TIME FOLLOWS ME

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX CHINATOWN, FRENCH DRESS SHOP AND THE REDWOODS

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHINATOWN, FRENCH DRESS SHOP

AND THE REDWOODS

It was early morning as I wandered down to Chinatown. I past under red wooden carved arches, with dragons breathing fire on either side. I followed my nose, my sense of smell keen. Entering one of the shops I ordered stir-fried wrap and a coconut bun. Everything was fresh and home prepared by these older Chinese women behind the counter who smiled at me. In my pocket I fingered the Chinese coin that Mom had given me back in Idaho Falls. I wondered if she had got it here or on a boat coming back from China.

The sun brightly lit the park with lots of shade trees and very green grass. It was very peaceful after all the activities happening on the farm in Booneville. I saw some older Chinese men and women practicing Tai Chi in a group. I stopped to watch them for a while. Their movements were in unison and seemed to be in harmony with the trees, the leaves fluttering in the wind and even the distant occasional honk of a truck or taxi going by on the busy street. In their world, doing their Tai Chi they seemed to be in sync with everything. I promised myself that I would look into this moving mediation when I finished my trip.

I got out the phone number of Rich's Mom and decided to give her a call. A woman with an accent answered the phone and I explained who I was and how I had met Rich. She said to come and meet her at her work later that day at 5pm. She also told me Rich had arrived a few days earlier and was staying with her. I was really happy that he had got there, as I didn't feel like encumbering her too much with my presence. I thought that calling her still was the right thing to do.

The streets in San Francisco are very hilly and steep. So I went walking and at some point took the trolley. You just jump on at any time and pay your fare. I rode one for a while looking out the window at the passing shops. At around 5pm I followed the numbers until I stood outside this Parisian Dress Shop. It looked very fancy, I thought this couldn't be the right address. After some "himming and hawing," I walked through the door as a bell tinkled above my head. Me in my shabby jeans, old faded T-shirt and hiking boots was careful not to brush against anything with my knapsack. An older respectable looking French woman walked up to me. I said, "Hi, my name is Pete, do I have the right address? I'm a friend of Rich."

She said, "Mes Oui, common sais va?" "Sais va bien, merci," I said thinking immediately of Mrs. French my Grade 11, high school French teacher. She would be proud of me. She continued to teach even as she was going through the last stages of liver failure and had to take time off for dialysis. She looked really beaten up near the end, her translucent skin tinted yellow. But, she always kept an enigmatic smile on her face and stayed positive.

Rich's Mum chirped up, "I just have to close the shop in a few minutes so just make yourself comfortable, Rich is waiting at home for us." I looked around the shop. It was filled with the most beautiful dresses I have ever seen. It was a treat for the eyes. The material the designers used was thin and elegant with obvious care to the stitching. I imagined the women who wore these would all be very beautiful.

Seeing Rich and Speaker again was a blast. Rich said he wanted to show me the sights of San Francisco the next day. We had dinner and I told Rich and his Mom about some of my travels and about the Moonies in Booneville. Rich said that they could "brainwash people" and it was good that I got out. I said, "There are some good people there," and left it at that.

Rich wanted to show me the lights of the city that night, so after dinner we got back in the old Valiant, and headed up to this Pinnacle Park that was supposed to have a great view. The road up was very narrow and winding and I wondered if the car would make it. At the top was a big statue of some religious figure or saint, and sure enough the lights of San Francisco spread out beneath us, and seemed to go on and on. I was thinking that each light represented at least one person or family. There must be at least a few million lights. It was impressive, but it left me with a feeling of loneliness.

Rich acted as tour guide and said that on the weekend we would drive down south to Santa Cruz down Highway 1 beside the ocean and into the Redwood Forest. This seemed like a plan. In the next couple of days after Rich's Mom had insisted that she wash all my clothes, we went down to Fisherman's Wharf the tourist area and watched the street performers. When the trolley came, and did a turnaround at the loop, the performers, jugglers on unicycles would entertain the crowds barking out their comedy routines and being sure to pass the top hat. They seemed to make a good haul and the crowd really loved them.

Rich said, "You can't visit San Francisco without stopping at the best hotdog stand."

We drove around the city and stopped at this place with a large open window. We ordered Chili Dogs, first I ever had and washed it down with two bottles of ice-cold coke. Great lunch. I was feeling like I wanted to hitchhike up North back to Canada via Seattle and Vancouver Island, but first I would see the Redwoods.

The drive south was just an hour or so to Santa Cruz, and then a bit further south until we entered Redwood National Park. You drove in on a road that wove between the red wood trees, which were huge, magnificent. If you looked up, you could barely see the top as they swayed in the wind. The smell in the air was fresh with the aroma of cedar. Rich's Mom had packed a picnic so we found a place to park under a red wood and ate at a picnic table. She had brought fresh baguette bread, cheese of different kinds and meats and pate. I had never eaten or heard of pate before and had no intention of trying liver. Sounded gross to me and smelled worse. They were so hospitable to me and wanted me to see the area and it's beauty. I was content to be guided around by these generous people. I think they appreciated my enthusiasm for the hundreds of years old trees. I loved those trees and especially the smell of cedar.

On the way back we stopped and climbed down some rocky cliffs to the beach, following a well worn, narrow path. I felt like swimming so I just jumped in and swam in my shorts. I swam diagonally to the beach, as there was a fierce rip tide and undertow that could pull you out into the ocean. I had achieved another one of my goals, which was to dip my toes in the Pacific Ocean.

Time again to move on, so after a nice dinner of roasted chicken French style, with a bit of wine, I thanked them for the day, and told them I would be leaving in the morning. I felt very blessed to be sharing this elegant meal made by this charming French Lady, Richard's Mum. I gave a little toast and we all clinked glasses, something simple like, " To your health and good friendship." I left that next day. Rich dropped me off at the freeway heading north. I just needed to walk down the ramp and past the sign that said, "No Hitchhiking."