Journal Journeys

Thick sharpie, crumbled edges. Nothing about it was meant to be perfect.

Still a bit dreary-eyed having awakened from our deep sleeps and only just finished munching on our breakfast of warm homemade cornbread and tea, we filed out of Li’s house in Alameda to start our journey through San Francisco. Bundled up for the morning’s chill, with my jacket stuffed with necessities: wallet, headphones, chapstick, gum, sunglasses, rogue dairy relief pills and a GoMacro Bar (always), we strolled to the bus stop.

I soon noticed my friend Ellie’s journal tucked under her thick leather-jacketed arm, which seemed to me as a last-minute thing to grab. With our plans to rush around SF in attempts to cover many bases of the large city and see as much as possible, I wondered when she would find the time to sit down and draw intricate pictures.

But through the day’s adventures, I was reminded by this scrappy journal, and Ellie’s ever-curious and lighthearted nature, of the beauty in the mundane, and that time is too precious to be running through it.

A short ride on the O Bus transported us safely to the Salesforce Transit Center — a $6 well spent, seeing as we got to escape the troublesome hunt of parking in the city.

We quietly strolled along the path of this little plant-heaven in the sky, enjoying the beauty of the gloomy, overcast morning contrasted with the bright, native flowers and green, lush plants.

I quickly felt mesmerized by the people passing me by, and comforted by the random runners, dog-walkers, businessmen and families sharing this communal space with one another. And for Ellie, the buildings, each their own, towering over us as well as the landscaping layout were enough to stop her in her tracks and leave her in constant admiration. Quick sketches and blooming ideas were added to her journal.

With Ellie’s interest in landscape architecture, she was always in admiration of how something was made to involve communities, bring people and nature together in all-accessible places. This made me then notice on a deeper level, the extent of interconnectedness. How I could roam the city alone and feel a deep sense of connection to everyone around me.

We then started our stroll through the city, giving our friend Marije, who’s an exchange student from the Netherlands, her first taste of San Francisco. En route to China Town, we floated up the many streets, following Li, the Bay Area local and our very own, personal tour guide.

We stopped in Vital Tea Leaf to buy a package of Iron Goddess King tea– which we had enjoyed with Li and her parents the night before. However, our quick visit turned into an unanticipated, slow and methodical tea-tasting session.

Settling into little seats along a long wooden bar, we sipped on an array of teas, made for us by a talented and knowledgable woman. Crafting perfect cups of tea while teaching us the history and health benefits of each, we tried Pu’er, a fermented Chinese tea which aides in digestion and can be pressed and aged for 50+ years.

In between sips, short sentences in Chinese were written in Ellie’s journal, with Li helping her. “Wo xihuan he cha” which translates to “I like to drink tea,” and other phrases adorned this page.

Warm and sleepy we returned our stroll down the streets, following Li into Begoni Bistro for a lunch of delicious dim sum. With one giant menu, Li checked off boxes of 6 or 7 items, and the rest of us trusted that whatever she picked would be good.

And we were not wrong. One by one, dishes of steamed dumplings stuffed with pork or shrimp, thick noodles drenched in soy sauce and chives, and sweet custard buns flooded our table. As each came out, our faces would light up, our conversations would dim, and we would munch in a happy, communal silence.

Filing out of the restaurant, we headed straight to Matcha Cafe Maiko a few blocks away, to finish our meal off with a sweet matcha ice cream. It was decided that my lactose intolerance would be neglected this weekend, for I found a higher significance in experiencing the city through the diverse food– no matter the tummy ache that would come later.

Munching and strolling, we made our way to Portsmouth Square, a communal park in amongst the sea of surrounding buildings. With kids enjoying the play structures, couples sitting on benches, Chinese opera singers playing and the abundance of nature all around, walking through the park was an idyllic experience.

I was also fascinated by the small groups of older Chinese women, spotted all around the park, with their carts and sun hats, sitting on mini step-stools or buckets. Huddled around their makeshift cardboard tables, they passed the time gambling with pennies.

As we strolled we came upon another section of the park, filled with what looked like a hundred men, gambling, playing poker and Xiangqi, a board game, as Li later told me.

Sitting above the street, feet dangling off the edge of the bridge walkway connecting park-goers to the Chinese Culture Center, we finished our ice cream. We got honks and waves by people below, and even one guy stopping traffic to snap a picture of us. However our time was cut short there as we got told off by park rangers (1st of the day).

After our short time in China Town, I quickly came to appreciate its vibrant culture and hidden treasures. From sipping hot tea, and eating dim sum and matcha ice cream, to sitting idly in the park and watching old ladies gamble with pennies, I was overrun by gratitude. Gratitude for the sense of community and for the yummy restaurants tucked neatly into the city streets.

Having been to San Francisco many times, I’ve passed through China Town on occasion. But without the knowledge of these little places of bliss or the ability to slow down, I missed them all.

We hopped in an Uber and were transported across the city to Fort Point for a change of scenery. Slowly walking along the rocks and crashing waves, the black specks in the water soon appeared to be brave surfers enjoying their rides under the towering Golden Gate bridge.

As we all walked along the edge of the water together, every now or then I would look back and realize we lost Ellie. She would be stopped, eyes looking up at the bridge and down at her page, as quick sketches emerged in the journal.

From the intricacies of the bridge, to the boats passing by and trees lining our path, this journal was filled with simple, everyday mundanities. And with this ability to see these simple moments for all of their beauty, the day was filled with extra wonder and value.

After walking along the water, we made our way into the fort, which was used for military purposes during WWII and declared a national historic site years later.

Up many flights of stairs and spiraling cases, we found our way to the top level and situated ourselves in the sun, feet dangling off the edge of the fort. Ocean gleaming, boats sailing by, seagulls soaring arms reach from us, we sat in silence, taking in the expansive view and beauty that the moment had to offer.

As I sat there, focused on everything around me, little details came into focus. The rushing of cars overhead and the intricate features of the Golden Gate Bridge mesmerized me. Even the simple ebb and flow of water below our dangling feet reminded me of my yoga teacher at school, where each class she reminds us we can resort to ujjayi breathing to feel a deep connection within our bodies. As a form of pranayama, where one breathes solely through the nose with no breath passing the lips, one can sink into their breathe and feel mesmerized by the ocean wave-like noise passing through our throats that mimics the flow of the ocean.

And of course, our time up there meant a new page was added to the journal– this time a drawing competition between Li and Ellie.

At some point our trance was soon broken, as park rangers told us to get down (#2 of the day)! But the time spent there, basking in the sun and taking in the gorgeous views that surrounded us, I felt a deep sense of connection with myself, my friends and the beauty of the natural world.

Making our way home, I watched as Ellie’s innocent fascinations slowed her stroll through the city. The buildings, and the intricate architecture were quickly drawn and folded into the pages of her journal.

In the Uber, I looked over my shoulder as she drew a building’s fire escape stairs, the spiraling staircase from Fort Point, and any ideas fluttering into focus as possible additions to her school studio projects.

Even riding the escalator back up to the Sales Force Transit Center, Ellie spilled fleeting memories and mundane happenings onto the pages. Little feet that looked like ants a floor above us are drawn too.

Cuddled up at the back of the bus, our hands passed the journal back and forth between us, drawing, in an act of mutual remembrance.

As the sun set over the bay and night washed over us, I sat staring out of the window, overrun by experience. Despite only being out for seven hours, I sat with the day’s abundant and precious moments. As I zoned out, the recollections of our slow and unforced drift through the city washed over me, and I was left sitting in a deeply calmed state.

It was a beautiful day with beautiful friends. I’ve visited the city many a-time, having lived an hour away my whole life. With parents, or spur of the moment trips with high school friends, the city has offered me something different every time. This time, bundled up, learning and noticing, our journey wandering down streets was one I’ll never forget.

And the innocent sweet drawings, in the journal passed between us, holds all of our shared memories and quick scrawls of fascinations passing us by. Letting them be just that — messy, quick drawings, make them even more sweet. Because memories jumbled in one’s brain or sprawled on the page, are always worth remembering.