The train ride to San Francisco was an experience. It was a chance to see parts of the world I’ve long wanted to but never found a way, and it was a very different kind of travel then I’ve done before, even compared to train rides in other countries.

I’m in San Francisco now, that being the terminus of the Zephyr line. More properly the terminus is Emeryville in Oakland, and I’m more properly in Oakland, although I go across the bay to San Fran a bunch. I like it here. A lot.

Eventually I should/will write a little more about the train ride (and my Michigan bike trip!) but something about being in movement precludes reflection and its associated blogging. The Ojibwa storyteller at my mom’s concert told us that the white race was created from the “healthy white foam” on the edge of the ocean waves, and maybe I was. Healthy white foam don’t blog.