Coastal Voyager

Mass transit, movies and mayhem in San Francisco, California

I only had a few hours to check out San Francisco via mass transit and walking, so I thought I'd be doing good to navigate from the airport in San Mateo to the Golden Gate Bridge. You can't have watched Albert Hitchcock's Vertigo without wanting to see the bridge in person. I had dutifully researched the route to get there, but was a little nervous. Although I have been a frequent traveler in recent years, I've rarely visited cities, and when I have it's been with a group via a shuttle bus. I hadn't used commuter rail, a bus or the subway in more than a decade.

All those movies and TV shows I've watched with crime-ridden city subway scenarios didn't help, not to mention Zodiac. Maybe I have seen too many movies. Still all the memorable movies and gorgeous photographs of San Francisco have made me long to see the city, and be willing to face some mass transit discomfort to do so. As the poet John Berryman said "We must travel in the direction of our fear."

Luckily I met a friendly lady from Israel on my San Mateo County hotel shuttle to catch the Bay Area Rapid Transit train. She soon was asking me if I wanted company on my foray into the city. Along the way we learned from the helpful BART attendant that we could see the Golden Gate Bridge from Fisherman's Wharf, and that Chinatown was not too far from the wharf on the way back to a BART station. That sounded good to us.

So we disembarked from the Embarcadero station and began the 20-minute walk down Embarcadero to Pier 39 and the wharf. Our route past the city's many neat-and-clean piers and warehouses gave us great vantage points to take in the San Francisco skyline, including the signature Transamerica Pyramid, and the rolling hills that give the city its unique character. I thought about how photographs, film and video capture such small parts of cities, landscapes, etc. You have to be surrounded by a place to really get some sense of it, even a real taste of it. Photographs and words are just invitations to the party.

After awhile we passed an Alcatraz tour boat, and then there it was rising serenely from the bay: the infamous Alcatraz. Talk about movie locations. The ironic contrast of the brutal history of the prison with its huge popularity with popcorn-chewing tourists today cannot be missed when you're there to witness it. Of course if I'd had the time I would have gone to get an eyeful myself.

We kept walking and watching, and then I saw something that shocked a forgotten image from my memory. It was a bank of trees in two parallel rows. Their almost leafless branches reached up in a contorted gnarly way that was both beautiful and alarming. I remembered seeing a line of such trees about 30 years before in the 1978 remake of the Invasion of the Body Snatchers. The trees, which do look to be from an alien planet, figure prominently in the horrifying ending of the film. I was mesmorized looking at them again.

Could these be the same peculiar trees? I had never seen them before anywhere else. The background was different I vaguely remembered. Later I saw them again when touring the picturesque Filoli Gardens in San Mateo, and learned from our guide they were London plane hybrid sycamores. Their knobby branches are created by the ancient practice of "pollarding," a type of pruning which gives them a unique look for gardens and keeps them from outgrowing their urban environment. See, I told myself, they're not so spooky afterall.

Through googling I learned the film was indeed set in San Francisco and the background of the trees in question is the San Francisco City Hall.

After nosing around Pier 39 and the Wharf, seeing the ghostly outline of the Golden Gate through a light foggy haze, and being introduced to the delights of Dungeness Crab, my friend and I took a cable car to Chinatown. The ability of the cable car to easily climb and descend the many steep hills of San Francisco helped me get why it's still so popular a means of transportation there. Soon the cable car attendant was calling out the stop for Chinatown and we disembarked for our next adventure: tea tasting.

When it was time for me to get back to my hotel so I wouldn't miss my San Mateo tour reception I walked to the downtown shopping district with my new friend where we parted ways. And then in possession of a good mass-transit map and having the ability to ask strangers for directions, I found my way to the Civic Center BART station and was soon speeding back to my hotel with a big smile on my face.

Reflecting on the white roofs of Bermuda

You can't visit Bermuda without noticing the white roofs on the homes, be they cottages or mansions. The  consistency of the pastel-walled houses topped by pitched white roofs is charming and picturesque. Especially because the roads on the carefully landscaped island are often winding.

On the drive to Cambridge Beaches Resort I asked my taxi driver why all the roofs were white. He explained that it was to reflect the heat in part, but also the painted, slab-stepped limestone roofs were constructed and treated for the collection of rain water. The water runs down the roof to concrete troughs that channel the water into pipes that lead to a cistern for collecting and storing the water under the house.

I learned later that the roofs are periodically treated with bleach (about once every two years) and then coated with a cement and acrylic blend that includes a fungicide. Historically the roofs were lime washed.

How clever, I thought. Why don't we use that technique everywhere? I remembered at this point that cisterns were big in Florida during the early pioneer days. The old sugar plantations often have them, and vestiges of them remain in historic homes. They were used in other states as well.

Why don't we collect water from our roofs today? Probably for the same reason most of us don't hang out our laundry anymore. It works, but it's more trouble and time consuming. Bermudians don't have a choice because water resources are limited. As Florida and other states struggle with water shortages, who knows, cisterns on the mainland may come back into vogue.

Bermuda doesn't totally rely on its cisterns I learned when I returned home. While the cisterns easily supply the residents' water needs during most of the year, the summer high season brings a tourist influx that outstrips supply. During such times water from deep wells is trucked around the island.

I have to say I was a bit hesitant about drinking the water before I was assured by residents that it was perfectly safe, and that tourists can drink it without ill effect. It tastes perfectly fine, and there's something special about knowing you're drinking water that has been naturally processed by evaporation and condensation.

Getting the bounce back in my step in Bermuda

Just was talking to Dr. Lana Staheli, PhD, a Seattle-based life strategies coach, for a story I'm doing on life coaching for a health magazine. I met her several weeks ago at Cambridge Beaches Resort in Bermuda.

Our interview reminded me how much has changed in my life because of my "life balance" retreat with her at the secluded, luxurious oceanfront resort. One of the biggest new developments is my launching this Coastal Voyager website to share my journeys in a personal way on an ongoing basis. I'm also planning to hit the road intensely beginning in August for a tour of the coastal U.S. and Canada with the goal of gathering material for my first book. I'll still be visiting the Caribbean and other coastal international destinations as well. You can follow my travels here.

Before my visit to Bermuda I was floundering a bit wondering about what new strategies I needed to employ in the down economy to kick-start my freelance business. Like other journalists and freelancers I know, my pocketbook has been hit hard by the recession. It's become ever more difficult to maintain an apartment, and frustrating to make those monthly payments because I'm often on the road on travel assignments anyway.

Talking with Dr. Staheli on the beach in Bermuda, looking at where I was and where I wanted to be, I got a whole new perspective on my life. My biggest lesson was that in my obsession with trying to make more money I wasn't taking the time to refresh and replenish myself with activities like walking and getting together with friends. Because I have gained some weight in the last few years, only allowing myself two or three days a week to exercise was keeping me from taking the weight off.

Dr. Staheli helped me see that all that work, work, work was counterproductive and to come up with an action plan, which I started putting into play at Cambridge Beaches. Walking more when I came home to Orlando ended up being the key that unlocked the idea of Coastal Voyager in my mind and gave me the inspiration for my new mission. And walking more is helping me take off the weight slowly but surely.

Her coaching turned around my idea of being forced to put all my stuff in storage to wanting to pare down to my most essential possessions and storing them while I travel. I'll be staying with family and friends between my trips.

When I talked to my About.com editor about the idea, she loved it, and mentioned that I was becoming unstuck. "What do you mean?" I asked. She had just read the National Geographic Traveler magazine ombudsman Christopher Elliot's April 13 MSNBC travel column on "What's the secret to an endless vacation? Nine tips for becoming a 'new' nomad" In it he talks about people who are responding to this crazy economy by traveling full time. He's even planning his own extended trip with his family next year!

Dr. Staheli believes this economy is helping nudge many of her clients to reinvent themselves. Changing ourselves periodically is energizing and enriching whether it comes from either an internal impetus like a desire to do something different or an external one, like the economy. Her book Bounce Be Transformed, which is available to be ordered or for free download on her site, will tell you how you can reinvent yourself for the better. She'll be back at Cambridge Beaches to lead another weekend retreat next March.

As for my journey, more to come!

Snorkeling off the beach in Curacao: Making my way back

My first visit to Lodge Kura Hulanda in Curacao two years ago was brief, so I didn't snorkel off the beach. I lusted to see what was under the surface of those brilliant turquoise waters, and I felt in my heart I had to come back. The desire to snorkel there beckoned to me almost like a siren's song.

To tell the truth I could have plunged in the first time, but I had just been on boat excursion, and I was exhausted, and the reef line looked pretty far out, at least a football field. I would have had to swim out there by myself. So I just promised myself I'd be back another time.

Here I was again at the Lodge Kura Hulanda and it was a perfect day, and the water was even more beautiful and calm than I remembered. I got fins from the dive shop and headed to the beach with my snorkel and mask. A girl in my group said she was coming as well, and told me she was an avid diver and a former life guard. Great, a good dive buddy. "You should always snorkel with a buddy," my inner parent cooed with approval.

I started to see bait fish early on as I swam through the shallow waters heading deeper, and then there were some reef patches with some nice parrot fish, damsel fish and sargeant majors. But I wanted to see what was out farther, so I kept swimming as did my bud. A few more patches and the water turned a deep crystal-clear blue as it dropped off fairly precipitously.

Big schools of fish swam close to the surface and beneath them was reef for as far as the eye could see. The visability was at least 150 feet, and I was entranced by the abundance of coral and fish down below. Hmmm, it's probably this good or better in Bonaire, Curacao's sister island, I thought. No wonder divers are gaga about Bonaire. Suddenly I saw a flickering school of fish swimming in a circular swarm below. Swirling and swirling in a lovely vortex.

I made myself to remember periodically to check to see where my buddy was because we were exploring according to our own inclinations. As I was became ever more entranced she popped up near me and said she was going in. Not enough excitement for her, I thought.

But I was getting a bit drunk on the beauty of it all, and after she left, I got the notion to explore farther along the deep reefline paralleling the beach. It's easy to be seduced into following fish and going from one spectacle to the next, especially when you're not with a buddy. I wasn't concerned. I could see the beach, and some divers had surfaced not too, too far away.

But then I came up and noticed I was drifting far to the left of the beach and was in front of the Indian cliffs. In fact I noticed a strong current pulling me farther out. I better head back, I thought. I tried to swim directly back parallel to the beach but the current was so strong that I couldn't make much progress. I even tried swimming toward the cliffs, but that was difficult as well. When I floated, the current took me yet farther out toward the left and toward the deep sea. No one was anywhere near.

Oh no, I thought. This isn't very smart. How did I get in this situation? The Caribbean waters had looked so flat, so deceptively calm. Then it occurred to me: It's possible that the current may pull me so far out into the sea that I will eventually tire of keeping myself afloat and drown. I felt highly alert and a bit numb.

The more I thought about the negative possibilities, the more my heart began to race. "This is no time to panic," I directed myself, squelching a momentary urge to freak out. "That would be the worst thing you could do." Let me think about what I have heard about undertows, about not fighting them, about going along the path of least resistence.

What if I swim through the current at an angle? Not the easiest thing to do, but I did make some progress. Okay, I thought. I've got to focus. I've got to bear down and kick and stroke steadily. So that's what I did. And I pushed and pushed myself, not stopping because I knew I'd lose my progress. And before long I could see the sand was not too, too far beneath me. And I knew I'd soon be able to stand. And then I spied a large mound of dead coral, like a chunk of rock, and swam toward it, and stood on it and breathed heavily until I caught my breath.

What a relief! After I rested I swam back to some reef patches I'd seen near the shore. I spent a good 20 minutes more floating around the patches following the movements of squirrel fish, hog fish and other brightly colored fish. After the high anxiety of a few moments before, watching the marine creatures was powerfully calming.

Snorkeling has always been my sanctuary. The graceful movements of marine life, the dance of light in the water, the feeling of being buoyed up in the water hypnotises. When I'm snorkeling I feel I am flying along the edge of the sky and the sea. I am so very close to God.

Life has it's close calls, and every one of them is a lesson. I'm grateful I made my way back to Curacao to snorkel, and even more grateful I made my way back from snorkeling.

Finding the world in Curacao

My recent return to Curacao, more specifically Willemstad, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, allowed me to understand a little better the Caribbean island I just got a taste of on my first trip two years ago.

Curacao, sister island of Aruba, is home to 45 different ethnic groups from across the world. Natives of the island typically speak at least four languages fluently (Papiaments, Dutch, English and Spanish). Even the waterfront business district of Curacao's capital, Willemstad, is a rainbow of colors.

I originally visited Curacao for Carnival, and had the opportunity to march in one of the festival's parades. There's something about dancing down the road with a group of people from milky-white to espresso-brown celebrating together. I had such a healing, inspiring "We are the World" feeling that even now brings back fond memories.

While in Willemstad on my first visit I had the opportunity to tour Museum Kura Hulanda, an anthropological museum that explores the several of the primary cultures of Curacao. The museum was created by Jacob Gelt Dekker, owner of the adjacent Kura Hulanda hotel. One of the most in-depth areas of the museum chronicles the African slave trade, showing how much of the world either participated in it or was affected by it, and still is.

Formerly the grounds of the museum and the hotel were the site of slave trading on the island. But instead of silently ringing with the cries of inhumane treatment Africans experienced there, the place resonates with a great peace. Perhaps that's because its past has not be forgotten and its present is filled with beauty and a giving spirit. Dekker, a global entrepreneur and traveler, has founded many organizations that assist the children of Curacao, Africa and many other countries across the world.

His hotel, Kura Hulanda Hotel, a series of restored Dutch colonial homes, cobblestone streets and lush, green courtyards is a place of such peace and beauty, that I yearned to stay there when I first visited the museum and grounds. I was thrilled when the opportunity to do so recently came my way.

The several days I recently spent there filled me with peace and reinvigorated my spirit. In addition to taking the shuttle out to the sister property, Kura Hulanda Resort, for some oceanside pleasures, including snorkeling, I primarily spent my time relaxing at the boutique hotel and walking in Willemstad.

There's something wonderful about cozying up with a biography of Charles Darwin in a reading chair in a room that was built around the same time Darwin lived. (The only thing more relaxing was the massage I received in the spa.) Times I wanted to connect with my present, I took my laptop out to one of the property's many courtyards or al fresco cafes and chatted with friends via Facebook.

One of the high points of my trip was meeting Dekker and talking to him about some of his projects, including the medical diagnostic facility he's planning for Kura Hulanda. That operation will complement the dialysis center he also operates adjacent to the hotel. After talking to him I felt like I'd met a true Highlander, an immortal who has lived and touched many lives.

When I was younger I felt little to nothing was being done to help the downtrodden of the world, but I have become more optimistic. As I have lived I have been fortunate to meet people like Dekker, with both resources and desire, who are making a huge difference. But all of us can make some difference. Even if it seems small to me or you, it's huge to the person who is helped.

Lyrics of We are the World
by Michael Jackson and Lionel Ritchie

There comes a time
When we heed a certain call
When the world must come together as one
There are people dying
And it's time to lend a hand to life
The greatest gift of all
We can't go on pretending day by day
That someone, somewhere will soon make a change
We are all a part of God's great big family
And the truth, you know love is all we need

[Chorus] We are the world
We are the children
We are the ones who make a brighter day
So let's start giving
There's a choice we're making
We're saving our own lives
It's true we'll make a better day
Just you and me

Send them your heart
So they'll know that someone cares
And their lives will be stronger and free
As God has shown us by turning stones to bread
So we all must lend a helping hand

[Chorus] We are the world
We are the children
We are the ones who make a brighter day
So let's start giving
There's a choice we're making
We're saving our own lives
It's true we'll make a better day
Just you and me

When you're down and out
There seems no hope at all
But if you just believe
There's no way we can fall
Well, well, well, well, let us realize
That a change will only come
When we stand together as one

[Chorus] We are the world
We are the children
We are the ones who make a brighter day
So let's start giving
There's a choice we're making
We're saving our own lives
It's true we'll make a better day