My Toes Are Burning

My toes are burning. The rest of my body is happy in the warm shower, but my toes feel like they have been dipped into scalding water. Perhaps it is because they have been shrouded in wool socks over the last 36 hours to protect them from the dry ice-like weather of San Francisco. Perhaps they are trying to tell me that they miss the recent sunshine and freedom of flip flops as they traverse the Mexican cobblestone streets.

The comparison of my toes' recent experiences troubles me as I try, with delicate desperation, to hold on to the warmth of joy of a recent vacation. They remind me of falling again, into the mix of wet cement poured into the impassable sidewalk of my daily life. My brain, which has been held off for ten days, is going through the inventory of things to be done. I am pursued again by the same two familiar feelings with their intentional roots. One is the illusory experience of celebrating a newly found "good" intention, where premature feelings of accomplishment cause me to never lift a finger to bring it into reality. The second, is the suffocating confinement of "good" intentions to logically and efficiently tend to my chores, mundane tasks of daily life, obligations and commitments. I know these two too well.

There is a third feeling, far more fleeting and vague. It is like opening a perfumed letter that permeates the entire room with the pleasant aroma intending to elicit a particular feeling by the unknown sender. From there, you are guided by good intentions that draw you forward, clairvoyant and unknowing at the same time, like floating down a river to somewhere that you do not know. If you allow yourself the luxury of time and space then actions seem effortless and hard work is satisfying. But if you do not, then the good intention sits in the back of your mind like caked mud. After a while, your brain becomes too heavy for your back to hold itself erect and begins to hunch under the weight. Your back muscles, under the strain of trying to right itself, begs for rest, which you oblige. The absence of movement causes the circulation to slow in your legs and feet and eventually, your toes will protest by burning.

The Battle of Relxation in Mexico

So it came to be that I am in Mexico. I will spare you the details as to why, other than we are here to meet up with my husband's birth mother (whom he reunited with five months ago), her husband, her various cousins and their spouses. We are were assured that it would be a relaxed vacation with no strings attached to how much or how little time we wished to spend with them, since most of the group come here every year to get away, relax, read and nap.

Most of my life I imagined Mexico as a vacation place for college kids on spring break and unadventurous adults who wished to travel to all-inclusive resorts where they could over-indulge in food, drink, sun and laziness. That was until I heard of Oaxaca, a place of culture and beauty, which calls to me strongly and tempts my curiosity, like an adventure. But we are not in Oaxaca, we are in Puerto Vallarta, and I am sitting on a bugenvilia fringed balcony overlooking palm trees and sand along the Banderias Bay with the mountains spilling out buildings of central Puerto Vallarta all the way down to the water. 

This is my first time to Mexico, unless you count the couple of hours I spent in Juarez (after walking across the border from El Paso), which is not a place I recommend, especially considering all the kidnappings and murders you hear about on the news that occur in this hotbed of Mexican crime. Which brings me to another thought, I was a little nervous about traveling to Mexico right now, especially since the U.S. State Department issued a new warning to halt all non-essential travel to Mexico a few days before our departure, it turns out Puerto Vallarta is still okay.

The plane ride seemed really long and I finished the first book I brought with me, The Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother. I decided that it is an extremely awkward choice of a book to start a vacation, if you are like me. If you don't know what the book is about, here is a short synopsis - an American born Chinese woman is determined to bring up her daughters in America the Chinese way, which means they are required to be the top student in school, study Mandarin, do manual labor, show utmost respect and loyalty to their mother even when she is a tyrant, refrain from having friends, always do exactly what is expected of you even if that means relinquishing any hope for your own happiness, forget about having fun and study classical music five or six hours a day, even on vacation and when they are sick. She claims it backfires, sort of, but not really.

If you are like me and feel your own part-Asian guilt strings pulling at you then you might understand why a vacation that promises ten days of leisure, with no more expectations other than to drink, eat, sleep, read, nap and relax, might push you into the uncomfortable zone. In very few ways did I grow up like the Tiger Mother's kids, but I did grow up with a half-Asian mom with a work ethic that makes you exhausted just hearing about it. She was my role model and now I have had a very hard time determining for myself just how much I should push myself and what is a balanced life for me.

There is a battle going on. Sitting around to "relax" is torture but I have also come to realize that I push through the agonizing pain of the weight of too many expectations on my shoulders, most of which were placed there by me. What is haunting me is the addictive promise of what hard work, dedication, discipline and focus can bring you, like it did for the Tiger Mother's kids, sort of. Yet, there is an iconoclast that lives within me trying desperately to tear down these beliefs and whisper the truth. Now I am stuck in the middle, with nowhere to go, except maybe Mexico.

We are here in the open air reception area of our hotel, greeted by my husband's birth mother and her husband. The skies open up and rain comes down like a waterfall. It is a beautiful downpour. Welcome to Mexico.

The skies clear quickly and we go to a cousin's multi-floor rental overlooking the water. We meet some family for the first time, drink and eat into the night.

Our balcony doors are open through the night and the sound of the hotel staff setting up for breakfast in the outdoor dining area six floors below our room wakes me at 6 a.m. After some time I fall back asleep and sleep until 10 a.m.

We catch a Mexican bus, for six pesos each, and go into central Puerto Vallarta. We walk along the water and through the streets and down on the beach. We stop at a beachside restaurant for an early dinner. After some more walking around town, we watch some live music in the square in front of the cathedral, then we notice the amazing sunset. We manage to catch the Mexican bus back to our hotel.

I'm not sure how this vacation is going to shape up, its been very nice so far and I can't complain about the view.

Its good to be here.

Foggy Morning Along Tomales Bay

The alarm went off at 5 a.m. I jumped out of bed, turned it off and went back to bed where I lay, not sleeping, battling with myself.

Do I really needed to get out of bed this early to see the early morning light along Tomales Bay?
Isn't it going to be just as rewarding if I get there later in the day?  
You said you wanted to do this, some voice reminded me.
I did, I did, but that compelling other voice in my head is tempting me with more sleep.
This is what happens every time, the voice said again, and you always regret it.

I jumped out of bed, it was 6 a.m. I rushed around and was out the door with my camera equipment, coffee, and packed lunch by 6:30 a.m. From my front step, I could see the light already emerging from somewhere behind the buildings of downtown to the east. This is still too late in the morning to get started, 5 a.m. would have been a better time. I head over the Golden Gate Bridge and then on back roads through Lucas Valley and Nicasio Valley (I stopped here for some foggy photos that counter my previous post, I will hopefully post them soon) and the town of Point Reyes Station and finally on Sir Francis Drake Boulevard along Tomales Bay.

I stopped at several pullouts, clustered near the town of Inverness. The fog was lifting from the long, narrow bay. The sun was rising through and above the fog. Morning was already here. I was a little too late, but it was still great. I made a mental note of this and reminded myself I will only have to get up earlier and earlier until June to really have the opportunity for the best light of the day.  

Its worth it.

The rest of my day was spent on the eastern edge of Point Reyes National Seashore. More to come on that.

My Unexpectedly Short Trip Through Nicasio Valley

My steering wheel was shaking. That's what you can expect from a 14 year old car with no power steering, right? Its been doing this for a while but last Tuesday it started to concern me and I got a tire blow out later that day. It seems like it has gotten worse. I continue down highway 101 north anyway and exit at Lucas Valley Road. My car roughly rounds the tight curves, winding its way up into the hills. Each shake of the steering wheel creates a loud thud, which is worse when I pull the wheel to the left. I take it slow.

The road makes its way out of the large waves of grass covered hills into a magnificent stretch of tall redwoods. It is dark and quiet and mysterious, where we might discover the secrets that our soul may not reveal, even to ourselves. Here, these things can find their way out.

The road exits the redwoods to sprawling, rolling hills and a layer of fog. I turn down Nicasio Valley Road and stop in the tiny village of Nicasio. Fields meet village, coming right up to the edge of town.

There are less than ten buildings here, in the middle of nowhere, and one of them happens to be a church I like. I ask myself why I have always been enamored by this church. It is quaint and charming and dropped into the middle of poetic landscape.

The rest of the town is also intriguing, a hint of an older time, perhaps, and a contrast to the way of life just ten miles away. There are men exiting from a restaurant and getting into their trucks and I wonder what they do here, what is their day like?

There is an oak tree and a field that intrigues me, so I creep along the edge of the fence and try to make some images. This is why I came out here, to discover what might be waiting.

Back on the road, it takes me around Nicasio Reservoir and eventually to the town of Point Reyes Station, where I stop for a quick snack at the bakery. I linger and wonder if I could live here. It is beautiful and rural and quiet and not too far from the city. We are looking for a quieter place where we feel at home.

Continuing towards the coast with increasing fog and decreasing chance at any vista at all, I finally stop at a gravel lot, worried about my car, and call my Dad. Yup, I still call my Dad about car trouble as he is an excellent source of information. His diagnosis: its either a ball joint or a wheel bearing and I should probably turn around.

I am disappointed and worried as I slowly make my way back. I am, however, lured to stop a couple more times in Nicasio Valley to capture a few more images for the day. It often happens that I see something when I am driving and I let it pass. I regret this, as I am not sure where I am in such a hurry to get to, and isn't this what I out here today to do?

I make it safely back to the city, relieved. The next day the mechanic informs me that the wheel bearing needs to be replaced and the tire is beginning to separate. Different and unrelated issues, since the tire was probably damaged after hitting a bad pot hole and explains the blow out of the other other tire on the same side. Thanks Dad for your wisdom.

All in all, it wasn't the day I had hoped for, but it was a day and it had its upsides and here it is.

I Am a Difficult Boss

A couple of weeks ago I had the idea that a morning walk, every morning, would be a good way to start my day seeing as how I have no job to go to and generally don't have to report in with anyone. I guess I only need to report in with myself. In order to do this, I need to leave and come back to the house, so that I feel like I have left home and then arrived somewhere, ready for my day's work. This may seem silly, but it is much harder then you would think to be self-disciplined each and every day. I am still working that one out.

Since I am really only accountable to myself (my spouse as well, but not any more than any other married person) I create my own additional responsibilities, to-do lists, chores and projects that I fill my day with just like a normal, working person would do. Being your own boss is both wonderful and incredibly hard. I think it is obvious why being your own boss is wonderful - freedom. Perhaps it is more difficult to imagine why it may be hard to boss yourself around. You have to motivate, manage, supervise and do performance reviews on yourself. These can be painful!

I have found that I am a difficult boss. I never do things fast enough, good enough or just plain enough. I give myself an unreasonable amount of tasks in an unreasonable amount of time. I don't let myself have breaks or take it easy. I give myself lectures when I am not performing up to what is expected. I am judgmental and critical of the amount and quality of work I do.

You are probably asking, what is it that you spend your days doing if you don't have a job? What kind of "work" are you doing? Well, I will tell you - I am doing things that I want to do, that I have wanted to do for a while, things I have put off until I had the time. And it is now time. So, I take these things that I want to do, many of which are creative projects that I really enjoy doing, and I turn them into work tasks that I beat myself up about because I am not improving, accomplishing or churning them out fast enough.

So today, when I told myself that I had to go for a morning walk because I told myself I would do it, I went. It was pouring rain, which is actually fine. I took some pictures, which was also fine. I drank my coffee while I walked - also known as multi-tasking. I hit the corner grocery store for my mid-week shopping run on my way back - gotta kill two birds with one stone, very efficient. Then I returned and started to write out my to-do list for the day while I did my hip and back stretches on the floor. Suddenly I realized that the main reason, the number one motivation for starting these morning walks is because I love morning and taking time to appreciate the new day, but I had just spent the last forty minutes doing almost none of that. I was so busy getting something on my list done that I forgot why I was doing it and instead was just grumbling about who-knows-what thoughts going through my mind.

So, enough of this craziness. I am working this one out, another thing for my to-do list. Just kidding, well, not really. All is not lost. I had my camera with me and it is the much kinder, gentler reminder to look around you, take it in and ask yourself, what do you see?

Below are a few of the images from my morning walk in the rain and fog in Alamo Square.

Donwtown San Francisco

Bush and Lamppost in Alamo Square

The church on Fulton Street

Horizon disappearing into fog.

Wet Grove Street

A Slice of City Life

I had to run some errands around town, so I set out towards Union Square and then Market Street with my camera. These are two vibrant areas and I hoped to capture a slice, here and there, of city life in San Francisco. Here are some images, while I made my way down Post Street.

The gritty part of Post Street

A woman walking from Post Street to Geary

A couple holds hands

A typical view on Post Street

Woman walking on Post Street

City Canyon on Post Street

A view of city life

Eventually I turned down Market Street, where it was busier than I had expected due to the holiday. The light was getting low in the sky.

Market Street

Man looking into the light

Jaywalker's shadow

Man with a briefcase

Shoppers on Market Street

Nearly empty Market Street

The sun was getting lower and it was quickly becoming cold and windy. My errands were only half successful. I guess I will have to try again another day.