The Journal of his Delights

Point Montara Light Station is approximately 25 miles south of San Francisco, and the hostel there has been my base for the past week. There’s nothing quite like waking up in the morning, grabbing something warm to eat/drink, and heading out to watch the ocean roar against the rocks for a time.

I hope to be here for a couple more days as I continue the home-hunt. Speaking of which, there’s one place in particular that I think would suit well; a 1-bedroom apartment on a lovely street and within walking distance of downtown Redwood City. I submitted an application today, but there’s some competition and it’s not certain I’ll get it. *fingers crossed*

It’s been a long day, and I don’t have much else to add. Here are some pictures from the hostel though. Enjoy…

P.S. The lighthouse is still in duty, and you can see it lit up at night.

A couple of quiet days have passed. Portland in the wintertime is very good for that. The rain and clouds urge you to stay indoors, keep warm, and laze about all day. It doesn’t help that I’m feeling in-between, a null point after one tide goes out and just before the next comes in. Something’s cooking, friends. Some good news on the horizon, but it’s not ready to break yet. Don’t want to jinx it.

What I’ve discovered though is that I’m not very good at sitting down to write when I’m not settled. I don’t have to be somewhere very long to settle in - witness Fukuoka - but I do need some sense of “this is where I am now.” And right now, I’m not really anywhere. So I’m using the time to rest, to plan, to gather myself up. I have a To Do list that’s a page long, but not the urgency to rush the items to completion.

Things are just as they are, and that’s… well… okay.

The sun was out in Eugene this morning, and it was fair skies all the way to Portland. An uneventful drive except for Trooper Decker, who was only doing his job as he handed me a speeding ticket (83 mph in a 65 zone). $242… ouch.

But I’m in Portland in a cafe drinking the biggest mug of hot chocolate I could find, and I just sent my resume off for what might well be a very interesting endeavor indeed.

In other news, I just re-read First Mindy, and I’m not all that happy with how it turned out. It may be that the honeymoon is over between me and the story; that enough time’s past for me to see it more clearly. That said, I think the Jacob story is still good. It needs work, but it fundamentally has more potential. We’ll see, I suppose. Oh, and I think I have a proper title for Jacob, but as it involves some structural re-writing, I’ll wait till that task’s done.

The title came to me while driving through the snow, so the road trip, as frustrating as it’s been, is at least bearing this fruit. And I now know what black ice and divine intervention combined feel like.

I’d been driving 10 hours but only got as far as Eugene in Oregon. The weather’s been absolutely horrible. Leaving Oakland it was fair skies and I thought I’d lucked out, but I soon discovered otherwise. Rainstorms, fog, snow flurries, and even a patch of black ice that had my heart in my throat and me cranking hard on the wheel desperate to get some grip on the front tires. It’s been a tough, tough drive, and even though I’m only two hours out of Portland, I’m exhausted. Not to mention a little tingling notion that maybe it would be a good idea to get off the road. I respect those notions. The car is undamaged, I’m okay if tired, and so I’m calling it a night and moving on tomorrow.

Speaking of bad weather, there are patches of Northern California that are likely to be without power till Thursday. Something like 500 miles of power lines came down in the recent storm.

You have the option when driving from Los Angeles to San Francisco of taking Highway 1, the Pacific Coast Highway (PCH). It’s a beautiful, scenic route that (appropriately enough) hugs the Pacific Ocean and provides you with a multitude of panoramic views. Just gorgeous.

That’s NOT what I did yesterday. Mostly because as lovely as PCH is, it’s so much longer than taking Highway 5, which is a direct shot up through the California central valley. The downside of taking Highway 5 is that it’s a direct shot up through the California central valley, which has to be one of the most boring drives in the United States. Don’t get me wrong, the central valley is a huge agricultural center and vital to both the California and U.S. economies. But there’s nothing to see for miles and miles and miles except for dust and the occasional cattle farm. (Time to switch off the car vents!) Continue Reading »

Just a heads up that I start a road trip from Los Angeles to San Francisco tomorrow. I’ll spend a couple of days there and then move on again to Portland. It should be fun - there are folks in the Bay Area that I haven’t seen in a long time. I also heard about a couple of really interesting job leads. Woohoo!

I can’t frickin’ believe that I’m still sick. Whatever this thing is, it is damn persistent. While the coughing has eased, I’ll still find myself trying to hack up a lung every once in a while. Also, my energy is really, really low, but that might also be from… well… everything. It’s not like a lot hasn’t been happening.

Of course, being in Portland, that didn’t keep me from visiting the Mothership, i.e. Powell’s City of Books. I’ve been wanting to pick up a copy of Mary Oliver’s Rules for the Dance. I adore Oliver’s poetry, and I’d heard good things about Rules. It’s an examination of meter in poetry, which might not sound interesting, except that it’s Oliver, and she’s clear and passionate and she knows how to dance. I’ve only just started the book, so this isn’t a review, but… oh… I’m so looking forward to delving deeper. Continue Reading »

Just a quick note to say that I’m in Portland again, but just for a week to visit. Thank goodness for frequent flyer miles.

Apparently it rained yesterday, so it was clear blue skies over Los Angeles and a very mild 16 degrees Celsius.

Tonight? Mansaf!

One of the features of the past month spent traveling the United States was the sheer quantity and quality of food. I ate so much! From the barbecue at Phillip’s in Los Angeles to my mother’s stuffed cabbage rolls to the culinary delights of the Bachmans in Portland. If anything, and this might be a first for me, I may have eaten too much. The boy is definitely feeling a bit big at the moment.

Probably nothing is more representative of the food experience than the night my family went to The Village. It’s a place in Duarte, a small city located east of Los Angeles, and it specializes in Middle Eastern food. They have a decent selection on their menu, but it’s rare - very rare - for my family to get past the appetizers (mezza). Here… let me demonstrate why… what you will see below is a sequence of stages, all part of the full mezza. Continue Reading »