Roots and Redwoods

You know, it is so much easier to blog in your head. I mean, the whole time I was away in California I blogged in my head. I'd be looking at Amish quilts or 17th century Dutch paintings I had a running blog dialog going on in my head.Alas and alack, th ey did not make it onto the computer but they are still in my head none the less.

San Francisco, for those who've never been, is a lovely city in comparison to a lot out there. The streets are bigger, it's cleaner, the transportation system can't be beat period. There is less traffic (thanks to the transportation systems one would think). Every place I ate was amazing, including an artichoke and onion soup at the De Young museum. It even beat Paris as far as meals go. The people are eclectic to say the least, and the ethnic neighborhoods actually felt like, well,neighborhoods. And, DAMN,those redwood trees are tall!

Yet I came away with a feeling of disconnect that I haven't ever felt in any other city before. It lacked warmth- I don't mean physically as it was warm whilst I was there. It was something else that I can't quite put my finger on. Lack of 18th century history? Maybe, though the town of Sonoma had enough history to please even me. Lack of passion? No, I saw passion at the Fat Chance studio.
Lack of....lack of what? I'm thinking it was lack of roots. My roots are here with my family, my friends, my co-workers, my troupe. I don't think I really appreciated my roots, my connectedness to others in my life until this trip. I've come back happy to be here, happy I went, happy to go again knowing that my roots are here when I get home.

More later on the de Young.....