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| Our Capital on the Edge Troupe, Praying at Hilltop Community Church in Richmond, California |
The night to beat all
nights! Richmond-bound... Honestly, in coming to San Francisco, I hadn’t quite
realised the intricacies of this grandiose city.
In the center, the
very heart of the city, the resonating sound was diversity, diversity,
DIVERSITY! The boys, embarrassingly, laughed out loud, pointed fingers, held
hands and trotted along.
Lots of Frisco people
racing around, busy as little bees, with work far too important, the
complexities of which you and I could never even begin to fathom. Oh my… The scene
was akin to something out of Sydney’s CBD, as close to Circular Quay as
possible – without getting your tootsies wet.
Head further south and
it starts out with “posh”, but ends up in “middle-America.” We still have
pedigree dogs, but you come across less snooty bling-clad restaurants and more
golden arches, if you know what I mean. It’s kind of like you go to Sydney’s Bondi
Beach, then head south, every kilometer taking you towards the inevitable,
Cronulla – the Sharks…
Over on the other side
of the bay, and just over the hill, you arrive in Silicon Valley’s Legolanburbia.
It is wealth, but the opposite kind of wealth to that of south San Fran.
Stuff is valued
because it’s antique in southern SFO, whereas in the dizzying delights of
Dublin, new is the prized possession.
In Fris-sur we want
convenience, whereas in Walnut Creek we’ll go an extra mile for imported this
and handmade that.
In suburbia adjoining the
metropolis we take trains, ride bikes, catch the bus… In Concord, we drive
Corvettes. If we’re in Sydney, then we’re cruising through the newer parts of
the Hills district.
Last but not least is
the east side of the bay. Oakland is the hub, but there are many other parts
with a similar type of carefree wonder, Richmond being one of them. And yes, in
Sydney, the name would possibly remain the same. Get on a train at Central,
head out through Strathfield, Parramata and Blacktown… Eventually you’ll hit
Richmond, or vice versa.
It was a LONG trip. We
left salubrious San Carlos at 4:40pm, and didn’t make it to Richmond until just
a little after 7pm. We were moving at all times, and managed to make tight
connections, but somehow just took forever to get there. Kind of like getting
on at Katoomba, in the Blue Mountains, and catching one of Sydney’s notoriously
slow trains to the city’s center, stopping at every station along the way, for
the convenience of one or less passengers.
But it didn’t matter,
we amused ourselves in any case. Sez, of course, humiliated me time-after-time
with his incessant train(ing) gymnastics, utilising every metal bar aboard the
lazy LOCOmotion to fling himself from near-to-far.
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| Sezni, on the BART (California) |
Yet most of Sezni’s
beautifully executed sequences ended in fail, thumbs down, due mostly to the
rattling movement of the train. The reproduction of many daring feats
inevitably annoyed most of our fellow passengers. Of course I was left to mouth
insincere looking apologies, whilst simultaneously and invisibly, disciplining
the loveable little critter.
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| Our travels in the BART (Californian Bay Area Rail Transit) with Sez going LOCOmotion... |
What do you do with a
child for 3 hours on a train? (please don’t answer this, unless it’s only in
your head, or unless you’ve got a kid with Asperger’s Syndrome or ADD. And I especially don’t want
to hear from you folk who’ve only spawn girls, or if you’ve read your Growing Kids God’s Way book,
or worse – done the 4 week course, and now think you’re an expert!)
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| On the BART (Francesca, Jonny & Lorenzy) |
One of our train rides
was made especially enjoyable by an overly friendly “homeless man.” I honestly
don’t know what was said, the stench was that deafening. My eyes watered for
the entire duration of our train trip and the impulse to heave was
overpowering.
Then I wondered if I’d
remembered to brush my teeth... Perhaps that horrible odor, permeating throughout
the carriage, sickening me to the stomach, originated from me. If true, boy was
I in trouble. It couldn’t have been. My fellow commuters were far too repulsed,
and so I knew it had to be the friendly homeless man. And that’s what I
continued to tell myself until we arrived at El Cerrito del Norte – where I
whisked my way past my entourage, nearly trompling them all to death, heading
straight for the chewy-selling kiosk.
But still, how come
all of my boys and kids were so engrossed in this scary looking, homeless man? Why
were they all smiling, laughing, chatting, relating, lovingly. I hadn’t
specifically told them to love the unlovely. They didn’t even know a lick of
English, and yet the conversation flowed.
The homeless man’s
face seemed full of pride – he had an audience, he was being friended. My heart
swelled with pride too. I loved seeing those with a new hope, giving it away so
freely - confident in an unending supply, no worries there…
And as luck would have
it, the vagrant turned out to be Father Christmas! (except not groomed, nor as
hygienic – but I’ve never met Santa, so it’s all guesses on my part) Not only
was he being doted upon, he was also giving away phones. “MEEEEEERRY
CHRISTMAS!!!” ho ho ho ho…
Rene was the lucky
fellow who received an i-something-or-rather, but the joy amongst the group was
almost as tangible as the cloud of stench that hovered around – have I
mentioned how RIDICULOUSLY DISGUISTING SOMETHING SMELLED ON THAT TRAIN? If we
hadn’t been running so very late, I would have jumped off and caught the next
train. Yet because of time constraints, I merely poked my head out of the
carriage doors every time they opened at a stop. Unforgettable memories…
Cherishable!
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| Capital on the Edge crew with a homeless man on the BART in San Francisco |
Now the one thing you
HAVE to know about San Francisco’s Bay is… it’s freezing cold, all year round, the
day and month being completely irrelevant. We were quite unprepared for the
Arctic conditions of Richmond’s BART station. Who could have foretold that we’d
need our mittens, beanies and thermal underwear?
Well, we waited and
waited and waited and waited. Of course, I still hadn’t purchased my telephone
at this point (thanks Liz!), and so I wasn’t able to call our Church contact,
Pastor Corey.
Long story short,
Corey was also at the same station as us, but waiting for us at the other end
(2 entrances). I approached several people, asking for a loan of their phone,
most of whom looked at me like I was some kind of deranged pervert. Eventually
a lady, who appeared to be blind, allowed me to use her telecommunicative (I
think I just made up my second word in this blog!) device and of course Corey
and I were both surprised to learn that we were both there, waiting for each
other.
Corey was a cool, bald
headed, athletically good lookin lad from San Diego (I liked him in an
instant!). He was a nice bloke, softly spoken, but clearly distracted on
account of our lateness. We cruised into the Hilltop Community Church parking
lot somewhere around 7:30pm, Corey on the phone with his leaders, gently
guiding.
We left our Latino and
Caucasian World in the van which sat snugly behind us. My eyebrows nearly
lifted the toupee from my scalp upon observation of my new friend, Corey the
youth pastor, who just seconds before was a white chap from suburbia.
His pants went down
about 6 inches and his cap swiveled around 180 degrees. All of a sudden he was
wearing sunnies and talking like a gangbanger! His lingo became lazy, he was
indeed my brother from another mother…
As a travel agent I
learnt that I had to mirror the person in front of me to get the sale. If I was
talking with an elderly lady, then out came the tea cups. If I was with a groovy,
hip young couple, then I talked everything pop culture. If I was with a mother
and her toddler aged children, then hey-presto, I was indeed the daddy-daycare
center. And so it was with Corey – he mirrored the culture of his youth and was
HIGHLY effective because he did so.
Our troupe COMPLETELY
went for it, singing and dancing with all their might. It seemed like a tough
crowd at the onset, but from about the 10 minute mark not a word was spoken
from the audience. Those on-looking eyes became as big as saucers with plenty
of oooohs and aaaahs to-boot. At one point I chuckled to myself, it was like a
rock concert. Every hand was in the air with cellular devices capturing every movement.
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| Praying for Pastor Corey at the end of our night at Hilltop Community Church, in Richmond, California |
In the end, we found
the people at Hilltop to be quite phenomenal and cannot wait to return there
next year. This Church is clearly bent on evangelism and loving their world.
The people being brought in were evidence of this love. Yet in my plans to
return, I must stipulate and make it quite clear that my pants will always
cover my bot-bot, so sorry I’m not hip enough, I hope you’ll still have us... By
way of side note, yet again there was a bunch of Nicaraguans in attendance!
HELLO to you, thanks for having us…
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| The BART was full of loons, Yordy & raffy being two of them - check out Fran's interest level to the rear... |
And of course our 3
train trip home was hysterical. We laughed and enjoyed the good times – again, plenty
of smelly homeless people to love, and yes, Raffy felt the need to witness to each
one of them. God love that child!!!
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| Jed, Raf & Sez, on our INFAMOUS night in Richmond, BART, San Carlos |
We arrived at San
Carlos without a phone to use (Rene’s newly acquired needed to be charged up),
and there wasn’t a soul around to harass for a lend. And so we kicked up our
heels up and began to walk. Whilst we started off rather chipper, we nearly
crawled through the doors of that San Carlos House. Of course the lads and my
darling daughters raced home, but I was left to plod along with Sez and Raf.
Sezzy is always fine,
until he’s not. And at that point his problems become everyone’s problems. He
becomes intolerable. Of course, Raffy is the all-knowing, all-seeing philosopher
when he doesn’t have any problems of his own, or when he wants to be entertained by the
problems of others – he’s human too.
And so Sezni whinged for the duration of
our walk home, Rafael countering every complaint with a useful little tidbit or
suggestion, each of which only infuriated his older brother all the more. Somehow
I managed to fall into the pattern of telling-off Sezni, whenever Rafael spoke,
and telling off Raffy whenever Sez spoke. By the end of our trail I was ready
to string them both up in complete frustration. Brothers! Who needs 'em! We all do...
We fell asleep before our heads even hit the pillows - we needed it, the next day was to be one of our most trying.
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