Travel – Page 3 – unigon pics

California Coast Road-trip

I drove up out of Sunnyvale taking Highway 1 once I was free of San Francisco north of Golden Gate Bridge. Highway 1, for the most part, hugs the coast meandering its way past scenic cliffs and towns of a few hundred inhabitants. The weather this past week has been less than ideal, the rain is harder, colder rain than Seattle typically experiences. It is with a sad nod and pun that it has dampened my spirits somewhat. Fortunately, today saw glimpses of blue sky between the storm clouds. There were moments, as I climbed up hills on a bend, that all I could see was blue sky; it gave me the sense that I was going drive into the sky itself. As is normal to my wont, I took an unplanned left turn dropping in on Point Arena Lighthouse with its unparalleled views from some 145-feet up atop the lighthouse. I continued northward until I reached Highway 128 just some miles south of Mendocino and Fort Bragg where I started to head south and east toward Calistoga where my friend’s house awaited me.

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San Francisco Peninsula

I spent a few hours along the San Francisco Peninsula today, driving south from the Golden Gate Bridge along Highway 1. It is amazing the difference being on the west-side of the peninsula ridge makes to the lay and ebb of the land. As much as I enjoy large cities such as San Francisco especially when on foot, I equally love the joy of driving along a rural road. And it only takes a few minutes south of the Presidio to discover this kind of chance. And this joy turns to thrill when it is done on a sunny day along a gorgeous coastline, especially for this Seattle-ite who just escaped a cold, winter downpour that hit that fair city today. I am told that the drive further south of Half Moon Bay down to Santa cruz is even more spectacular, but nevertheless even the short circuit I followed really helped to round out my day. The best part might of have been the nap I took in the car, parked facing west basking in the warmth of the sun as it slowly set. I fortunately woke in time to see the last minutes before sunset while looking over my should to the east to see the moon already risen.

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Second Chances

Some three weeks later here I sit at the end of my journey, my “quadrangle of awesomeness” at a close. As I wrote previously, this particular story is better measured in anything other than weeks or miles. I do not propose that the story I am telling is in fact what happened, only that in truth it did happen. I do not pretend there is no melancholy left in me even though this story’s chapter comes to a seeming close. And I do not promise you, the reader, that this is a story with a quote unquote happy ending. But make no mistake, it is my story.

It began many years ago when I drowned in Seattle rainwater poured over the clink of cocktail glasses and dimmed lights. I sat across from her obliquely, she a patchwork of shadows indecipherable making, at first, the sound of noisy static. The hurly-burly snapped cleanly in half and with it the static cleared, as if she in her own unintentional way had hurkily jerked a radio onto the only station in that vast dead sea we call cocktail conversation; it was then that I knew I was just along for the ride. I heard her, she growing rapidly louder until only a deafening quiet remained. I sat in the eye of a storm and knew I had but two choices: remain here and remain deaf, or else go back into the storm to her Siren call. I was drowned and wantonly so I drank the waters that poured over my head. Only later did I see past her as indecipherable shadows to be as goddess Cybele in Ovid’s Metamorphoses, dousing me in rainstorms to drown and return me to the sea; I “though born in hard and rugged mountains … now live in calm and gentle waters.” And if not as Cybele, she herself a Whitman prodigy, notes she is to be found down under our bootsoles. And if that is so then she as sea yields to became fertile soil, vibrant and lush. She eventually left the rain-soaked Seattle soil for the more fertile sands of Lebanon and now Dubai. And I in pieces by and by went off to find her. I eventually found her and heard her words. I let go of what was what. I let be what needed to be. Years then passed folded between the stilled falling leaves that came and then went. I saw my own marriage and subsequent divorce went, too, as it were. Sans me as the world’s longest long-shot, I thought there were no more second chances left to be gambled on me. But somewhere out of nowhere she appeared again. First as a simple, pixelated missive on my phone on the morning after the world stopped turning. And then she arrived, albeit briefly, in Seattle to visit all the places she left behind so many years ago. I sat with her one evening in my cafe. I sat in the shadow of her shadow and knew I was drowning all over again. Cybele she was not only. She, too, is my Muse. I sucked in the scent of her breath deep and deeply into the desiccated remains of Memory: I exploded. Only then did I begin rolling down the map toward Dubai, at first believing I was coming for her. But I was not. I was coming for myself. I came to find my Heart that sits along a boulevard cafe waiting to catch a glimpse of her in the Dubai sun, it more often that not spending its days watching the sun set over those waters where her own heart rests. I came to find my Heart and bring it home with me. I came to Dubai to give myself the gift of a second chance. And I have done that. As for the rest, as they say, is history.

Dubai

My first encounter with Dubai came at night stepping off a flight on Tuesday from Athens, Greece. I, a bit weary and hyped on adrenaline, stepped out and into the last leg of a three-week odyssey; an odyssey that began over dinner-drinks with friends so many years ago. An odyssey that found its final leg back in March of this year when the query, “So, when are you going to visit me?”, was asked. An odyssey better measured in years and layered upon layered of growth and introspection than in miles or in weeks. I came to knock on a door. I came to close a door. I came to open a new door. I came carrying many things with me, many of which already I have left on the wayside.

Dubai is a city that defies what I suspect is many of my fellow Americans’ perceptions of the Middle East. It is a clean, well-organized, friendly and truly culturally diverse city that defies all of the conventions and stereo-types that an ignorant person such as myself might have wished to heap upon it. It is as American as apple pie, maybe even more so. I appreciate it is only a day in the city, but I have encountered more genuine smiles than I can recollect in a long time. The kind of smiles that begin with the eyes, circumnavigate the face down through the lips and back to the eyes. The kind of smiles that leave marks on the eyes indicating: I am here now with you; happy. I am excited to see what the next three days will bring me; I may already be developing a sense of sadness that I will leave come Sunday morning.

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Siena

Today I visited Siena (not Sienna) which is situated halfway between Firenze and Roma. It is medieval town which includes more than few dozen churches strewn throughout its meandering hilly streets. I am thankful for the calves Seattle has given me as I really needed them today to roam around the town. I arrived a little before noon and soon discovered to my delight that it is already preparing for the Christmas season with the hanging of lights throughout the streets; sadly I was only there during the day so I missed actually seeing them lit. There is apparently a university located in the town which I stumbled upon as I at first through the buildings were a part of the church I was exploring. It is sometimes difficult for this American to comprehend being able to work and live in such history; I am very envious of the students.

Given that today was extremely overcast and a bit chilly I decided to spend a disproportionate amount of my time indoors. I stumbled upon Duomo di Siena (Cathedral of Siena) in my meanderings whereupon I purchased a ticket to visit the museum, crypt, cathedral, and climb up some very steep and narrow rounding stairs to get a panoramic view of the town. What excited me about the cathedral is that they allow photographs, albeit without use of flash or tripod. I had hoped to take some long exposure photographs; however, given this was not an option I instead opted to rely on HDRI which I just started using yesterday in Firenze. While I think long exposures are preferable in these situations, nevertheless HDR allows me to grab photographs that would otherwise require a tripod or a god-like steady-hand which I am not blessed with.

Siena is Firenze toned down in terms of tourism. It very much reminded me of Cambridge, England when I visited three years ago right before Christmas. People are out and about, chatting, window-shopping and generally doing the things that people do that live in a city. Certainly the city caters to tourists and frankly does a very admirable job of doing so at a very reasonable price in terms of tickets and audio-guides. For people looking to explore Roma and Tuscany then I highly suspect Siena is just about the perfect size and location for a vacation geared at taking it slower and yet affording itself the opportunity to drink in all that Roma, Siena, Firenze and Tuscany has to offer.

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