Once by the Pacific

Today I hopped onto my streetcar and have it take me to its final stop: Ocean Beach. Along Judah Street, the N muni train runs straight towards the West, block after block, slowly approaching the Pacific. Somewhen, the Inner Sunset District becomes the Outer Sunset. Small beach houses, a forgotten hotel, some burrito cafés, lost hippies, and a store selling "cheap liquors". The atmosphere is calm and simple, as if modestly opening the stage for the raving waters of the North Pacific Ocean.

Once I have passed the Great Highway and conquered the wall of dunes with green and reddish cactus-plants, the sound is massive. There is no such Mare Pacificum, no peaceful sea. I walk the beach, with many others. I-Pod joggers, dogs with their stick throwing significant others, beach-romantic couples, one meditating yogi, and other uncategorized persons ("sonstige").

I don't know what it is with shores and big waters, but don't they not always trigger some inner geography? The readjustment of the one's philosophical compass: How did I get here? Where do I want to sail? - For tonight, the street car took me back to my temporary home, the Inner Sunset. Soon will I fall asleep with the cheeks still red from sun and wind.