Loving folks who get my humor

This morning I stopped to look at the waves breaking over the rocks and onto the road in Pacifica. And, while at it, I went to the Breakers Restaurant near the shoreline.

A young waiter took my order, was professional, had  a nice smile, which made be think he would understand my humor. I was right.

When he handed my my check, I asked, “Oh, do I have to PAY?”

A split second later, his response: “Shhhh, I won’t say anything. Quick, make a run for it.”

Finally, finally, finally, I found the motel in San F.

I left Auburn early enough this morning to take my time driving to San Francisco. Well, it rained nearly all the way, and due to several accidents, I got stuck in traffic more than once.

But that was nothing compared to finding the motel I reserved. Once I got into The City (that’s San Francisco to those who don’t live in Calif.), I immediately got lost in the maze.  I’m not exaggerating when I say it took two hours to find it. I asked 8 people for directions, and even tried to find a taxi I could follow, until folks honked their horns behind me, while I tried to explain to the taxi driver what I wanted him to do.

I’d almost find the right path and then I couldn’t turn to the correct direction, and had to drive out of the area before I could turn around. By the time I’d turn around, by driving to another street, I was way off the map.

One kind woman who I stopped and asked, put the map into my phone, but when I missed a street, I got lost again. It was so frustrating, but I didn’t cry, even though I felt like it.

You’d be surprised how many people think they know the right way, but tell you  the wrong way. Finally, three people outside of a building taking a smoke break, told me exactly the right way. I was so close but didn’t know it.

I’m in the motel, but not before I made everyone in the room waiting to sign in, laugh. I was a bit rummy from the long drive and the time being lost, that, by the time I was in the office to sign in, I was laughing…a bit hysterics, I think, but what the heck, it broke the seriousness of the evening for a few people in the office.

And I have a room. I got here too late to walk around and see The City, but by now, I don’t care.

When I left Auburn, I took a little side trip up the mountains and down the mountains to Placerville. That’s a lovely town with old houses left over from the mining days.

Goofin’ off

Still in Auburn, CA. until tomorrow. I drove to the OldTown and to Downtown to find the real Auburn and its history.

What I found were many shops selling the usual tourist goods. When looking at old towns, it always thrills me to see old buildings, old houses, post offices, old churches and schools, etc., but it’s getting to be more and more a place to buy more stuff we don’t need.

However, I did find an old drugstore that still had the original marble -top counter where you can belly up to the bar for ice cream and fountain drinks. I sat there for awhile until I realized the two workers in the store were too busy waiting on folks who had prescriptions to fill, so I left.

There were several art galleries full of some nice pieces. I also found a clock shop with new designs.  The town was busy and traffic is heavy, on the freeway and through the town.

I found Rally’s and bought some food to eat in my motel.

So tomorrow, I’m going to stay in San Francisco, and then return to Half Moon Bay. I’m thinking maybe the new landlady would let me move in a week earlier. I’ve been living out of my suitcase for nearly 5 months.

 

No longer homeless

I found a home, or should I say, a home found me?

My son sent me a text about a friend of theirs who was looking for a renter.

I had been waiting for a woman in Seaside to call me about the room for rent that I looked at a few days ago. I think she knew she would choose me but wanted to interview other folks, as well. Too bad she waited too long to get back in touch with me because I jumped ahead.

I saw the room in Half Moon Bay,  in an excusive area, on a golf course, with a security gate and guard. The woman who owns the house put a micro wave, refrigerator, and coffee pot in my room. However, I am welcome to use the rest of the house. It’s quite large. She told me she and her husband often have guests such as I, and enjoy it. Lucky me.

She’s a lovely person, lots of fun, knows my Half Moon Bay family, and has traveled like I have.

I will be here for at least 6 months to get my book finished.

Competing for one room

The housing situation is grim in these parts. I know because I’ve been competing for the least expensive places in the area. The money for these places would buy a more attractive place in another area, say, more inland.

I went to the house this afternoon, to where I had an appointment for an interview and to look at what is being offered for rent. The landlady, a woman who is the daughter of the owner,  turns out to be a lively 83 year old, and somewhat of a garden-artist.

The yard is full of plants, and some thriving from recycled washing machine water. She also has a compost pile to enrich the soil of the beautiful garden.

The living area is crowded with photos and books, couches and chairs – all with blankets tossed over them and cushions tossed helper skelter. But it is a cozy atmosphere and very homelike.

The bedroom for rent is quiet and faces a patio. There is a separate entrance to get into the room. The closet has wall-to-wall shelves. I won’t be able to bring all of my storage there, but much of it anyway.

So, I thought I was chosen, but after the interview and the look-see, she said there were 12 other people for her to interview.

I went back to Larry and Sue’s home where I’m staying, and put together ten things that I liked about the place and sent that off to her.

The landlady’s daughter replied back saying she thinks I will be chosen, but I know it is the decision of her mother.

It’s a home owner’s market, the renter has the burden to prove to be an honorable choice.

I’ll know on Saturday, if I will be the choice.

 

Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow

I hope tomorrow, I’ll have a home. I have an appointment to look at a room.

Larry and Sue have been great hosts for me, but I’m yearning for a place to call my own.

Today, not wanting to look for another place, either in person or online, I opted instead to get my hair done, in the style of the 50s. I learned in Colorado that the 50s hairstyle is coming back.

I also wanted to get a manicure. So, off I went to San Juan Batista, but the place was closed, so down the road I went to Prunedale, to a shop that only does nails, not hair. So back up the road to Hollister, determined to find a hair salon to get my hair styled and a manicure.

I called a shop I could see on the street that looked closed, but a woman there said they were open and come on in. I had said over the phone that I wanted my hair shampooed and blown dry and a manicure.

So she patiently worked my hair up to a ‘do’ and I liked it. She spent a long time on it and when finished, I said, okay now, my nails.
“Oh, we don’t do nails here.”

Lots of misunderstanding, but I have the hairstyle and decided my nails look okay. I was just trying to do something productive before tomorrow.

I’m hoping my searching for a place is over for awhile. It’s  just a room, so I won’t be able to get my storage out, but I can take my time and sell some on EBay. But the purpose of a quiet room, is to sit most every day to work on the next book; the story of my one year journey.

Looking for a place is harder than traveling the world

My headline up there says it all!

Looking for a place and the turmoil it causes one, makes traveling the world easy.

What an education it is nowadays, to find an apartment.

Every time I find a nice place and make the appointment to look at it, I’m joined with several other people; all vying for the same empty space. Yesterday, I helped a young woman get her wheel chair out of her car, so she could complete with me for an apartment, I had hopes for. Then when we met the manager, we were joined by two other couples, and one other person. The place would be perfect for me, and I’m sure it would be for the lovely young woman in the wheel chair.

Then, I got excited to find an ad on Craigslist that looked too good to be true. A three bedroom house, owned by someone who wanted it taken good care of until he returned from a year long job in another state. I fell for it and went to look at the house. An agent inside informed me the ad was a hoax. Sad.

Then another place I had my eye on, and had an appointment, also ended with a big zero. I waited at the appointed hour, and no one showed up, so I called the agent and asked what happened. She told me that no one was scheduled that day. She didn’t inform me that the showing was for the next day. I called back and asked if the showing was for the following day. Yes, she said. You only asked if it was shown today. Duh, why couldn’t she have just mentioned that I had the wrong day. She had my name?

Then other places that I can afford were either already taken or substandard.

So I looked at Craigslist again late last night and found a room with it’s own private garden patio. It seems perfect for me and I’ve already spoken to the woman who lives there and she seems very nice, and seems to like me, as well.

So, we’ll see how it goes. I really want an apartment to myself, but if this works out, I’ll be happy.

Looking for a nest

I feel like a bird. I’ve gathered everything I can think of to make a nest for myself, but it doesn’t seem to hang well on the tree.

An apartment. That’s all I want. Reasonable. I pay my bills on time. I can put a months rent in advance. I can pay a deposit. I’ll clean the place out to perfection whenever I leave. I don’t have pets. I’m constantly on Craigslist.

When I find a perfect place for me, it’s already rented. I guess I need to fly faster, huh?

The on bedroom apartment must be on the Monterey side of 101 from Marina on!

 

The dancer

It was against the rules to photograph or record the gamelan music last night, so I don’t have a photo of gamelan or the dancers, but here’s my best description.

Gamelan played the haunting sounds for two numbers, and on the third, the Gambyong Paranom piece, four dancers smoothed onto the stage in small steps, They wore brown/gold sarongs with a swag of red material across the waist and hips. They were adorned with gold necklaces and head pieces of gold over their hair pulled back into a bun. The dancers performed  a traditional dance from Java, with fluidity, following the rhythms of the music. With hand and foot gestures they manipulated the long yellow scarf they all wore around their necks.

My daughter-in-law, Aleida was one of the dancers. She looked gorgeous.

Gamelan is the name that covers around 20 – 25 musical instruments, with gongs, a stringed instrument, a flute, and drums. It is music, long pieces, that put you in a mountainside, near a jungle, mesmerizing you into a dreamy, quiet place in your mind.

The UC Berkeley Gamelan Class, and the Lestari Indonesia Dance Company performed.

Trying to find a nest

It isn’t easy looking for an apartment, I’ve learned today.

There was one that had a railing that needed to be painted. I felt if I ran my hand over it, I’d get splinters. Another place had the water heater inside the closet, which left only half a closet.

One other place where I was told would be open, was closed so I couldn’t look into it.

There IS something perfect for me, but I need to keep looking for it.

Meanwhile, it’s a long drive from Half Moon Bay to Monterey to look.