We traveled from Sacramento on Amtrak. We were traveling with women of all ages, including an eleven-year-old and her collection of Polly Pockets (had to throw the pic in of the Pocket girls all laid out on the dining car table, two in significant dialogue). As someone who's direly afraid of riding in cars (I blame an ex-boyfriend who claimed he'd once taken a speed racer course and would scare the bejeezus out of me by whipping in and out of traffic), the train offers such a lovely way to relax and enjoy the view--and the people. Helpful matronly women letting young college kids know when their stop arrived, kids running down aisles and stopping to smile at other kids they don't know--"hey, I have no clue who you are, but we're on a train together, so isn't this awesome?", and giggling sorority sisters yacking about--well, about yacking the night before--but still, they were sweet, if not a little hung over.
We headed out from Sacramento and rocked along for miles, passing sloughs, wetlands, the Mothball Fleet, and my favorite, the S&H sugar refinery, until we transfered to a bus to get us into the city proper.
Once there, we were convinced by the younger people in our group to tug our luggage along behind us as we explored Pier 39 and the Maritime Museum, including the historic boats there. Note to self: insist on dropping off luggage at hotel prior to sightseeing. Rolling suitcases may not weigh much, but when rolled over other tourist's toes, can cause not-so-happy reactions. That said, plenty of people stopped to help us lift our bags up gangplanks, or joke with us about how San Francisco has so much to offer one doesn't want to spend a moment in the hotel. Shall comment on other reasons why one wouldn't want to spend much time in hotel later.When we finally arrived at our hotel, with me exhausted and now bearing several new blisters, I realized why I should always be the one to make the hotel arrangements. Some in our group stay at this hotel often, primarily due to its cost (or lack of) and proximity to the event we had planned to attend that night. Me, I'd rather spend what hard-earned money I have on a nice hotel and take a bus. Don't get me wrong--I'm no wimp. I was raised on a farm and can handle dirt and critters, but there was a spider between my sheets. A big, dark brown, napping spider. As my friend pointed out, at least we knew since the spider was alive that the building was "green." I shot her a look and grumbled to myself that I'd almost prefer to live in a toxic sludge. I wanted to call the front desk, but my mom grabbed a tissue and tossed it out the door. Live long and prosper, spider, just not in my bed.
A quick trip back to Pier 39 for dinner was in order, followed by a contemporary ballet performance at a fantastic venue on an old wharf. We walked back to the hotel afterward, chilled but happy. There's something I love about walking the residential streets of a city at night. There's a sweet quietude about the place that only hours ago had been bustling with life and activity. Living in a small town we don't get much of the mix of residential and city life, and I enjoy the experience every time. We came to the end of the residential street, and there at the corner, a group of men walked past us, headed to the mini-mart. One of them stopped, turned back, and flashed us a huge grin and said, "Happy Mother's Day, ladies." With ten minutes until the official start of Mother's Day, we felt blessed by this stranger's heartfelt wish.
Breakfast at the Squat & Gobble came before a visit to the aquarium, where I fell in love with the jellyfish and the bat rays. After that, we headed home.What all of us found inspiring was that every time we turned around, someone was being kind or helpful. A young English man pointed out our bus (hidden behind a tour monstrosity), a shabbily dressed man overheard me muttering about not knowing where to catch a taxi and stopped collecting recyclables from the bin to point out the best spot on my map, and an East Indian woman, who spoke no English, communicated with my mother in sign language about the love of being a mother. I may have disagreed with a spider over who should nap in the hotel bed, have ended up with more blisters on my feet than Band-Aids, and have freaked out over my missing bus, but I came home from this short trip filled to the brim with the kindness of others.
Posts
