You can therefore imagine that I was not best pleased, Sunday morning, at the prospect of waking up at 7am after going to bed around 1:30 that same morning; not to mention the mean thin mattress I was sleeping on that made a shifty crunkly noise when weight was put on it, suspiciously similar to the sound of a mattress protected against kids wetting the bed. My goal was worth getting up for though – the island of Alcatraz awaited and I was set to catch the first ferry over there. I thought for some horrible moments that I wouldn't actually make it since the #10 bus, driven by a slouching mass of a man who looked like he would have to roll many parts of him up before getting up himself, lumbered slowly along the streets; so slow in fact that we barely overtook a couple walking in the same direction.
Waiting in line to get on the ferry I was struck by the short-sightedness of the tour operators. Instead of creating a wonderful opportunity to simulate what it may have been like for prisoners sent to this island jail, they instead slowed everyone down by taking a photo of each person or group in front of a vinyl backdrop of Alcatraz (the island, not the prison). Yours to buy for only $22! Bear in mind that while on the boat you have ample opportunity to take a photo in front of the real thing.
The fe
rry ride offered gorgeous views of the city, its buildings shrouded in mist as the sun started shining. It was a gorgeous day, and I was all set for a prison visit. Alcatraz has a whole lot of history – it was a military fort until money was tight and it became a prison (until money got tight then it became a national park)... who knows what might happen next?! There's a steep incline to the prison which sits imposingly on top of the rock. Walking amid ruined and abandoned buildings, the place felt desolate, much like I would imagine prison would feel. There's a great audio tour of the prison included in the cost of admission, and it is well worth it. With the headset on you can almost forget all the other tourists stopping at the same places and looking up at the same time as you.
Although it was warm outside, inside the prison was a completely different matter. This place was cold – and full of so many stories, dreams, deaths and hopes for something else. The cells were really quite small and there were, of course, no TVs, though prisoners did have access to 2 radio stations. Interestingly enough, the meals served had to not only be nutritious, but well-presented too – wonder if that is still a rule these days? Perhaps the most poignant thing about Alcatraz was the proximity to the outside world. San Francisco is a 10-minute boat ride away and is clearly visible and often audible, depending on the direction of the wind. Imagine being locked up on a rock, only allowed out of your cell for a certain amount of time each day, and outside the prison building for a short span of time in that day, but all the time you know that your old life is just beyond your reach. Must have been heart-breaking and infuriating, maddening... so maddening that people would scheme and plot and try (jury is still out as to whether any succeeded) to escape.
I did almost get stuck on Alcatraz when I tried to take the 'Agave Trail' back to the dock but instead ended up on the other side of the prison, surrounded by the stench of bird pooh (the island is now a bird sanctuary – learn from my experience and look before you kneel) and the only way out being up some steep, crumbling concrete steps to the exercise yard. I eventually found my way to the boat and joyfully set sail in the sunshine for San Francisco, wondering how it must have felt for prisoners who got off the Rock to their freedom.
The rest of my time in the city was spend riding the cable cars - awesome! - and doing mundane chores like posting things, trying to get back the music lost on my iPod, and attempting (unsuccessfully) to finish my letter of intent for Concordia. As I prepared for my departure to Fiji (via L.A.), I got to thinking about how, although I wasn't too keen on San Francisco to begin with, which I think was due in large part to the mingy hostel I stayed in in the ghetto my first two nights, I had now, like Vancouver and Seattle before, got used to the city somewhat and was slightly nervous about the next move. Traveling is fun, of course, but it is also stressful. After a few days you have to get used to a new place, new bus systems, new people, new beds. The place you would think you should go to get photocopies is not the place where you can actually get them... But my next stop is Fiji, how could I be nervous?
Sitting in the departure lounge (this is too kind a word for what this actually is, I think they are in the middle of refurbishing it, or if not they should be), I can't believe I am on the move again and I can barely believe where I am going. Although I thought out the trajectory of my whole trip about 5-6 months ago, I have not done extensive research on any of the places I am going and in fact only booked my Fiji accommodation a week ago. I am stoked...I am looking at all the other people here and trying to figure out who is Fijian, who is on vacation, who is backpacking... I have no clue how long the flight is, I only know it's currently 21:02 on December 01 and I arrive at 05:45 December 3rd. I wonder how it will feel to cross the dateline...will I even notice? Will time be all screwy for the next while, or will the relaxation (and partying?) of Fiji mean I take to it like a duck to water? Only a few hours until I find out!
This will of course be posted once I actually have access to the intetron, which may not be for a week!
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