Monday, August 13, 2007

A letter from San francisco....O




Ocean Beach
San Francisco being as it is on a bay is surrounded on three sides by water. Two of these sides are bay (and therefore ocean really) the third is pure ocean pounding in from Asia.

Jump on a number 31 bus and for one dollar fifty you are there, a fifteen-minute drive from the corner of Turk Street and Fillmore where we are staying. As you drive along Turk street you pass the police patrol installed to try to quell local gang activity and then you rise up to the University campus. From the top you can already see if the ocean is covered in fog, or clear, then you descend past the guy who does up old Dodges, Lincolns and Cadillacs and Turk becomes Balboa and takes you due west to the ocean.

The last section of the drive is through the residential area of Richmond where the street gets wider the houses lower and the colours more pastel and there is an inescapable feeling of suburban seaside town. It could be Margate, or san Tropez. At this point the ocean stretches from Cliff house far south into the haze of the hills behind half moon bay. A swath of green interrupts the villas and flats where Golden gate Park reaches the shore and then the sand dunes rise up and obscure the houses behind.

The shore forms an immense sweep of sand and wave, five lines of breakers and a constant rumble. The wind can be intense, the sea can be “kick ass cold” and when the sky is blue the sand is too hot to cross bare-foot, but it is beautiful. At the edge of the city, at the edge of the Pacific.

By the waters edge the sand is hard and compact, a perfect place to run but also to sit. Some people surf, some kayak, there are always one or two children screaming excitedly in the waves, always a sand picture. Some people sleep, others walk, there are sand gliders, tai chi classes, sunset gazes, today there was a group of Frisbee spinners and acrobats. Dogs love the place and many of San Francisco’s professional dog walkers come here, and there are always gulls, sometimes a hundred together standing, watching. Pelicans swoop low over the water in long unbroken chains and past Cliff House, at Baker Beach I followed a group of Dolphins. It’s forbidden to have fires on the beach but people do and at night it creates a primeval beauty.

Sometimes a storm changes the detritus strewn on the beach; this week suddenly there were hundreds of jellyfish, and a complete laundry basket, but you will always find broken shells, opened mussels, a crab part, a single shoe, feathers, here and there smooth pocket size pebbles and seaweed, in strands, in tangles, in single threads or uprooted matted embrace. If you are patient and search steadfastly you will find unbroken sand dollars.

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st michel de vax, France
Hi and welcome. Now and again i rewrite this profile; to keep things fresh. Today though i can't think of anything to say that seems relevant. I could talk about my first job - helping Norman the local milkman, or my most recent - helping Louise with her English - but that would miss out my experiences as Town Planner, Juggler and Refuse Collector. Most of these get their moment(s) somewhere inside and if you explore you’ll discover these and more, including life and times in England - where I’m from - and France - where i live. The blog is a ragbag of ideas, musings, insights, warnings (teenage children) advice (ditto) - yes i'm a dad - questions, fun and love - yes i'm married. It's all in here, more besides. There’s a section -"Did i miss anything?" - a place to start for a quick tour, alternatively sit back, dive in. Everything Red is a link – click and set off on a journey. There's a list of bloggers who have dropped in become part of it all; you can follow their name as it links to their own, excellent blogs. If you visit for two seconds or two years, leave a comment, say hello, become a friend. Thanks for visiting Chris x