Farm 0615

Saturday June 15

I woke up unhurriedly on Saturday, and I found a response from a Craigslist ad I’d responded to, about a Geo Metro I bid $1200 for. After emailing for a while, I realized we were both excited about getting the transaction completed, so I decided I had to go get cash at an ATM somewhere, and that I needed a car to do so. It was around 10-11AM when I went to Josh’s cabin. The dog on the front, Francisco, barked at me even from afar, to the sound of which Josh and Tyler came out, shushed him, and introduced themselves. Tall and blond, long hair, and trimmed beard, Josh seemed pretty cool. Tyler was his heavier cousin, and had a neat mohawk on his head, and several tattoos all over. After introductions, they mentioned they were going to Santa Fe, and I latched onto the topic to say that I’d like a ride. They said they’d leave in about half an hour, so I went back to my cabin, told the guy (who was in Santa Fe) that I’d be going down there anyway, we got both our phone numbers, I packed up a few basics and my blankets in case I’d need to spend the night, and then Tyler came up to my door and we drove off.

On the way, I conversed a little with the WWOOF’ers I’d heard so much about. Both of them were very open and conversational, though I didn’t quite warm up to them as quickly as I would’ve liked. They both seemed open, tolerant, peaceful, and energetic, Josh the more so, and seemed very welcoming, both to his car and to the farm, when he talked. Once in Santa Fe, we stopped at an ATM, and I was able to get $800 from it. Then I called the car guy, Tom, and we said we’d meet outside of Trader Joe’s. As the place was only on the other side of the street, J&T dropped me off in the parking lot, and I went off to meet Tom. A minute later on the phone:

• Hey Tom. I’m in the Trader Joe’s parking lot, but I can’t quite find you. Where are you?
• Hi, go to the left of Trader Joe’s.
• OK. I can’t quite see you - I’m wearing blue jeans and a gray shirt.
• I’m wearing a purple shirt and I’m standing on my car.
• Standing on your car! That’s unusual. I can’t quite see you yet, though.
• I see you. Just turn to your left, a little more, yeah, that’s right! Here I am!

And there he was - a tall, thin, purple-shirted man in shorts standing over his small white car. After the seconds it took me to walk to him:

• Hey Tom!
• Oh! Nice smile there!

And there it was - the white Geo Metro, with a bike inside. “Is the bike included?”, I joked. “Ohhhh, not unless you want to triple the price! The frame itself was $1700!”. As it turns out, he designed his own foldable bike. I was impressed by that. He went on to introduce me to the car - the engine, the trunk, the spare tires, the upholstery, the quirk of it doing a strange pitch in fifth gear... things like that. I gave it a test drive, and it felt great. I had not driven a manual car since Guatemala, and mixing the concepts of Guatemala and of driving in the USA gave me a sense of freedom mixed with familiarity. A very nice feeling.

We went to another ATM, and I managed to get $120 more, but no more. With $971 in my wallet, I didn’t have enough to pay the $1200 for the car, so we decided I’d stay at a hostel overnight, and I’d retrieve the remainder of the cash the next morning. So we checked in, although the clerk first looked at me with mistrust, thinking that I might be some homeless guy from Santa Fe. When I told him about WWOOF’ing, he grudgingly agreed to host me, charged me $18 plus $10 deposit, and introduced me to my room. The stay included free expired foods, which was nice.

After a few minutes, Tom and I drove off to have lunch somewhere. We thought of eating Thai, but both Thai places I found on GMaps were closed. So we went to an egyptian restaurant instead, called Nile Café, where he knew the owners. He gave a Tarot reading to the 16-year old owner’s daughter, which I observed all the way through. Two central cards representing objective and something else, then 12 around it covering the 12 houses from usual astrology. Then 2 more representing her personality and her potential, I believe, and that was it. A few subjective and psychological discussions later, it was over. It was interesting. I could see her interest in the reading wax and wane, and Tom mold his words to adjust to her interests and where she wanted the reading to go towards. A few things in the reading made sense. Her personality, for example, I thought, was indeed excited but subdued by peer pressure. Then she read to us a few of the dreams she wrote in her dream journal. I especially remember one where she was born from the earth, with black wings, and she was angry because her wings were black, but in the end she used them to nurture and embrace someone, and she felt in peace. And one where she ran across a forest, in a white dress and leather belt (like an elvish lady, I imagine), and the seasons of the forest changed as she ran.

We then had lunch/dinner at the restaurant. Marianne (the 16-year old) either messed up or brought the item that Tom did not mean to order, but they replaced his veggie sandwich (with feta cheese) with a veggie burger (without it). Then Tom and I talked. The topics were diverse. Economy, the real way that money works, at least in the USA, privacy in the Internet, getting Linux into his Macbook Air, Tor, tablet devices sufficient for him (to which I suggested the Note 8), the skills he has acquired throughout his years as a nomad (oh yeah, he retired at 17, and he’s been a nomad ever since. He’s 55 now). He mentioned handyman skills, tarot reading, hand reading, astrology, Tai Chi, Qi Gong, adobe building, and others. And other such topics. I tried to understand his vision of life as a whole - 55 but living on, day by day, fairly uncertain of what even the near future holds. Frequent changes and transitions, almost always. I wondered how that would feel like.

He then dropped me off at the hostel, and I ate there for a while. Then I walked out towards South Capital Station (Railrunner), and hung out for a while. The sky was beautiful. An enormous cloud with a gray front traversed the sky, like a mighty boundless ship, or like a Greek goddess slowly pulling the blanket of night onto the world. The changes of colors (blues and grays) were also marvellous. A baby blue spot here, deep sea blue there, and intricate gradients of grays all in between, is a lovely show indeed.

On the way back, the wind blew strong and smooth, and I basked in the Wind of Freedom. Indeed. It felt thus, and I did thus. I jumped, I danced, over grass and sidewalk, on the way back to the hostel. I enjoyed the time of dusk in Santa Fe on the high-car, low-pedestrian Cerrillos street, very much.

Inspired again, I entered a gas station shop and sparked a conversation with the clerk. After browsing with quick and dramatic attention, and comparing an extendable fly-swatter with a Jedi fly-swatter, I bought a $0.99 eraser, and walked out. Once outside, a girl called me, and asked me if she could use my phone. I dialed her number, and she talked. She was looking for a place to stay, and her friend had not called her yet. I suggested the hostel, but she said “Oh, yeah, I know about the hostel. I’m not staying there”. And I wondered why. Eventually, she was told to walk about 20 minutes to where her friend was, so she said bye and left.

So then I walked back to my hostel, and on the way I danced. Half a block before arriving, I heard a voice behind me:

• “It’s dusty, isn’t it?”

Startled, I quickly looked back. It was a guy with an unsleeved blue shirt, stringed backpack, shorts, and sandals.

• “It’s the wind that I’m feeling!”
• “Oh yeah. It’s unusual for this time of year”
• “Really? I’m not from around here, so I wouldn’t know”
• “So what brings you to walk on Cerrillos road at 9PM?”
• “Oh, I’m just walking back to my hostel. What are you doing?”
• “I’m just coming back from a festival, in the park”
• “From the skate park?”
• “Well, around there”
• “Oh right, the gay pride parade! I heard that was going on today!”
• “I brought a little colored thing from the festival, do you want it?”
• “No thanks”
• “Do you have any of the good things? You know, some drugs?”
• “Umm, no”
• “A smoke?”
• “Nope. The closest I could come to offering you is coffee, at the hostel”
• “Ummmm.... yeah, coffee sounds good”
• “All right then, let’s go”
• “You are a very attractive man”
• “Ehh, thank you. I’m NOT gay, though”
• “Oh ok”
• “I imagine you get that a lot. I mean, you are the minority”
• “Well, it happens. You know, I put out my calling card, that’s it”
• “Right”

I skipped the lobby and entered the entrance to the kitchen, thinking it would be more direct and less awkward, as I would feel strange if the hostel guy were to think I was a homosexual. So he sat on a stool in the kitchen, and I offered to bring us two cups of coffee. I was interested in asking him about homosexuality, as I had never talked about it openly with a homosexual person. He mentioned he was a republican and the grandson of a senator, and I was curious to know more about it.

I found two cups and poured out what I thought was coffee. It was hot water, and Rick, the current hostel clerk, rushed in to tell me that the coffee was for the morning. I said “OK, is there any tea?” And as he looked for some, he went into the kitchen, and asked the sandaled guy what he was doing there. I told him he was with me, but after a slight deliberation, Rick decided he disapproved very much of him being there, and he told him to leave. So he did, I said bye to him from the doorway, and went back inside. Once inside, Rick said that he was most likely a homeless guy, and that while they didn’t hate them, they were not allowed in the hostel. I told him I really thought he was not a homeless guy, but he thought otherwise, and I went back to my room.

After a few minutes in my room, I decided I didn’t want to go to sleep quite yet, so I walked out at about 11PM. Rick saw me coming out and asked “you heading out?” “Yup”, I said. I didn’t go far. The moon looked about halfway lit, and it looked beautiful as it illuminated the gray nebulous travelers around it, so I found a fence to lean on, and watched it for about 15 windy, beautiful, slightly-chilly minutes.

I went back to get the blanket I had packed to cover me while I continued to look at the moon. I found Rick on my way out, again, and then another dialogue:

• “I see you’re taking a blanket to a homeless guy now”
• “Oh no! No no no no no... listen, this is MY blanket, I bought it in Austin, TX in 2008, and I’m just taking it with me because it’s a little cold out”
• “Oh really? So what are you off to do now?”
• “I’m going to see the moon! It’s beautiful!”
• “The moon”
• “Aha!”
• “Why don’t you just go to your comfortable room and sleep? You paid for it, it’s right there”
• “Yes, but then I don’t get to see the moon. Ok ok look... can I sit here on this chair to see the moon?”
• “Of course you can, I mean, it’s not illegal”
• “Thanks. So I’m just going to stay here”
• “Well, I’m going off to sleep”
• “Ok”

And that was it. I watched the moon and a few stars, mixed in with a couple of orange fluorescents from the hostel, for about 15 minutes, then I went back to my room and slept.