4/12/2013. - Day 17 - Monterey Bay. Cannery Row. And Calm in the Midst of the Storm.

Historic Cannery Row

4/12/2013. - Day 17 -
Monterey Bay. Cannery Row.
And Calm in the Midst of the Storm.

“It’s all fine to say, “Time will heal everything, this too shall pass away. People will forget”—and things like that when you are not involved, but when you are there is no passage of time, people do not forget and you are in the middle of something that does not change.” 
― John Steinbeck, Cannery Row

Jellies

It's a bit cloudy in Monterey this morning, but still warm enough for shorts in my opinion. In the morning I chat with the staff to decide on local attractions. I feel great (TempurPedic hostel mattresses? Unbelievable. Yet true.) so I book a second night. The staff are extremely friendly, and also offer me a free pass to the aquarium--a $40 value for the price of your innocence being scarred by last night's discussion on aging and hormones courtesy of your roommates. Seems like a deal.

Sea Dragons

Exploring the aquarium takes up most of my day. The attractions are spectacular, with an entire area devoted to sea horses and jellyfish, a kelp forest, playful otters, and a huge tank filled with sharks, sea turtles, and other marine wildlife. Aside from the exhibits, there are also a variety of entertaining social situations. There are kids running everywhere and I have noticed random adults with "chaperone" name tags. I feel bad for them as they are clearly in state of constant chaos. "Don't put that in your mouth!" and "come down from there!" are common expressions. Then, one of the greatest social observations I've ever seen takes place:

Seahorses

I am in the lunch line at the Monterey Bay Aquarium, just trying to buy a sandwich. The kid at a table nearby is spitting, and the one behind me keeps inching closer to me and crowding my space and touching my belongings. But the best is the kid in front of me in the line. Her mom is holding up the whole line because she borrowed the cashier's scissors to open the kid's lollipop. The kid is standing there saying, "I WANT to go BACK to the PLAYGROUND!" After several agonizing seconds, the lollipop is finally open. As the mom checks out with the rest of her items, which includes a small plastic bottle of wine, she says, "We are NOT going to the playground right now; mommy needs to drink this wine and wine is NOT allowed on the playground."
I bust out laughing.

Sand Dollars

Otter taking a nap in his bucket!

Baby swell shark (bottom left) and swell shark cases (top right and bottom right, brown in color). One of the coolest
things I saw today. The upper right hand case has a baby shark about due to hatch. The sharks make these cases for
their babies, out a material similar to our fingernails. The curly parts attach to ocean coral and plants to help keep the
cases from floating away in the sea, and the cases protect the babies as they grow. God's creatures are amazing!

The rest of the afternoon I spend exploring Cannery Row and all the shops. I learn about Steinbeck and make a note to read the book with the name of the historic area which I am enjoying. I also watch sea otters playing in the bay area.

 Cannery Row is bustling with tourist activity and a busy wharf with marine life and fishermen going about their business. I am suddenly aware of how alone I am in the midst of all of this as I pass groups of friends sharing jokes, families toting children, and couples holding hands and wandering the streets together. The shorts alone have labeled me as tourist as the locals and more well traveled visitors are bundled up. As this awareness sinks in, I am instantly cloaked in a blanket of cold air and self consciousness. Goosebumps rise up on my skin and I shiver and rub my arms trying to find warmth within. This place I am in--this exploring and learning and and fly by the seat of your pants place--it can be great and wonderful and fulfilling, and yet suddenly it can turn upside down and become a very isolated place despite the constant activity that swirls around me like a snowstorm while I  stand frozen in time and watch it move around me. 

In the eye of this storm, it's hard sometimes to see that after the wind subsides and the sun comes out, you will be warm again, things will bloom, and the seasons will advance. Everyone else can see it, and can guide you and encourage you. But when it's you, when it's your storm and you are directly in the heart of it, it doesn't blow over and it doesn't warm up and sometimes you can't see the part where things get better. It's a tough place to be lost in, trapped and standing still. And as Steinbeck writes, time does pass slowly and change seems imperceptible. There is pressure from the outside world to move forward into the next season, to push through the cold ground and bloom-- and yet you lag behind in the previous one, knowing you should move forward but feeling frozen with a late frost that refuses to thaw.

Fortunately, despite all efforts we make during these darker and colder times to slow the passage of time so that we can grieve, heal, forgive, learn, or move past whatever obstacle has stopped us in our tracks, time does not stop for us. We can discourage the changing of the seasons, and beg them to wait for us to heal in our own time, but they continue to move forward and grow and bloom and rise up and die off and return to the earth only to bloom again with life anew. And this is how it must be for us to grow and continue to evolve and move forward. And this is good.

My days on this trip have been so very full with happiness; but it would be an imbalance to not have a cloud pass over from time to time. A song, a familiar scent, a small child--such seemingly random images conjure up fond memories; and while most are happy, I find myself paused for a moment while the storm of a distant memory swirls around me. But it passes. Each time it passes and it helps to remember that.

Sunset over Monterey Bay

I think we all go through some sort of storm from time to time, for whatever reason or because of various events. I think it's good for us to have these experiences and grow through them. Not all storms are unpleasant and we can learn so much from these times. I know this sounds like crap when we are in the storms though and growth is the last thing we feel we will get out of the turmoil and pain we are experiencing. But we move forward. We must continue moving forward. We grow without realizing it at first, and without appreciating it for some time. But we have no other choice but to move forward. And this too, is good.

When I return to the hostel, I notice someone has scrawled "we are two backpackers who need a ride to the Big Sur tomorrow morning" across the white board at the front desk. I ask the staff member at the desk if he knows who these "backpackers" are. He does not. I indicate that I am going to the Big Sur tomorrow morning, and ask him to evaluate them when they come back to check their wanted ad. If they do not seem like serial killers, I tell him I may be able to help them and ask that he come and let me know.

I set up camp in the lobby to do some writing. There is a man sitting at the far table, eating directly from a tub of ice cream. He is a genius. 

After an hour or so, the staff member appears and points one of the backpackers out to me. He is a lanky teenager in skinny jeans. I remark that I am not sure he even looks old enough to be traveling the country alone, suggest we call his mom and report him as a runaway, and make an immediate assessment that he is definitely not a serial killer. The staff responds, "no, he is not a serial killer. Maybe a cereal eater?" Points for that. 

I introduce myself to the skinny jeans clad young man and his accomplice also joins us. All the necessary information is exchanged and we agree to meet in the morning. I double check that their mothers know where they are and inform them that if they are lying about being old enough to be traveling the world alone I'm going to be super angry because I'm a social worker and harboring runaways is not condoned in my line of work. 

I should note that throughout the duration of the evening, a man who resembles the villain from The Incredibles, Syndrome for those of you over age 14, has been staring at me. He was initially sitting at a table across the room while I sat on the opposite side of the room on the sofa. Later, he moved to a bordering sofa. I caught him staring at me awkwardly several times when I would glance around. After several uncomfortable minutes, out of nowhere he said "are you traveling?". No, I just like hanging out at hostels with middle aged weirdos and sharing communal bathrooms. I glance around to see if there is even the slightest possibly he is talking to someone else--and then ask if he is speaking to me since he has more stated his remark aloud to himself or to the open space in the lounge than to me. He again asks if I am traveling and I simply offer a "yes" and return to my computer screen, attempting to convey the message that I am uninterested in further conversation. He looks frustrated that I have not engaged as easy prey. Creepy villains.