“We do not want merely to see beauty, though, God knows, even that is bounty enough.  We want something else which can hardly be put into words–to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it.”
– C.S. Lewis.

A month ago, I took a weekend trip down the coast to Santa Cruz to visit a friend and escape from the city life for a couple days. On Saturday morning, I found myself on my own in Carmel-by-the-Sea with a few hours to spare. I walked down to the beach and walked along the shore to one end of it. On my way back, I stopped to just stand still and look at the ocean.

I watched the water come forward and rise and circle towards itself and recede. There is something miraculous in the curvature of the waves. And there is a release of tension that can come with the assurance of the cycle. To really be present at the ocean or in the nature of your choice is a kind of therapy.

As I stood there reveling in the scenery, I remembered how I used to do the same thing as a kid in warmer climates. Except my feet would’ve been in the water. And as the water repeatedly washed over them, my feet would slowly be buried in the sand until I was grounded in the earth up to my calves. I’d eventually pull my feet out and start again.

A woman walked by me and brought me out of my memories. “Did you see them?” she asked me with a huge grin.

“See what?”

“The dolphins… there they go again!”

I missed them. But it was just moments before they resurfaced, their fins momentarily poking through the top of the sea in unison. They were so close to the shore. I watched them, mesmerized, until I couldn’t see them any longer.

Dolphins never interested me as a kid. My thoughts of them somehow were limited Marine-this or Sea-that where sea animals do tricks for you for the payment of fish. There was a day camp I would go to where we would visit one of those places once a summer. It was a field trip I dreaded. I can’t really say why I felt that way back then, but I hated marine parks. It wasn’t until I saw dolphins in the wild that I started to really love the creatures.

A little over a week ago, I was on a boat in the San Francisco Bay to celebrate the marriage of two friends. We started near the Bay Bridge, passed huge military ships that were docked for Fleet Week, went past Alcatraz, and underneath the Golden Gate Bridge. But as we returned to the center of the bay, before it could become entirely a tour of man made feats, we spotted dolphins.

At first, I thought the guy who was trying to point them out had visited the open bar one too many times. But then I saw a school of fins appear in the distance, headed in the direction of the shore of the Presidio.

Dolphins in the wild aren’t guaranteed to jump out of the water and do tricks. They can be elusive. You may only get to watch them for a minute. But to see nothing more than the graceful backs of dolphins emerge in unison for a few moments can be immensely special.

On that evening, they were a beautiful sight during the winding down of a lovely day. And a nice reminder that the wild can be closer than we think.

©2012 Girl, Unstoppable. All Rights Reserved.

Though the pain that comes from losing a loved one is infinite, the immensity of it does dim with time. But special events and holidays can re-magnify the loss and make you recall simpler, happier days when all of the dining table chairs were full.

My mom read somewhere that when a family member dies, it is better to begin new holiday traditions instead of dwelling on old ones. 2008 was the year we began recreating our holidays. That year, we went to Hawaii, and the following year, we spent a few days in Santa Barbara. This time, we visited Santa Cruz. Our trips have been getting closer and colder, but the bittersweet new tradition of glorious sunsets, makeshift Christmas trees, and the sea has continued…

©2012 Girl, Unstoppable. All Rights Reserved.

One night when I was in the Mission District, I decided to take some quick shots of some of the Christmas decorations I came across. There was nothing fancy, but it was charming to see a little bit of holiday color added to windows and sidewalk trees and gated doorways:

©2012 Girl, Unstoppable. All Rights Reserved.

We walk across the Golden Gate, trying to imagine the way the area once looked. The absence of a bridge and buildings, the abundance of vegetation and wildlife, the grizzlies that adorn our flag but have long since vanished from our state.

Wind pushes the fog over the bridge like waves, splattering our faces with condensation. Tourists who didn’t anticipate the cold walk by in newly purchased jackets, socks worn with dress sandals, and some are unprepared in flip flops and shorts. It is August, after all.

I turn to the east and see where the fog meets the sun and look forward to heading towards light and tiny bit of warmth. I turn to the west to see and the ocean and the horizon. As always, the curvature of the earth sends a surge of wanderlust through me as I think of the places to explore beyond it.

The sounds of hundreds of cars driving by combine and become white noise.  In my head, all I hear is this melody:

©2012 Girl, Unstoppable. All Rights Reserved.

It’s just before 8am on a mid-May Sunday morning in San Francisco. People celebratorily stumble down the streets as if it’s Saturday night. You see a group of people in coordinated gladiator costumes role playing as if it’s Halloween. As you walk towards the bay, you see little corn tortillas covering the ground as if several tortilla-filled trucks collided and spilled their contents all over the street. What the hell is going on? It must be Bay to Breakers.

Bay to Breakers (B2B) is San Francisco’s annual race from the bay to the ocean. After the real competitors take off, it is one of the city’s most notorious “WTF?” events where people congregate to celebrate and indulge in absurdity. After years of not making it to the event, I finally attended my first B2B this past weekend. Now that I’ve been, I concur with the masses that it’s a great idea to experience it at least once. Here were some memorable parts of Bay to Breakers 2010:

Naked people

The Bad:
You’ll see exhibitionists at any large event in San Francisco, but at B2B, they are sometimes running.

The Ugly:
Someone in a trench coat may appear to be dressed, but to your surprise, he will give you a full frontal reveal when he turns around.

Baby strollers without babies

The Good:
Baby strollers equipped with stereos and loudspeakers blaring upbeat music for everyone around to enjoy as they walk or run.

The Funny:
A baby stroller full of little jello shots to share with fellow revelers.

Bathrooms every block or so

The Good:
Most people are not at B2B to race, they are there to party. No one stands a chance against the Kenyans anyway. The people who plan the event know what most people are there for, so they put up Porta Potties every block or two along the way.

The Bad:
Even with bathrooms everywhere, the lines are incredibly long. And as you start to get close to the front of the line, someone in a viking costume might invite five fellow vikings to cut in line with him.

The race course

The Good:
The race is almost entirely flat except for one hill on Hayes Street that goes by the Painted Ladies of Full House fame. This allows the people who are not racing (the bulk of the participants) to put forth as little effort as possible and focus on what they came to do: party.

The Funny:
Many do not make it to the end of the race at the ocean. By the time you reach Golden Gate Park, crowds have dispersed and people have headed home to pass out or have gone somewhere else to continue the party.

©2012 Girl, Unstoppable. All Rights Reserved.

After spending a day hiking in Henry Coe State Park, I could not fall asleep. When I closed my eyes that night, the hues of the day lingered in my mind. In my delight in their memory, I embraced the vivid images and relinquished a bit of rest.

Verdancy with blankets of purple and orange wildflowers. Azure with flashes and swirls of white butterflies. Clarity and fluidity gliding over rocks and soaking my feet.

I held on to these visions knowing that in a short while, spring’s color show will have disappeared. The rain will stop falling and the summer sun will suck the grasses, flowers and creeks dry. But images of the fleeting shades of revival will give me something to look forward to until the sky water colors the land again.

©2012 Girl, Unstoppable. All Rights Reserved.

The first round of contestants come around the corner.

One of San Francisco’s secrets is that Lombard Street is not the city’s “crookedest street”. Vermont Street, between 20th and 22nd Streets, is the true winner of that title. But unlike Lombard Street with its highly manicured vegetation and showy homes, Vermont Street is largely unkempt, “out of the way” and hard to photograph. With not a lot of traffic going down the street, it’s a great location for San Francisco’s annual “Bring Your Own Big Wheel” Race (BYOBW) which was formerly held on Lombard Street.

The event happens every Easter, rain or shine. This year, it happened to be raining sideways on Easter Sunday. Relaxing in the warm indoors sounded like the most appealing way to spend the afternoon. But at the last minute, I decided I couldn’t miss out on the once a year event. So I bundled up, grabbed an umbrella and took advantage of the rain to wash off the mud caked on my shoes from the previous Monday’s hike.

Approaching Vermont Street, I could see that plenty of people were not deterred by the weather. Many were in costume and carrying their own plastic tricycles. Being Easter, the most common costumes were bunnies, but some other notable costumes were hot dogs, Wonder Woman, and of course, men dressed as women.

As soon as the race began, I knew I’d made the right decision to go. Words, pictures or even videos can’t fully describe the hilarity of it all. Try to imagine grown people in ridiculous costumes trying to navigate sharp curves in little plastic tricycles made for someone a fraction of their size. And some had most likely had a few too many mimosas at brunch earlier in the day.

Tricycles were not the only “vehicles” present– there were carts that looked like they were meant to be underbed storage, surfboards on wheels, and somehow a few were maneuvering around the corners on garbage bins with two wheels. The most important rule is that your wheels are not made of rubber. This allows for a maximum amount of wipe outs.

There are many different riding styles. Some racers are all about speed and getting down the mountain first. Some are more into the show and interested in playing the character they dressed up as. And others use the turtle’s motto, “slow and steady wins the race.” The stragglers were either heckled or encouraged with cheers as they timidly made their way down the hill.

BYOBW isn’t always a spectator sport. If you have a front row location, you’d better be on guard. I learned this the hard way. As I was taking a picture of some racers coming around the corner, one of them smashed right into me and I went flying. A bonus of having the festival on Vermont Street is that San Francisco General Hospital is right around the corner.

As if the rain was not enough, some people try to sabotage racers by spraying them with silly string and dropping bananas on the street. A woman dressed in a pink rabbit costume appeared to be innocently spreading bubbles with a bubble machine, but her main goal was to distract the racers and slick up up the road even more with soap.

The race didn’t seem to be for time, it was more like a race to the end. At the end of each round, plastic tricycle parts were scattered about. Some people lost key parts of their vehicles and had to bow out, while others started to exit the race as it began to rain more heavily. As I began to start dripping with water and my umbrella couldn’t resist the urge to flip inside out, I decided it was time to head indoors. I can’t think of a better way I could’ve spent the afternoon, and it was completely worth getting soaked for.

A storm trooper wipes out.

Contestants who've successfully made it through a round carry their big wheels back up the hill.

I never imagined I'd see a pig riding a tricycle down the street.

©2012 Girl, Unstoppable. All Rights Reserved.

“In the spring, at the end of the day you should smell like dirt.”

- Margaret Atwood

As I wrote last weekend, this past week was my Spring Break and I had no travel plans. So I contacted the awesome Lauren Quinn to see if she could take me on the Palomarin Hike she’d mentioned in her Top Three Travel Secrets post.

The day of our hike was super foggy. As we arrived to begin the hike, it wasn’t pouring, so we went ahead with it. Lots of winter rain allowed us to enjoy a few things Californians don’t take for granted– colorful wildflowers, incredibly green vegetation and an abundance of flowing water. Alamere Falls was a nice surprise, it wasn’t like any other waterfall I’d seen before. The water tumbles over the cliff and splashes onto the beach before draining into the ocean.

I used to hate getting dirty, now it’s something I enjoy from time to time. Partly it’s a throwback to my childhood and the other part of it is a sense of being close to the earth. After the hike, I was soaked in mud up to my mid-calf. I washed the jeans and socks I was wearing that day and they are still caked with mud. It was a good day.

©2012 Girl, Unstoppable. All Rights Reserved.

Spending five hours in a car with people I spend five days a week with, I begin to really get to know them for the first time. Stories of lives unfold and interests and opinions are revealed. “What a strange bunch,” I think. I feel at home.

We stop for dinner. Our waiter comes by and as if we are his family members, he tells us the trifling details of his day of chopping wood. He has no idea what the day’s special is. He returns every so often with drinks, food, bits of information about his day and his life. This peculiar woodsmen environment is not one I’ve ever experienced before, but it is cozy and I feel at home.

Cell phone bars decrease as the altitude increases. Headlights illuminate a growing number of tree trunks and a road lined with snow. We are surrounded by mountains that we cannot see, but we know we are somewhere special. We look up at the twinkling lights our city building lights cancel out. In the rawness of the earth, I feel at home.

We settle into our cabin. The power goes out. Distractions unavailable, the entire group comes together. In the dark, we share. Quirks and idiosyncrasies are acknowledged and accepted. Unique beings bonded by individuality and common goals. I feel at home.

The light and daylight have returned. I quietly leave the cabin. I slip further into my skin and deeper into my blood. I exhale everyday minutiae and inhale fresh air and fresh perspective. I become aware of the difference between walking amongst the trees rather than past them, and strive for the former. I stop to look up at tree tops and swirling clouds and feel grounded in my position on this planet. In the wonder of the Earth, I feel at home.

It’s been hours since we left the trees and mountains behind. Across the bridge, I see a twinkling skyline. We approach chaos and frustration with undertones of possibility. I feel at home.

©2012 Girl, Unstoppable. All Rights Reserved.

It’s been awhile since I’ve done some serious traveling. When I am not distracted by things I have to do, stir craziness begins to creep up on me. I am hoping to find an affordable last minute Spring Break getaway, but in lieu of any concrete travel plans, I’ve been thinking a lot about where I can go in San Francisco and feel like I am in another place, even if it’s only for a few hours…

» Bissap Baobab & Little Baobab

The first time I walked into the Senagalese restaurant, Bissap Baobab, I knew immediately that I’d left San Francisco and entered West Africa. And true to West Africa, it’s full of friendliness, randomness, and hearty flavorful food. Little Baobab is Bissap’s sibling and is located just around the corner. They offer the same menu as Bissap Baobab up to a certain point and then push aside the tables and dim lights so you can dance the night away to the beats of West Africa and the African diaspora.

» Nonstop Bhangra

Bhangra is a type folk music and dance that comes from the Punjabi region of India. San Francisco’s monthly event, Nonstop Bhangra, fuses this style of music with hip hop, reggae and other genres. The event is fittingly held at a venue called the Rickshaw Stop, and at the party you can enjoy a dance lesson, music and dance performances, and plenty of time to shake and groove on your own. When it gets packed, it tends to get pretty hot and sweaty, but to me, that just adds another element of India to the event.

» 24th Street and the Mission

As the hipsters extend their adhesive jeans with saggy butt legs from the 16th Street part of the Mission to the 24th Street side, gentrification is on everyone’s mind. But there are still times walking down 24th Street when you can feel like you are in Central America as people live their lives on the sidewalks, Spanish is the dominant language, and the smells of pupusas, tacos, and baked goods waft out of the restaurants and panaderias. And of course, the Mission hosts some of San Francisco’s most interesting annual festivals like Carnaval and Day of the Dead.

» Clement Street

I was first introduce to Clement Street in the Richmond by a friend of mine who is a chef. It was pretty easy to see why she liked it– it feels like a culinary tour of Asia. Some of the restaurants on the street are delicious and well known, but I think the most interesting cultural experience is at the Richmond New May Wah Supermarket. It is stocked with Asian produce and products that are hard to find in the US. Chicken feet and other such things not commonly eaten in the US are vividly displayed with no hesitation about what would make the average American squeamish.

» BR55

My obsession with Brazil runs deep. After returning from volunteering there, I needed a regular fix of the genres of Brazilian music I find to be corny but incredibly endearing. I found what I was looking for at the monthly event, BR55, held at Shattuck Down Low in Berkeley. There are a few other Brazilian events in the San Francisco Bay Area that I really enjoy, but they tend to strive for a more cosmopolitan Rio vibe. BR55 serves straight up forró to two-step to and axé in all of it’s cheesy glory.

©2012 Girl, Unstoppable. All Rights Reserved.