It's Like This Anna, It's Like That Anna

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Due to perfectly crisp and sunny spring weather in Flagstaff while Santa Cruz suffered overcast and rain for several days in a row, I extended my Arizona days a fair bit. I had intended to spend only one night in Flag (my backpack with one change of clothes confirming this original idea), which would be just enough time to collect my stuff and turn around, but by the time I eventually left it had been 10 days. By now I had secured my spot in the house as an ever welcomed guest by making a Swedish pancake breakkie for everyone, and I had enjoyed Flagstaff to its fullest; a couple of nights out dancing, hiking in Sedona, and during my last weekend I even made an overnight hike to the bottom of the Grand Canyon.

When I needed to return to Cali, Craigslist’s rideshare once more became my salvation; I posted my interest in going to Santa Cruz or the Bay Area within a few days, and shortly thereafter a girl named Jovanna called. We arranged for me to ride with her and her boyfriend the very next day, and as luck would have it, they drove a Toyota van which conveniently fit my 5 boxes of stuff. What are the odds? I must be loaded in my karma bank.

I was placed in the back next to a cage with four domesticated rats, and Money - an excessively affectionate pitbull who practically straddled me in order to snugly place his head next to mine as soon as I sat down. For the first two hours it was something of a battle avoiding having Money’s dog elbows awkwardly shoved into various parts of my torso, but once he calmed down enough to not constantly press his face against mine, the ride was pretty comfortable. Being a caninophile I had all the patience in the world for this anxious dog despite his rather exasperating behavior, and when Jovanna told me he was a rescue dog who used to be bait for bigger fight dogs my love for the creature knew no limits. I petted, hugged and held Money for the full 14 hour drive, and despite his noxious farts and sudden spasms I even managed to fall asleep a couple of times. I was very sad to have to part with him by the time I arrived at my destination, and I realized that the one thing I truly regret about my itinerant lifestyle is that it effectively prevents me from having a dog. Our family has had one or several dogs pretty much since I was a toddler, and during the first few months of living on my own I missed the companionship so much that I became a dog sitter for a few dollars a week just to have a dog near me again.

Jovanna’s boyfriend was a blonde young man named John, and the two of them smoked pot pretty much the whole ride. John was the sole driver, and he wouldn’t let anyone else maneuver his vehicle, which obviously made me a bit uneasy about doing the 12+ hour long ride in one stretch. Miraculously, John seemed more alert than many sober drivers I’ve seen (Bob the Trucker included), and he was responsible enough to take frequent breaks to eat a bite and drink the dark brown liquid that in this country is consistently mistaken for coffee.

To call John and Jovanna bums would not be an exaggeration. Behind the driver’s seat was a cardboard sign which read “Starvin’ like Marvin”, and to make money they sold and traded gemstones and other crims crams. The main reason I was in their van was to share gas expenses, although they seemed to enjoy the company as well. When picking up their order at a Jack in the Box drive-thru, John optimistically hollered “Free curly fries!” at the poor woman behind the window, explaining to me afterwards that even though it rarely worked, they had nothing to lose by trying, a maxim I agree with and generally live by.
“Oh, my favorite!” John exclaimed when coming upon an abandoned penny on the ground, clearly an admirer of the incontestable truth in the Swedish expression “many small creeks form one big river”. But other than all of us being low on dough, I felt I had precious little in common with these two youngsters, in particular when they revealed that their favorite pastime was to sit in big groups in public places and collectively pick their noses whenever cops walked by. “You know they want to arrest you but they can’t. Picking your nose is not a crime!” they jubilated. I mustered a fake chuckle and returned to petting Money, whom I now deemed the more intelligent of the three.

But, as I was soon to learn, even dirty little hobos like John and Jovanna have something to teach me about life and the beauty that lies in simple acts of kindness. During a stop at a gas station we saw a bum who had all his belongings strapped to an old push-bike. He was dressed in a big coat to shield him from the cold of the night, holding a Styrofoam cup in one of his grubby hands while sucking on a rolled cigarette in the other. John stopped the van next to him and opened the door: “You ok, brother?”
The bum mumbled that he was fine, but John asked again. “Do you need anything? Want some tobacco?” To my surprise the bum first declined this offer, but John insisted. “Is that cup empty and dry? I can fill it up for you”, he said and brought out the can of American Spirit tobacco. The bum accepted and John filled the cup all the way up as promised before saying goodbye and driving off.

What moved me so about this was that John and Jovanna weren’t exactly flush with the greens
themselves, but when seeing someone even worse off they gladly offered whatever they had. I’m a radically irreligious person, but there are many stories in the Bible that I consider worth living by simply because of the compassion they’re based on, and this scenario reminded me of one of my favorites. A woman comes to church to pray for her sick son, and as a donation she gives everything she has, which is only a few silver coins. A rich man walks up next and donates several hundred gold coins, which is still only a fraction of his wealth. Jesus explained to his disciples that the woman gave more than the man because she gave all she had, while the rich man only offered a small portion of his possessions. When looking at it that way, these two kids appear quite magnanimous. Whether or not tobacco is the best thing to give a bum doesn’t even matter; the act of unselfishness overshadows any potential inanity.

I caught up with my friend J over a platter of ‘Nachos con Todo’ at Acapulco, and only a few minutes into the conversation she excitedly told me she’d let me meet her dog Lenny after our meal. She had picked him up at an animal shelter a few months before, and admitted that he quickly had become the light of her life. When introduced to this choug (chihuahua plus poug) I saw why; I don’t usually like small dogs, but Lenny was the type of animal you’re instantly smitten by. He was tiny, yes, he could be named Tinkerbell, yes, but he had a lot of spunk and personality, and I found him to be quite the charmer.
The following day J’s Chilean friend Osbaldo and I helped her clean up her studio apartment, and for a second Lenny was unattended and un-leashed while the door was wide open. He promptly ran out into the street, got hit by a car and died on the spot. From the inside I heard J walk out of the apartment, calling Lenny’s name, and shortly thereafter I heard her agonized shriek. I ran outside and saw Lenny in the middle of the street, lying on his back with his little legs stiffly pointing up in the sky. J was out of control, screaming and crying. She picked up the already dead dog and yelled at us to drive her to the vet ER 5 minutes away. In the car she was hysterical, wavering between screaming, crying and assuring Lenny that everything would be ok, but Lenny didn’t hear her.
The vet couldn't save the dog, and consequently J was a mess. Her boyfriend came to the reception to sit with her while she decided whether or not she wanted to say goodbye to the body. Meanwhile Osbaldo and I drove back to her house to finish the cleaning, and when we were done we decided we needed a drink. We bought some Absolut Vodka at the liquor store around the corner, went to Osbaldo's place where we drank and played music and talked for hours. I had never met Osbaldo prior to this day, but he turned out to be a really interesting character. Our topics drifted far from dead dogs or anything pertaining what happened that day, and we found ourselves talking about life in general and connections between people in particular. It was one of those nights I’ll remember for life, although I might never be able to recall exactly what was said.

Santa Cruz has a population of approximately 55,000 people. Out of these I recognize probably 100, and out of those 100 I would say I know about 35. Why is it then that my ex-boyfriend B lives in the house next to the very house where I was staying?
This twist of fate would’ve been viewed in a far more positive light if he and I had been comfortably talking to one another, but unfortunately he had decided to have nothing to do with me out of respect for his new girlfriend, a choice I accepted but lamented. As it was, our proximity was a bit uneasy for all parties involved, and although I hoped he’d see the coincidence we were faced with as some sort of comical serendipity forcing him to finally give in and meet me, he instead seemed to view it as brutal irony. Luckily, I was planning on staying with another friend in only a few days, so at least I wouldn’t have to worry about inadvertently running into him and wreaking havoc on his relationship.

Monday morning I packed up my stuff, stashing some boxes with Michelle and Kevin and putting the rest in the car. I hustled to minimize the risk of seeing either of my two least favorite neighbors, but naturally the girlfriend spotted me. For some reason her first reaction was to hide behind her car, which made me feel terrible. I decided to pretend I hadn’t seen her, since I couldn’t think of any other appropriate ways to handle the situation. To holler a cheerful ‘hello!’ was obviously not an option. But as I was getting the last box from the house my ex pulled up in his car. The girlfriend was in the house now, and while I hurriedly organized that last box, B ambled over to my car and said hi.
So there I was, face to face with my ex whom I hadn’t seen since we broke it off more than a year ago. My immediate reaction was to give him a hug, but directly afterward I felt bad, realizing that the girlfriend probably was watching us from behind a window in the house. B admitted he probably was in trouble for even talking to me, and I thanked him for considering me worth whatever anguish was to follow this transgression.
We chatted for a while, comfortable and remarkably relaxed with each other considering how long it had been since we last spoke, and before I finally drove off to my lunch with Kory I asked B to please give me a call if there was any chance of actually sitting down and catch up under a less tense circumstance.
And just like that, my ex and I are finally friends.

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Comments

[libido]

fy fan va skönt stumpan, att få bli polare med den där gamlingen igen. o tillbaks med snyggingen också. fan du har det bra du. love