Flew to San Francisco yesterday. My seat mates on the flight were a Mexican woman, now living in McAllen, Texas,  and a Chinese woman. We shared snacks and stories. The Mexican woman, in the middle seat, watched in-flight television and laughed uproariously- I smiled at her laughter, wishing my funny bone were so easily tickled. She was on her way to Hawaii with her 2 children and seemed just delighted with life. She showed me a picture of her American husband, her 2nd, she said, on her iPhone and kissed it. The Chinese woman much more reserved, and I somewhere in between. We made quite a crew.

The land, as I looked out the plane window, was forbidding. We must’ve been over Texas, Arizona, Nevada. No water anywhere, and I wondered at the towns here and there, with their patches of green, where did their water come from? Even the places where water should have been there was none. Dry stream beds and lakes all the way across until we got into California.

Wandered about a little last night and found dinner in a mexican place nearby. Lots of homeless and urine smell on the streets. Pigeons. There’s a sign on the balcony door in my room that says if I leave it open pigeons might come into my room!

This morning I look out my window in the hotel on the square below. There are a few homeless folks sleeping under trees, against the walls. The dawn is not quite visible yet. There are people in the plaza below setting up tents and chairs for an event.

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