The Lag

Weeks after my return, I am still decompressing and getting myself back on track.  Jet lag, and a vicious sinus infection don’t help.  I am happy to be home.  Winter is coming soon and everything is peaceful.  I’m reconnecting with neighbors, friends, my house, garden, and cat. After seeing so many loved ones I wake up everyday thinking I should check in with this one or those ones.  I half expect them to call and make a plan with me.  My mind is away from me.  I’m imagining houses, cities, breakfasts, pets, conversations, tones of voice.  I could call, and I do. But I am here now.  I’ll get the rest of these photos posted, then when I write it will be about being here in Sydney.

We left San Francisco and took the BART train under water to Oakland to see our old, dear, friends Andy and Hulya.  We were friends in college and shared a house in Santa Cruz after that.  Over the years, our lives have evolved separately, but our kinship has remained strong.
We had less than 24 hours with them :(

Easter - no kids, no bunnies, but we did have See's chocolates and Nocci!

     

Early next morning we rented a car and drove about 2 hours south to see the Ross-Clans, and the Clancy-Koch hub.  It is always a strange deja vu to be in Santa Cruz but since we only had a little more than two days there, this time we didn't even see the town.  We stayed in the suburban south-east, got a little hike and cliff walk in, and had sister time/family time.

Sharon made us Lemon Drops with the Meyer lemons dripping from her tree.  Yum! and also, dangerous!

at Bree and Steve's.  Smokie Joe ruled the day!

Sharon and Joel's puppy, Shane, looking for love

Lilah the dog lover and all around sweetheart!

Lilah's dog Ginger looking regal after her cut and wash!

David's "famous" guacamole and mixed nosh at Sharon's

Sharon still has the patchwork pillow I made of the 7 sisters

Then we blazed down highway 101 to Barstow.  Barstow is basically a turn in the road, from south to east.  There is nothing there but trucks, lost people, outlet malls, and a place to sleep.  The drive was long and tiring, but shockingly beautiful.  Spring was just spreading over the rocks and hills around it, blasting out bright shades of green, yellow and orange against the blue sky.  I took rapid fire photos out the window hoping a few would be more than just blurs.

brilliant rolling hills

farmland on the 101 to Barstow

strange signs of civilization in the desert

In Arizona we stayed one night in Flagstaff and two nights in Prescott Valley with David's parents.  We got to Flagstaff at about one o'clock and were overwhelmed by memories (good and bad) of 14 years of life there.  The girls growing up, David's years at NAU, traffic, snow storms, isolation, struggle, friendships, adventures, all came flooding back in a physical memory and it hit us like a subterranean shockwave.  So, out of reflex (lol), we pulled off the road, into a strip mall.  David got enchiladas! at Fiesta Burrito, which hadn't changed a bit in seven years (yay!) and I drifted, automatically, into JoAnn Fabrics!  I'm not ashamed to say it.  They were having 40% off and I loaded up on nothing but threads which are already so much cheaper in the US even when they are not on sale, and they don't take up much room in the suitcase.  So, it was a good, quick stop.

me and Lisa - 2 middle-aged artsy badasses 

We headed straight for the Cohen/Grodman house after our shopping.  That evening, Lisa had a potluck gathering for us.  This was so great because it was the only way to see a bunch of friends in one short visit.  It was painful to say hello and goodbye to so many people who mean so much to me.  I can't describe the extent of it, but it was like being allowed to come back from the dead on the condition that you die again after a few hours.  Of course, it felt intense and wonderful, but also incomplete and frustrating.  I worried that I wasn't allowing enough time to each person.  I also felt bad about the people that I was not able to see.  But I was also so grateful and touched.  I am so thankful for those good souls, and the fact that they care, want, and try, to stay connected.

further back in my history, I am still clinging to their warmth and brilliance - Marilya and Erika

a contingent from the BBE (best bookgroup ever). I will have to write a whole blog post just about them xo

The next day we drove two hours south to David's parents' house.  Not much had changed there either.  There were more new sub-divisions filling the flat valleys and creeping up the hills, but they blended, just like the old ones, into the grey, beige, and yellow dirt.  We sat, and talked, and ate with Barbara and Stewart.  We questioned each other for updates and details, trying to fill and get filled in, but mostly we just soaked up each others company.  Quietly, poignantly.

us with Stewart and Barbara in their backyard sunshine and shadows. We are grownup children.

David walking in their neighborhood

Monday, early morning, we took a plane from Phoenix to New Orleans.  At this point in the trip, we were exhausted, mentally and physically, and both just wanted to go home.  But David had some important talks to give at the conference there and I figured I could just sleep in the hotel if worse came to worst.  Neither of us had ever been there, but had a vague sense of it from Mardi Gras, music, and movies.  We were curious to see for ourselves remnants of its history and its condition post hurricane Katrina.  It turned out to be so much more than I expected.  I was very taken in by its charm.  I was able to ignore and avoid the partying tourists and noisy buskers for the most part. Instead I focused on quiet experiences with the neighborhoods, the buildings, food, street musicians, churches, art, and easygoing nature of the locals.

us down by the Mississippi River!

     

view of the street from our hotel room

old small houses typical of the old French Quarter neighborhood away from the more touristy part

live upstairs, shop or work downstairs. plus, angels on the balcony

"Not today Satan!"  I wish I had bought that!

From the Ogden Museum of Southern Art.
Benny Andrews 

        

different parts of the city's history shown in art
Joan of Arc

One morning in the Lafayette Cemetery got me thinking that the history of a city is like our own individual histories.  There is so much to know about both...We have our plots of land, where we are located, our spot in the world.  We have boundaries, and centers, and interchanges.  We have our layers deep and superficial, scarred, tragic on the one hand, brilliant and celebrated on the other.

Beautiful home - not so beautiful section on the right - former slave quarters
almost all of these large homes had them. A reminder of the evil of greed

Lafayette Cemetery.  Family bones layered on top of one another.
lots of history and still in use

It's all about being social creatures innit?  Some of it is practical, pragmatic.  We need each other to share the work of survival.  Some of it is emotional.  We don't want to be alone and we need to share our joys and sorrows and be told that they are valid.  Some of it is just understanding the past so we can know where we are and which way to go next.

St. Theresa?

caged angel

mere human

"neither the choice of religion nor the accident of color is an obstacle to opportunity and advancement..."
1970, American South, government official!