after about 1 minute.
I crawled over to the cold plunge. Here is the reward! The flash of cold brings intense relief to my skin, whereas my internal temperature remains high. The result is a wonderful hot/cold tingle which made me feel like a million bucks. I got out of the pool and felt the volume of my lungs expanding, my body pumped up like a gorilla in heat - I could just bang my fists on my chest and shout like Tarzan! But I contain myself because this is a "sacred" environment. There are signs everywhere to be silent. So I breath deeply and go to the sauna.
And so it continued. - alternating between sauna, warm pool, hot and cold plunges. After 45 minutes my body was releasing so much heat I could comfortably walk around naked, even if it were snowing outside. All my muscles where tender and relaxed. I was slightly out of it though, not being used to these intense temperatures, so Samantha and I went for a walk, really enjoying the NorCal mountain air.
....to be continued
Harbin, part 1
HOT AND COLD, ETERNAL YOUTH
Fountains of youth do exist! They're called hot springs. You can find them in most places where volcanic or tectonic activity exist, which makes California a hot springs haven.
I was first introduced to hot springs in Santa Barbara's backcountry, the "Big Caliente" springs. Along with watching the sunset over the ocean, laying in steaming water with stars shining above became my idea of relaxation.
I began to search for other hot springs. During my college years I'd often go snowboarding at Mammoth Mountain, a mountain which is actually a dormant volcano. Hence there were many popular and deserted hot springs in the area, and they became a mandatory stopping point to address both sore muscles and a general need for hedonism.
I discovered an interesting connection between hot springs and secluded beaches around the world: they are places where nudity suddenly becomes socially acceptable. It's quite remarkable how getting naked in the parking lot is frowned upon, but as soon as one walks two hundred feet to the sand or springs then nudity is just fine. I appreciate places that are an exception to the rule.
So far I was just an amateur at hot springs; dabbling in midnight dips with friends, mucking around with candles or beer. Then in September this year I received my initation into the "serious" world of soaking. I spent two weeks with my girlfriend Samantha at the Tassajara Zen Center, in the Big Sur wilderness area. There was hiking, waterfalls, and monks in black robes; but the standout in Tassajara was its bathhouse. We soaked at least twice daily and left feeling like royalty.
Back home in Morro Bay, I found out about a little spot called Franklin's Pond. Actually it's a warm swimming pool with concrete sides and a muddy bottom. Doesn't sound appealing? Well the water temperature is somewhere around perfect, leaving your body comfortable enough to flounder for hours, without getting too hot or cold. Healing properties of this pond are as of yet undocumented, but everyone from 90 year olds to injured athletes go there to soak.
The search hot springs continued. The next logical destination was Eselon, the famous (but pricey $$) center of alternative artists, dancers, and bodyworkers perched on the cliffs of Big Sur. I'd love to go there someday, but it's currenlty beyond my budget. Then Samantha made a new discovery: Harbin Hot Springs, north of San Fransisco.
"Harbin is like a poor man's Eselon." said our friend Stacey, who had been there several times. He raved about how great it was, but still, it was a 5 hour drive from Morro Bay. Then on the week of December 15th, it so happened that both Samantha and I had work off three days in a row. Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, perfect for a mid-week jaunt to Harbin with a quick stopover in SF City. "How about a little vacation to indulge in hot spring delight?" was Samantha's proposal.
I was stoked on the idea, but a skeptical little voice in my mind cried out. "It's probably an overpriced retreat with overrated warm tubs". My bank account was just above minimum bill-paying capability, and my credit card was maxed out. Plus, I had a ton of things to do at home.
But after one look at the website (http://www.harbin.org) the creative spark of imagination was on fire. Multiple hot & cold pools, free yoga classes, dance parties, a theatre with daily movies, all for $25/person camping fee? I read about the 150 full time residents, and realized Harbin was a community, not a tourist trap.
I had a vision: intact in the mountains of NorCal, a remnant of the 60's hippie/love movement, free-spirited and wonderful. Nostalgia for times the older generation speaks of, and my own curiosity for alternative experiences, made going to Harbin more and more irresistible.
The website tells us that although Harbin isn't a nudist colony, clothing-optional is the standard in the area. Nudity might repel some folks. But I consider any opportunity to be naked around strangers an interesting social experiment. Because nudity is taboo in our society, you never know how different groups of people will react together when they can see each other's private parts. Will it be awkward, indifferent, or wonderfully liberating? This was a chance to do some investigative work into human nature.
So the decision had to be made. How would I choose to experience the week of December 15th, 2004? Should I venture to an unique destination, and gamble that my financial distress would be paid off by good memories? Or should I stay home responsibly and do the chores that ensure my weekly sustenance? They say that our best attributes are also our greatest flaws, and I must admit that this is a weakness of mine: I just can't say No to a new experience. Take note. If anyone ever wants to take advantage of me, just suggest a crazy/unconvential adventure, and if there is a slim financial window that will support it, I probably won't back down. Heck, if there's memories to be had, and someone else is motivated to do it, then why shouldn't I? I'm just a sucker for life's interesting moments. So I called Samantha and packed my bags.
THE SAN FRANSISCO MAGIC
Driving north on the 101 Freeway towards San Fransisco, lovely Samantha in the passenger seat. I started calling some old friends who now live in San Fransisco. The essential component of any road trip is a surprise visit to an old friend who doesn't expect your visit. Alex P, from the UCSB tribe of free-spirited artists and globetrotters, answered his phone. "Yeah Beadle come over and check out my new apartment in the Castro!" We'll be there in two hours.
After meandering ten times through downtown SF in the confused stupor of country bumpkins, or that of any tourists unfamiliar with a big city, we finally find a convenient parking spot on Castro Avenue. It's a beautiful warm sunny day. Contrary to what everyone says about SF's foggy cold weather, every time I visit the weather is impeccable, like the city is trying to lure me back more often, reeling me in with its gemstones of sunshine. "Can a city exert that kind of power? Could it really be a conscious entity, one which chooses its inhabitants?" I wonder. That might explain why every city has its own identity.
We find Alex's apartment and stroll right in. We climb three sets of near-vertical stairs to reach the flat, just like in the movies. The apartment is unbelievable, classic Victorian style with a modern finish. Alex is passed out on his mattress. I jump on him in familiar Beadle-style greeting. "What's UP BUDDY!!" Evidently Alex and company had a big party last night, and he was having trouble getting out of bed. Two of his roommates were crashed on the couch. It's 4PM - shouldn't they have recovered by now? But hey, what do I know about big city parties.
"25 bottles of wine, a lot of good food. Yeah man it was the best." Alex nods, and tells us about the party in his unshakeably charismatic tone. Samantha and I hear about his endeavors in wonder. We take a tour of the pad, and Alex now talks about his landlord. "He's a Marxist-theory professor, an old guy with amazing long white hair, and he charges us two-thirds the market value for the rent. Pretty cool, huh?" What a great landlord. The tour ends on the rooftop with a great view of the city. The orange light glinted over the stacked rooftops of the city. Whereas endless rows of buildings are typically a sore sight a nature-boy like myself, I was surprised at how beautiful the architectural ensemble was, a Victorian symphony of three-story homes.
"See, the street down there?" Alex points his finger towards the hustle-bustle of the traffic. "The pizza shop I work for is across from the Castro Theatre."
The Castro was, incidentally, the setting for the Big Bang of the '60s gay movement, the beginning of a worldwide shift in perception towards homosexuals, the dialogue of which continued in this year's presidential elections: shall we forbid or accept gay marriage? I didn't expect to find the answer to such a polemic social question in my brief 3 hour visit to the Castro.
We walked down the street to the pizza shop. Alex was about to start his night shift of pizza deliveries, wearing a plush coat and red scarf, walking with the enthusiastic gait of an award-winning delivery boy. If should a thing exists, then Alex deserves it. He handed us a big slice of gourmet veggie pizza, then walked out the door with two boxes.
As I ate my artichoke & mushroom pizza, I thought. "What a funny coincidence. After graduating college, I was also working at a pizza shop and a catering job." (Side note: Alex is also working at a catering job) We're both graduates from UCSB, with more than enough qualifications to get a full time job. So why do we choose this unglorious lifestyle?" It's all about the flexible vagabondhood I guess. We have good food, just enough money coming in to pay simple bills, and ample time for the things we live for: surfing, sailing, music, writing. A refined version of being a bum.
Soon I ended my daydreams, and left Alex P and the Castro behind, going in the direction of the Golden Gate Bridge. It was nighttime, the lights of the city shimmered over the Bay, and then we went around a corner and it was all gone. After an hour and a half we were in mountain roads, slowly curving around tight corners, just keeping my eyelids open by willpower. We weren't too far from Harbin, but we pulled the Chevy Blazer into a side street, made a cozy bed of blankets and sleeping bags, and passed out until dawn.
...to be continued
Fountains of youth do exist! They're called hot springs. You can find them in most places where volcanic or tectonic activity exist, which makes California a hot springs haven.
I was first introduced to hot springs in Santa Barbara's backcountry, the "Big Caliente" springs. Along with watching the sunset over the ocean, laying in steaming water with stars shining above became my idea of relaxation.
I began to search for other hot springs. During my college years I'd often go snowboarding at Mammoth Mountain, a mountain which is actually a dormant volcano. Hence there were many popular and deserted hot springs in the area, and they became a mandatory stopping point to address both sore muscles and a general need for hedonism.
I discovered an interesting connection between hot springs and secluded beaches around the world: they are places where nudity suddenly becomes socially acceptable. It's quite remarkable how getting naked in the parking lot is frowned upon, but as soon as one walks two hundred feet to the sand or springs then nudity is just fine. I appreciate places that are an exception to the rule.
So far I was just an amateur at hot springs; dabbling in midnight dips with friends, mucking around with candles or beer. Then in September this year I received my initation into the "serious" world of soaking. I spent two weeks with my girlfriend Samantha at the Tassajara Zen Center, in the Big Sur wilderness area. There was hiking, waterfalls, and monks in black robes; but the standout in Tassajara was its bathhouse. We soaked at least twice daily and left feeling like royalty.
Back home in Morro Bay, I found out about a little spot called Franklin's Pond. Actually it's a warm swimming pool with concrete sides and a muddy bottom. Doesn't sound appealing? Well the water temperature is somewhere around perfect, leaving your body comfortable enough to flounder for hours, without getting too hot or cold. Healing properties of this pond are as of yet undocumented, but everyone from 90 year olds to injured athletes go there to soak.
The search hot springs continued. The next logical destination was Eselon, the famous (but pricey $$) center of alternative artists, dancers, and bodyworkers perched on the cliffs of Big Sur. I'd love to go there someday, but it's currenlty beyond my budget. Then Samantha made a new discovery: Harbin Hot Springs, north of San Fransisco.
"Harbin is like a poor man's Eselon." said our friend Stacey, who had been there several times. He raved about how great it was, but still, it was a 5 hour drive from Morro Bay. Then on the week of December 15th, it so happened that both Samantha and I had work off three days in a row. Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, perfect for a mid-week jaunt to Harbin with a quick stopover in SF City. "How about a little vacation to indulge in hot spring delight?" was Samantha's proposal.
I was stoked on the idea, but a skeptical little voice in my mind cried out. "It's probably an overpriced retreat with overrated warm tubs". My bank account was just above minimum bill-paying capability, and my credit card was maxed out. Plus, I had a ton of things to do at home.
But after one look at the website (http://www.harbin.org) the creative spark of imagination was on fire. Multiple hot & cold pools, free yoga classes, dance parties, a theatre with daily movies, all for $25/person camping fee? I read about the 150 full time residents, and realized Harbin was a community, not a tourist trap.
I had a vision: intact in the mountains of NorCal, a remnant of the 60's hippie/love movement, free-spirited and wonderful. Nostalgia for times the older generation speaks of, and my own curiosity for alternative experiences, made going to Harbin more and more irresistible.
The website tells us that although Harbin isn't a nudist colony, clothing-optional is the standard in the area. Nudity might repel some folks. But I consider any opportunity to be naked around strangers an interesting social experiment. Because nudity is taboo in our society, you never know how different groups of people will react together when they can see each other's private parts. Will it be awkward, indifferent, or wonderfully liberating? This was a chance to do some investigative work into human nature.
So the decision had to be made. How would I choose to experience the week of December 15th, 2004? Should I venture to an unique destination, and gamble that my financial distress would be paid off by good memories? Or should I stay home responsibly and do the chores that ensure my weekly sustenance? They say that our best attributes are also our greatest flaws, and I must admit that this is a weakness of mine: I just can't say No to a new experience. Take note. If anyone ever wants to take advantage of me, just suggest a crazy/unconvential adventure, and if there is a slim financial window that will support it, I probably won't back down. Heck, if there's memories to be had, and someone else is motivated to do it, then why shouldn't I? I'm just a sucker for life's interesting moments. So I called Samantha and packed my bags.
THE SAN FRANSISCO MAGIC
Driving north on the 101 Freeway towards San Fransisco, lovely Samantha in the passenger seat. I started calling some old friends who now live in San Fransisco. The essential component of any road trip is a surprise visit to an old friend who doesn't expect your visit. Alex P, from the UCSB tribe of free-spirited artists and globetrotters, answered his phone. "Yeah Beadle come over and check out my new apartment in the Castro!" We'll be there in two hours.
After meandering ten times through downtown SF in the confused stupor of country bumpkins, or that of any tourists unfamiliar with a big city, we finally find a convenient parking spot on Castro Avenue. It's a beautiful warm sunny day. Contrary to what everyone says about SF's foggy cold weather, every time I visit the weather is impeccable, like the city is trying to lure me back more often, reeling me in with its gemstones of sunshine. "Can a city exert that kind of power? Could it really be a conscious entity, one which chooses its inhabitants?" I wonder. That might explain why every city has its own identity.
We find Alex's apartment and stroll right in. We climb three sets of near-vertical stairs to reach the flat, just like in the movies. The apartment is unbelievable, classic Victorian style with a modern finish. Alex is passed out on his mattress. I jump on him in familiar Beadle-style greeting. "What's UP BUDDY!!" Evidently Alex and company had a big party last night, and he was having trouble getting out of bed. Two of his roommates were crashed on the couch. It's 4PM - shouldn't they have recovered by now? But hey, what do I know about big city parties.
"25 bottles of wine, a lot of good food. Yeah man it was the best." Alex nods, and tells us about the party in his unshakeably charismatic tone. Samantha and I hear about his endeavors in wonder. We take a tour of the pad, and Alex now talks about his landlord. "He's a Marxist-theory professor, an old guy with amazing long white hair, and he charges us two-thirds the market value for the rent. Pretty cool, huh?" What a great landlord. The tour ends on the rooftop with a great view of the city. The orange light glinted over the stacked rooftops of the city. Whereas endless rows of buildings are typically a sore sight a nature-boy like myself, I was surprised at how beautiful the architectural ensemble was, a Victorian symphony of three-story homes.
"See, the street down there?" Alex points his finger towards the hustle-bustle of the traffic. "The pizza shop I work for is across from the Castro Theatre."
The Castro was, incidentally, the setting for the Big Bang of the '60s gay movement, the beginning of a worldwide shift in perception towards homosexuals, the dialogue of which continued in this year's presidential elections: shall we forbid or accept gay marriage? I didn't expect to find the answer to such a polemic social question in my brief 3 hour visit to the Castro.
We walked down the street to the pizza shop. Alex was about to start his night shift of pizza deliveries, wearing a plush coat and red scarf, walking with the enthusiastic gait of an award-winning delivery boy. If should a thing exists, then Alex deserves it. He handed us a big slice of gourmet veggie pizza, then walked out the door with two boxes.
As I ate my artichoke & mushroom pizza, I thought. "What a funny coincidence. After graduating college, I was also working at a pizza shop and a catering job." (Side note: Alex is also working at a catering job) We're both graduates from UCSB, with more than enough qualifications to get a full time job. So why do we choose this unglorious lifestyle?" It's all about the flexible vagabondhood I guess. We have good food, just enough money coming in to pay simple bills, and ample time for the things we live for: surfing, sailing, music, writing. A refined version of being a bum.
Soon I ended my daydreams, and left Alex P and the Castro behind, going in the direction of the Golden Gate Bridge. It was nighttime, the lights of the city shimmered over the Bay, and then we went around a corner and it was all gone. After an hour and a half we were in mountain roads, slowly curving around tight corners, just keeping my eyelids open by willpower. We weren't too far from Harbin, but we pulled the Chevy Blazer into a side street, made a cozy bed of blankets and sleeping bags, and passed out until dawn.
...to be continued
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