8 Bridges in San Diego

I have crossed a thousand bridges
In my search for something real
There were great suspension bridges
Made like spider webs of steel
There were tiny wooden trestles

I just love Sergio Mendes and Brasilia 88. Travessia: it must be the Brazilian term for bridges. The soothing voice of a woman singing about crossing a thousand bridges brings me back to my favorite bridge: Brooklyn Bridge. I don't remember much of the  bridges I have crossed before I came to America but I liked the song long before I came to America. When I was in first year of high school, I sang "Bridge Over Troubled Water" in front of my class. The memory of Rogelio Sanchez making fun of my singing days after the singing has become a traumatic experience. I knew then that I could not sing out loud.

There's a bridge to tomorrow
There's a bridge to the past

The meetup hike was led by Robert Deveraux, a professional photographer. The shot that he took of the whole group at the Harbor Drive Pedestrian Bridge was exquisite.

 Except for Kay and Larry Berg, I was hiking with the rest of the 16 hikers for the first time, including Robert. Sharon LaDuke, a retired lawyer originally from Michigan kept me entertained whenever she said something. She seemed calm during our exchanges.








I found her too cute, literally and laterally.

I am glad Robert Deveraux didn't dwell on introductions. But some people couldn't help their curiosities  even if the answers are obvious.

"Where are you from?" Laura, the co-organizer asked me.

I told her I am from the Philippines and realized she meant to ask where I live.

I have been friends with Kay for a while and I have always assumed she is born local. I learned she was born in Iran. I also learned that Honduras where two female hikers were from originally is part of Central America.

The first bridge was Spruce Street Bridge. I wondered aloud if the other end of the bridge is still Hillcrest. There's a sign at the foot of the bridge at the Front Street side that the area is being monitored 24 hours  for criminal activity. I wondered whether the culprits are the ones  who don't like gays marrying each other.

The Kiki Sushi sign reminds me of Caesar, a former co-worker in Encinitas who lives in the area.
He always referred the restaurant as Kiki Sushi Mo.

I handed Kay the Nikon Digital and she snapped a picture of me walking backwards at the Vermont Street Bridge.  At the railing is the fortune cookie quote compliments of the Peking Noodle Company.

Happiness and health are coming your way!

Oh yeah?

Ah, Dr. Seuss!

"You have brains in your head,
You have feet in your shoes
You can steer yourself any direction you choose
You're on your own
And you know what you know
and you are the guy who'll decide where to go."

Ah, green eggs and ham!

"Are you a Native American?" Tim asked me. I was wearing a  medicine pouch I got from South Dakota  to work and Tim, a pre-med student, was curious.

"I wish I was!"

Ever since Tony Nguyen wrote my last name as Navajo, I have always felt that I was a Navajo in a previous life.

Audre Lorde was poet, writer, activist and environmentalist  of African American ethnicity.  The inscription at the Vermont Street Bridge is about poetry.

"Poetry is not only a dream and vision; it is the skeleton  architecture of our lives. It lays the foundation of a future of change, a bridge across our fears of what has never been before."

I like her more as a writer:
"I am going to write fire until it comes out of my ears, my eyes, my noseholes --everywhere. Until it's every breath I breathe I am going to go out like a fucking meteor!"

Some bridges did not count. After stopping by the rose garden at Balboa park, I couldn't wait to move on to the next bridge. The walkway that Kay, Larry and Laura were crossing looked like one of the bridges that did not count.

The Harbor Drive Pedestrian Bridge which has just been completed in March 2011 and located in the heart of San Diego is for me the most impressive in the area. Pedestrians crossing the bridge from the Gaslamp Quarter to the Convention Center can have a closer look at the Coronado Bridge.

The Coronado Bridge is restricted to pedestrians because of the high rate of jumpers who have attempted to end it all at the bridge.  Some failed while others succeeded.

Tom Bracknell was devouring the ripened fruit of a white flowering Indian Hawthorn. I tried one and find that the fruit is something I would dip into salt. Too tart, too sour. We were going back to tree named streets just a block away from Front Street where we left our cars, or in my case, carpool.
Someone asked me how many bridges we have crossed so far.

I said  nine.

The seventh bridge didn't announce itself as a bridge.

The northern portion of the San Diego skyline was enhanced by treetops. I did not see any redwood, spruce or walnut  trees. Palm Street revealed the structural support of the classic looking First Avenue Bridge. Some eucalyptus trees stood tall over  the bridge.

The last but not the least bridge is the Quince Street  Bridge by Banker Hill. The bridge was some tiny wooden trestle built in 1905. There's the bridge to the past. Robert Deveraux must have been trying to save the best for last.