We flew up to the Bay Area last month during a weekend pocket of calm between rain storms, marking the transition from winter to spring. We did an AirBnB in Berkeley, at a tiny house in our host’s backyard. There were chickens and a friendly black kitten named Aster, and our host shared his record player and books with us. First thing in the morning I’d listen to Nina Simone or Joy Division on vinyl, then read Audre Lorde or t.s. eliot before falling asleep in the evenings.
When we weren’t traveling between Berkeley and SF, we walked through much of the Mission District and Haight & Ashbury, and wandered aimlessly around Berkley and Oakland with walks sometimes spanning 11 miles in a day. We ducked into shops when we got tired, or wandered into cafes or restaurants when we got thirsty or hungry. Sadly, I can’t even remember most of the places we walked into. Regardless of all the time we spent plotting our itinerary in any location, we hardly followed any of it. But I think I like it that way.