Angel Island

The “walks to work” intention of this blog is expanding slightly. So I walked to work, via ferry to an island in the bay yesterday. Logistically a little challenging as my parents drove 2 1/2 hours to get here, and we missed the earliest ferry because of random traffic in Cupertino (damn that town!) and Embarcadero. The Fisherman’s Wharf area was no end to annoying with crowds of tourists, despite it being Wednesday. Luckily they all gather around random street performers and clear the sidewalks. The ride over was beautiful, and choppy with whitecaps so you really got some feeling that you were on a boat and not a large floating bus.

We picnicked at the Ayala cove, view being Sausalito. Then, hiking up to the top of a pretty steep bluff, surrounding hillsides were chaparral. Then, dipping down into China Cove, North Garrison, and the Immigration history tour. Unfortunately the main barracks were closed for weekend tours, and also I think because of restoration. It’s a site that’s a proof that citizens can make a difference- elderly children and relatives of immigrants lobbied to set this aside as a national, state, and local historical landmark and did an amazing job as a coalition (all from my Mom who is currently trying to do this in Fort Ord down in Monterey area). I’m glad they preserved it- it’s one of those artifacts of the really long period of time that California seriously limited Chinese immigration.

Dipped our feet in the water- so calm! so cool!- then hiked back up over the bluff and down to Ayala cove where we got some great Gordon Biersch Pilsner and commented on how we were all on vacation. The ride back via ferry was horrible because LANDOR, curse the wenches, was having some work party and knocking my mom about with backpacks and drunken revelry. I ranted at them something along the lines of “of course, you’re LANDOR” and “I’ll remember this, curse you wenches”, “respect our space”, and maybe, when they retaliated some tourist slight, i countered with “we’re locals, and I’ll remember this LANDOR.” etc. Pretty sun/vaca-drunk so doubt anything was coherent. I may have bated my mom somewhat by telling her I would back her up if she threw the first punch.

Sat on roof with potstickers and MORE beer, chatting in that aimless vacation way about the scenery. The little houses on top of buildings was fodder for countless ruminations. Tops of staircases, or just random little rooms on roofs? Should be rooves. And, then, dinner up in the Village at Iluna Basque, more ruminations on being a Basque, and general history of Basqueness (credit here goes to Dad- who is not Basque.)

Playing host, having an awkward sunburn, plus figuring out dinner proved too stressful to me and I ended up sitting in the dark for 5 hours wondering at where this random world war 2 song came from. where or when