Correia

I hate Arcata.

It's a nearly-Utopian society nestled between some of the tallest trees on the planet and the watery edge of the world, the Pacific Ocean. People smile at you as you pass on bicycles on the road, brightly-painted hippie vans can be seen parked near curbs throughout town, people with huge backpacks and foot-long dreadlocks can be found saying their 'thank yous' and farewells at the Plaza to heavily pierced-and-tattooed lesbian couples who picked them off from whichever highway they hitched from, and I haven't seen a McDonald's or Walmart for days.

I really hate Arcata.  That's why part of me wants to move here for college.

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Yesterday, as I was pedalling past the Co-op, I heard an older woman behind me squeal, "Oh, what sweet little prayer flags!" from her bike.

She was referring to the string of hand-stamped, recycled fabric scraps I had tied to the back of my panniers.  I made about 20 of them before I left home, knowing very well that I was going to receive many favors from strangers, and would want to give them something meaningful in return.

The woman, Correia, is a married mother of three girls, a former Menonite, a long-time Arcata resident, and a newly-established bicycle-commuter.  Having recently lost 50 pounds since choosing to ride instead of drive, Correia was more than a little enthusiastic about her new wheels, and was even more interested in mine.

Within five minutes of having met me, this near-stranger was inviting me to dinner, offering a place to stay, and asking if she could pay me to babysit her youngest children.

I really, really hate Arcata.

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I assured her that if she was serious, I would love to talk bike touring, answer her travel questions as best I could, and eat Potato Broccoli Cheddar Soup.

By the end of the evening, we had made plans to go on a bike ride and picnic at the Arcata Marsh, and were already discussing my coming to stay for the Kinetic Sculpture Race (a human-powered race of huge, ingenius, psychodelic  contraptions in the design of animals, eggplants, etc. that must be able to move over land and water) in May.

Just before I left for the night, I gave them a prayer flag for their home.  In Nepal, these flags represent compassion and peace, and fly from homes and rocks in the mountains.  I know that this is a home that represents those ideals, too.

You're killing me, Arcata.  It's hard to feel so blessed.