Tanka challenge 11/15/08

"Hush," murmur the waves.
"Hush your incessant babble,
You foolish mortals.
Like the tracks of wading birds,
Your lives are impermanent."

EDIT: 
Mini-rant.

Brevity of form
Does not mean that a poem
Should not make good sense. (LOOK! Haiku with sentence structure!)

I blame generations of misinformed English literature teachers exposed to stilted translations of Japanese poems for spreading the insidious lie that haiku should read like complete and utter nonsense.  Clearly a "She Who Sucks Least" editorial on the fact is needed - but will have to wait until my sister leaves town.

Adventures of a tour guide, day 2

After a bit of dithering over what to do today, I decided we would drive up Route 1 and explore a bit. I've been living in Northern California since 2002 and thanks to the Society For Creative Absorption-Of-Spare-Time, there are a great many things I have not yet seen and done and would like to do.

Again, we had unseasonably warm and gorgeous weather. Our first stop, after a winding drive through the hills from Larkspur, was Stinson Beach. We went out onto the sand, rolled up our jeans and went for a walk. The tide was on its way in and bloody freezing, but other than that, it was gorgeous. There was some sort of picnic going on in the parking lot, but the beach itself was surprisingly uncrowded: a handful of surfers, a few families with kids, a guy with two very shaggy, very wet German Shepherds.

From there we proceeded north, then diverted off of 1 to the Point Reyes National Seashore. The National Park Service website says it's only 30 miles from San Francisco, but once you get off Route 1 onto Sir Francis Drake Boulevard (so named for the fact that Sir F landed here in 1579), you wind through endless miles of what I think of as California moorland, some of it divided into ranching parcels dating to the mid 19th century, until you roll up a steep hill to a tiny parking lot. From there, you climb on foot another 1/2 mile to the terrace overlooking the Point Reyes lighthouse. It is possible to climb DOWN to the lighthouse, but we decided not to.  The view was spectacular - to our north, the surf seemed to be breaking on the beach in slow motion; directly below, the water was green and white as it broke on the rocks.

We wound our way back down off the point and back to 1 to stop for lunch in Point Reyes Station. Ladies and gentlemen, we have found a DINER. The Pinecone, to be exact. Old school setting with plates hanging on one wall, aqua paint and oxblood vinyl cushions on the booths and counter stools. Elaine was very pleased with her Carribean chicken salad and I had a burger made of local beef with bleu cheese on top that was perfectly cooked and juicy without being greasy, accompanied by the BEST French Fries on Planet Earth, I shit thee not, O My Readers. When we paid the check, I said so to the owner. She was happy to reveal her secret - they cut their own fries fresh and deep fry in rice oil. (Which had me wondering how sweet potato fries in rice oil would be...)

We strolled the main drag and did a little browsing in some of the shops, then headed back down toward the East Bay. I decided that Elaine really needed to have ice cream, so we went over to Fenton's Creamery on Piedmont Avenue in Oakland.  As usual the place was a madhouse. We sat at the counter, received profuse apologies from the floor manager as soon as he realized nobody had taken our order and collared someone to do so right away. We did the petite sundae sizes, which were just perfect in terms of a Life-Is-Uncertain-Eat-Dessert-First snack between lunch and a late dinner. (James, if you're reading this, we were toasting you with hot fudge sundaes....)

Dinner was down the street at Ching Hua. I had their duck, which was good, but not as good as Da Lian. Elaine had some sort of Szechuan eggplant thing which, well, it had eggplant in it so I wasn't crazy about it on general principle. The shrimp fried rice was good and generously salted with shrimp.