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| Art on the Street |
Being
a yoga junkie I have wanted to attend a Restorative Teacher Training session
with the guru, Judith Lasater for some time. The Relax & Renew Workshop is
offered twice a year, and the San Francisco dates are always in mid-summer when
Tails-By-The-Bay Dog Camp is slammed. But this year I decide to book early with
the intention of getting a dogsitter and attending the session anyhow.
Sometimes it means planning in advance, which is something I’m not the greatest
at, but nevertheless on July 22, 2012 I find myself in the city by the bay ready
to start training in the AM.
Arriving
at SFO airport at 8 PM I have booked a shuttle to 312 Mason Street, the
International Hostel in Union Square. Rooms are only $42/night compared to
$150-$200 other places. I get to the hostel around 10 PM and find myself in the
top bunk of a 4-person female dorm. This is okay for tonight but tomorrow
morning I will ask to be moved to a different room so that I can have a bottom
bunk. Staying at hostels is my mode of operation when traveling alone. They are
full of interesting people and the inconvenience of peeing down the hall
doesn’t bother me because the price is right. This particular hostel does not
have a gang bathroom like most, but instead has individual rooms with a shower,
and individual rooms with a green toilet. Okay so that means there is a sink on
the back of the toilet that runs clean water that would normally be wasted,
every time you flush. So once you pee you can turn around and wash your hands
with the free flowing water – pretty cool.
The
next morning I get up early and start to brush my teeth when it is ‘suggested’
by one of the Swedish girls that I do that elsewhere so I would not wake up the
roommate. Okay so where do I do that, I ask and they tell me in the toilet
using the sink on the back. I ignore them and proceed to quietly brush my teeth
in the sink located in the room. If you can’t be flexible living in a hostel
then why do it? I’m definitely getting a different room.
After
getting dressed, doing my hair and promptly ignoring their disgusted faces I
went to the front desk and ask to be moved. Not a problem, they moved me next
door to a bottom bunk, and get this - the room has a private bath and the
price is the same. Yipppeee! Goodbye Swedish chicks, I’m out of here! And I
have a private bath to share with only three other women! Sorry about your
luck, but you can brush your teeth in the toilet.
Not
sure exactly where the workshop is in the city I decide that I am going to
exercise and enjoy the weather in California. I have my GPS that can find any
address I need. The yoga workshop is at the Yoga Tree Castro on 18th
Street. I find the location on my IPhone approximately 2.5 miles away. We are
required to bring three blankets, a yoga mat, a strap, a textbook, and eye
pillow with us. The studio will provide everything else. Needless to say I have
a suitcase to tote along with me on my walk to the Castro. The route takes me
down Market Street, passing many interesting characters along the way. The
homeless people set up camps on the street and sleep late in the morning sun.
If I were homeless I too would want to be in the California sun.
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| Relax & Renew |
I
find the Yoga Tree in time to check in and then find a coffee café called
Spikes where I have a decaf, skinny latte before class. Our sessions start at
11:15 and end promptly at 4:15 with a 30-minute break to visit the organic
grocery store across the street to grab a salad, and sit out front in the sun
to enjoy it. The workshop is everything I thought it would be and more. Lasater
is a gifted, motivational, spiritual teacher. So many interesting people from
all over the world, psychotherapists, care givers, psychologists, physical
therapists, yoga instructors and one lone dogsitter. A classmate living
directly across the street volunteered to store our belongings in her apartment
so we wouldn’t have to take them home each night. Can you imagine, there were
80 of us. That was so kind of her to offer her living area as a storage room
and we were extremely grateful. That means I have no excuse but to run the 2.5 miles
to class. For the next five days I ran to class every morning and walked home
in the afternoon. Essentially racking up 5+ miles of exercise daily. The sun
was shining, the wind was blustery and the smell of the city was extraordinary.
All sorts of food odors intermingled to assault the sensory orifice and keep
one hungry all the time – great marketing strategy. On the final day of class I
decide to take a yoga vinyasa class at 9 AM that kicked my ass, prior to the
workshop. It was tough but I preserved knowing it was all for the good of my
body.
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| Twin Peaks |
San
Francisco is a lovely city where anything goes. On Thursday evening near the
corner of Market & Castro, in front of a bar called Twin Peaks I stop in my
tracks when I see a completely naked young man standing there, leaning back on
a brick wall, sunning himself. I was so startled but didn’t want to stare so I
just kept walking like everyone else wishing I could get a picture. But of
course that would draw big time attention my way, so instead I just glanced out
of the corner of my eye as I passed by. No one seems to even notice. Well, okay
I don’t want to act like a tourist so I keep moving wondering what the hell
that was about. And then, on Friday on my way home on the same street counter,
the sun is out and there is a different naked man, this time he’s older with a
cowboy hat, absolutely nothing else. Of course I keep moving but cannot resist
asking the guy walking next to me about it. He replied, “oh, it’s just San
Francisco, and it is legal here as long as they don’t fondle themselves.” He
mumbled something about Cincinnati being conservative while trying to be
liberal contrasting it by saying San Francisco is liberal with a conservative
slant. . . whatever that means. So now I know, if you want you can stand on a
street corner naked in San Francisco and no one will even notice, let
alone care. What a shocker especially for an isolated Homerite that doesn’t
always know what goes on in the rest of the world.
My
final morning I am up at 4 AM to catch the shuttle that will arrive at 5:02
taking me to United Airlines where I will catch yet another flight to Newark
connecting to Flight #56 to Paris. Goodbye beautiful San Francisco by the bay.
I am leaving a piece of my heart with you. People are friendly and
non-judgmental, the food is fabulous, the wine even better, the Bay sparkles
and the weather rocks, at least while I was there. And, the Cindy Sherman
retrospective at the MOMA is a must see.
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I
will be back! The wanderlust never rests.
