“Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass. It’s about learning how to dance in the rain.”
San Francisco is magical. It’s almost 2am and the city is alive with artists and musicians, writers and interns, bums and kids selling scrap metal shaped into rings; there are hippies and bankers, street performers and sailors, college kids and foreigners selling hot dogs with bacon. In their pockets flasks and money, left over powder and cigarettes, lighters and flashing cell phones and with itching hands hold the vibrancy of a chosen life.
That’s a church. That’s a giant church with a carnival flag on it. And underneath the church there are masses of extremely drunk and costumed humans. It’s like a huge mockery of life. There are fake news reporters, adults in diapers, kids dancing in the bars (real kids), and old people chugging beers. Maybe I’m just drunk or maybe I’m drunk and this is actually happening. Let’s run that thought.
How weird to be back in a city again. I have to say, going to the city life in Amsterdam and Utrecht right after my week on the tiny island of Jersey really heightened the experience for lots of reasons. In Jersey, though I felt very physically ostracized and out of place with the bike riding (who knew there were laws with bikes), quiet atmosphere, reserved conversations, and terrifying earthquakes that were really windstorms, I felt remarkably at peace and comfortable. Each thought was a fantastic conversation and I felt like the world could be lived more simply than I had even imagined. On top of the location, I spent the afternoons and evenings with my Scottish friend Susan and her boyfriend Gary. They are figuring out how to live together, and I watched them call each other out for not getting the oil for the heat, dance in pajamas, and veg out with tv, wine, and chocolate after a long work day. I laughed with Susan as she planned out her simple wedding and then laughed harder when she brought it up casually around Gary. She would say yes if he asked, she nudged and he laughed as well. They are in love in this adorably domestic way, a way I only pretended to know in my past relationships.
Thoughts on Jersey.
Susan took the day off so we decided to cycle to a cafe on the west coast of the island for lunch. She knew about some old railroad trail that was supposed to be a pretty ride so we set off to explore it. We missed the trail somewhere along the way and ended up on the cliffs with the most beautiful view of the ocean I’ve ever seen and completely forgot we had been looking for a trail.
I woke up early on Sunday because I wanted to do something different than Wadenswil. I headed to the station and hopped on the fast train to Luzern. When I arrived I headed to old town. I only had a few hours and I wasn’t really sure where to go, so I started walking until I came to the lake and the bridge that leads to old town.
I love art. I love museums. I like the way shoes echo through the open space. I like the clean walls and beautiful typography. I enjoy looking at the masterpieces inside, but I have never before felt any sort of life changing revelation until I went to Museo Reina Sofia in Madrid.