By the Bay
Casey and I spend most of our summer in other people's vacations. I don't say that in the glamorous, "my life is better than your vacation" way. I say it in the simple, "people come to our home to recreate and we help them" way. For us, the Frank Church is one of our favorite homes and places of relaxation and refuge - it's also often mind-bending, back-breaking work.
It's 5:37 on a Tuesday and I promised myself I'd be home at a reasonable time for dinner, so I don't have time to go into what makes our trip to the Bay Area an oddly opposite thing. We vacation where the people we take on vacation live out their day to day lives. We go to the city to open up our eyes in the way that people from the city come to the wilderness to open their eyes. It's a weird and odd thing to take the oppose flight that so many of our guests take to get here.
I hope you know what my mushy brain is trying to introduce here. Let me get into it.
I loved Oakland and San Francisco.
At night, we walked around a day-glow Botanical Garden on Lake Merritt then we ate Ethiopian food with our hands. We drove to the Marin Headlands and hiked through the humid air to the Tennessee Valley where our, "Is the tide going out or in?" question was quickly answered (IN!!!). We ate the most delicious Thai food, we drank beer, we played board games, we read books and watched the sunset on the Oakland skyline. We touristed - a handmade fortune cookie in Chinatown, a Saturday morning market on the wharf, a live band above the BART entrance in the Mission. We slurped ocean off the half shell, one oyster at a time. We had a lazy, sun-drenched afternoon in Dolores Park, watching people watch people watch other people.
We came home exhausted. I was behind on work, Casey broke out with some strange allergic reaction. I wondered if I was truly meant to be a city girl after all, then checked average rent prices. Hank wiggled, glad air travel isn't a normal part of our plans.
Cuddled into our wood stove, we're dreaming of the next adventure already.