Ten Road Lessons

Most days I think I could just live on the road, gypsy style, for months~

On some (rare) moments, I think it would be nice to be transported back home.  Those are the days when my leg hurts or my allergies are acting up, days when I remember my own bed fondly.

Yesterday started out being a need-to-go home day, but it ended no-way-not-done-yet.

Leaving Rivka's house on the East Bay, I crossed the Richmond Bridge--once on purpose, once by mistake, and a third time to get back on the right road.  Since I'd left my car the day before, I was driving Dinah Shore style, seeing the USA in a Chev-ro-let.

In a beautiful place like Marin County, with one pretty town after the other--not to mention coast lines and Mt. Tamalpais--I have the illusion that I can see everything, but that illusion always quickly disappears.

Lesson One of Road Travel: Get over thinking you can see everything.

Lesson Two: Don't devote more than the length of time it takes to drink a Diet Coke to regretting what you didn't see.

Lesson Three--at least for me: Avoid touristy places.  Ask strangers, do research, whatever it takes to find the places off the beaten track.

Lesson Four: Knowing that you aren't likely to "know" any place the way you know home--unless you move there and acquire some friends and property and a dog--plan to stay at least long enough to have some one-on-one conversations with every place you stop.  If you try to cover too much ground, all you have time for are quick handshakes with places.

Lesson Five: One of the first-day challenges of any new place is figuring out signage.  California signs are odd to my eyes, but it's started to make sense that freeway entrance signs are small and low to the ground.  Signage in general is understated and subtle which makes for way prettier towns, but it's difficult to find any golden arches in the morning.  Three times at gas stations, holding out my re-fillable cup like a beggar asking for a fountain drink, I've gotten blank stares and/or the question: what is a fountain drink?  And several times I've had to do U-Turns because the street signs in these beautiful villages are often crooked enough on their little poles that if you aren't from around here, you can't readily distinguish which road is Paradise and which road is Sir Frances Drake.

Lesson Six: AirB&B is the way to go, second only to staying with a friend or a cousin of a friend.  Research online before booking; every host has pictures, comments and reviews by previous guests.

Lesson Seven: People everywhere are mostly generous, kind, and helpful, especially when they see a single traveler who looks temporarily lost.

Lesson Eight: Mass transit (at least for a San Antonio girl) is confusing.  From here on out, if I can't get there by foot or by car,  I'm not going.

Lesson Nine: If you have to leave your car in a dealership for repair, be sure to take your charger with you in the loaner.

Lesson Ten: California is so healthy that it's hard to find good junk food, though I did manage to find a double-Snickers last night to get me through rush hour.

Last night, my GPS led me right to Bonnie's door: "Take River Road exit on the right, then turn right on such-and-such road, then left, then right, then right again." If you don't follow directions, she (Our Lady of GPS) will say, in what I'm certain is intended to be a chastening tone of voice, "Recalculating..." followed by an irritable pause, then: "Updated."

When I got here, Bonnie, her son, and the other two boarders all assembled in the living room and talked about our days, then Bonnie made us grilled cheese sandwiches.  I commented that I felt like I'd walked right into the Waltons.

Goodnight, John Boy!