In My Life

Today we both decided and agreed that we will move back to Brisbane where our family and friends are. Being away and coming back has convinced us: that’s where we belong; even if we have to rent for the rest of our lives. Going back to church today and visiting family members was like coming home after a long absence. We didn’t feel that when we got back to Boonah.

Looking back over the last five weeks it’s strange what comes to mind. Muir woods was one highlights and so I mentioned that to a friend of ours named Annie. I told her about the fog and the dew that waters the giant redwoods in California and she reminded me of the mist that used to water the earth in the creation account (Genesis 2:4-6).

There was also something I heard in church in San Francisco last weekend that popped back into my mind. It wasn’t a wonderful or memorable sermon, but one thing the pastor said made perfect sense. We humans only have significance if we are made in the image of God, leave him out of the picture and we lose that significance. If there is no God, if we’re just here because of some random chemical reaction, then we are cosmic accidents going no where and of no more significance than a blade of grass.

Strange that those two things are what I remembered first when I started to look back. Of course, there were many scenic highlights that I would love to see again – like the Rockies, the autumn leaves at Tremblant, the architecture in Chicago, and the green fields of Maryland. And there were many memorable occasions and encounters that I’d love to relive, especially the time spent with Hannah, meeting Justin, visiting the Thomsens, and dinner with Bronwyn and Josie. But, strangely, out of all those beautiful places and people, what comes to mind first is our eternal significance, and the feasibility of creation.

You may think I’m crazy, but that’s the truth. I’m not pretending or trying to make a good impression; those are two truths that are even more dear to me now than before.

I’ve enjoyed writing this blog – it’s also been a good way to share our experiences with you and for us to remember where we’ve been and what we’ve done. Thanks for joining us on this journey.

P.S. I think I’m going to go on blogging. I’ll let you know when I get re-started.
It’s probably going to be called either: In My Life or ithappenedjusttheotherday. I’ll share my experiences, tell you what I’ve been reading, watching, and listening to, pass on recipes, and steer you to things that have enriched my life.

P.P.S. If I can work it out I’ll post some more photos of the journey.

Yes, we survived the sleepy driver on the 8 hour bus journey to L.A., endured the 15 hours on the Virgin flight to Sydney, struggled through the hour and a half flight to Brisbane, and the last hour drive to Boonah; and slept well last night.
It’s strange to be home. Sad to see how dry it has been while we’ve been away. I’ll write one more entry when my brain has settled down and I’ve had time to reflect on the things we will remember most.

It’s the deadly hour after lunch on a very warm afternoon and I fear that our bus driver is struggling to stay awake. I see him constantly doing things like taking off and putting on his gloves, stretching, changing his seating position, taking swigs of what looks like an energy boosting drink. I could easily drop off too if I wasn’t keeping an eye on him and being ready to scream him awake if he does nod off. What doesn’t help is the straightness of this highway – not a bend for the last 100 miles. Also, we’ve driven into that notorious Los Angeles haze – almost as thick as yesterday’s fog. And, all but three of the passengers are asleep, including Glenys.

This haze, this smog, is like the smoke of a bush fire. The hills on both sides are bald, parched by the continuing drought in California. We passed a dam an hour ago that had water, but you could see just how far the water level has fallen – a staggering amount. Still, the grape vines and orange trees look lush – fed, no doubt, by drip irrigation. Overhead we’ve seen migrating geese, on the ground elks of some kind.

I hope we make it to the airport in one piece…..

After dinner tonight we thought we’d walk back to our hotel a different way – up Turk Street – little knowing we were going to walk into a mass of drug deals. You could see money changing hands, a hubbub of frantic activity, and then young guys in cars sharing whatever they’d bought. By comparison, Eddy Street, our street, is an avenue of tranquility and innocence; yet we had thought all along that it was a den of darkness. Anyway, we got back safely.
By the way, our Indian dinner at the New Delhi was excellent.

Tomorrow we leave for L.A. to catch our flight back home. We’ll travel by Greyhound bus because it’s the only transport that can get us there with enough time spare to be processed at the airport. It will be a very early start so we’ve already started packing.

This morning, after the long walk to Greyhound, we took the ferry to Sausalito, a tourist resort like Noosa or Byron Bay, across the bay, which ought to have given us grand views of the Golden Gate Bridge; but the fog was so thick you could hardly see the surrounding water. I guess this is the fog that keeps alive the redwoods at Muir Woods. The ferryman kept sounding the fog horn because visibility was literally next to nothing.

At Sausalito we spied a long queue waiting to buy hamburgers; so we joined them. They were being made right before eyes, cooked over a flame, and put together on an assembly line of carefully labelled grease-proof paper. They were good! By the time we had eaten ours, the queue had doubled in length down along the street. By the way, the shop was barely two+ metres wide and manned by three Spanish-speaking brothers. What a gold mine of a business!

We took the bus back to SF to avoid the lingering fog (already about 2.00pm) and bought ourselves something to take home – Glenys bought jeans, I bought Bose speakers for ($99). Outside Macy’s we saw a young guy being tackled to the ground by three other young guys. To me it looked like a mugging, but the ‘muggers’ were Macy’s security, and the guy on the pavement was a shoplifter. In the scuffle another guy escaped, dropped his loot, but retrieved it before running into the hands of other members of the security team around the corner. Boonah is going to seem very dull after all we’ve seen over these past five weeks!

Along the way we’ve seen the doubles of many people back home – including some of you. And, believe it or not, we saw a woman from West End in the crowd yesterday. We don’t know her personally but when we lived there she would often ask us to light her cigarette or lend her some money.

Don’t get me wrong about SF, it’s a beautiful city, built on many hills, overlooking a spectacular bay, and has a so much to enjoy. Sadly, it is also home to many broken people who line the streets just back from the middle of downtown. I guess if you’re down-and-out, SF would be a nice place to live. I can’t help thinking back to the 1960s and 70s when we were urged, in song, to wear some flowers in our hair if we were coming to San Francisco. I guess many came hoping to find a nirvana, but never did. After a while the drugs don’t work, and they leave you ‘unfixably’ damaged. Thank God, we got rescued before we crossed that point of no return.

Today we’ve seen another side of San Francisco – the streets near the First Baptist Church are strewn with people asleep on the sidewalks – those awake in their ‘beds’ looking half-past dead. Around the same streets are many more damaged people than we’ve seen in any other American city. Those on their feet seem to be stoned out of their brains – often speaking to invisible companions. There are some like that near our hotel, but not so many, and as our local corner store owner told us, they’re not bad or dangerous, just wrecks after years in jail or after doing things to mind and body way beyond breaking point. Glenys keeps saying when we see these people, “I could never live here!”
She had another fairly sleepless night and is looking tired today, so I’ve got her resting while I read the NY Times and write this update.
After church we walked back through the downtown streets and could see just how crowded it is everywhere – so much more than on week days. And it’s evident, today, that this is the gay capital of America.

Late yesterday afternoon we went to see a new American movie called Argo, which tells the true story of the attempt to get six escaped American embassy staff, hiding in the Canadian embassy in Tehran, out of Iran, while others, less fortunate, were being held captive for 444 days by the Iranians in the last days of Jimmy Carter’s presidency. Daring deception was used in the rescue bid, and I couldn’t remember what happened in real life back in the late 1970s. Anyway, the audience cheered and clapped at various stages throughout the movie when things went right. I had wanted to see this movie for this very reason: to witness the local response to what was a very humiliating time for Americans. They still take pride in their country and applaud the efforts of those who risk their lives for the sake of others.

Afterwards we had dinner at a place called Max’s where we were glad we ordered just one main and a salad because that was more than enough for our Australian-sized stomachs. Our one dessert would have been enough for four people – we certainly couldn’t finish it.

Tuesday morning we take a bus to L.A. to catch our plane back to Australia. What a time we’ve had!

When we got on the bus with four other people I was thinking, “Well not many people are interested in natural beauty and 800 year old trees any more!” But as we went on the bus filled and by the time we got there it was like Woodstock – literally thousands had come by car, by bike, on foot. And what a place! The only word that comes to mind, and I rarely use it, is awesome.
Our first bus driver from the city was a glamorously dressed black woman, with Afro, jewelry, and enormous sunglasses. She could have been a jazz singer or ancient rock star. She took us over the Golden Gate Bridge to the shuttle bus.
I was executing the Muir Woods to be a little clump of Redwoods, instead it’s a huge forest with creeks running through it. Salmon swim up stream from the ocean to spawn here. The trees need to be seen to be believed, the sunlight breaking through and the quiet of the forest need to be experienced. There were only a few moments of that silence because foreigners talked loudly most of the time, unaware of the signs calling for quiet.
It was a mission to get here, the hairpin bends hair-raising, but well worth it! I took a stack of photos because it was hard to resist.
By the way, these redwoods are the tallest and oldest living things on earth. Some are 800+ years old, 85+ metres high, and 4 metres wide. Each one needs 50 gallons of water a day. Because of the dryness of California they would not get nearly enough water to live except for the fogs that roll in from the Pacific dropping their dew all over this forest. Amazing, hey?