‘Bushrod Park, or Routes and Rhythms #2’, by Hannah

‘From Brockwell to Berkeley’ is an ongoing series of snapshots from life on opposite sides of the Atlantic. It’s written by two close friends: Hannah (who moved from London to California in August 2020 to study overseas) and Jaleh (who remains in London).

When the sun begins to set, and classes are all wrapped up for the day, I head immediately out to the park. If I get there at 5, there is a full half-hour light show waiting for me — the sky every colour from azure to lilac; the disc of the sun from gold to bronze. The houses in the hills catch the light; they wink and glow.

This is often exactly the time that my classes finish. If not, it’s exactly the time that I want a break anyway. A little ritual: to watch the sun drop, framed by the SF skyline, into the pacific. To let the day go; to breathe. When I get home (home?!) I make tea. As Ja said to me over Christmas: making tea is a great transitional activity, slowing the time between one thing and the next.

In the mornings, after breakfast, and before I start my day: I go for walks, I always end up in the park. Usually there is promise in the air — an edge of cold, dew on the grass, sparkling light. Sometimes there are crazy fantastic clouds; sometimes there is mist. Morning and early evening, there are always people with dogs.

There is a basketball square, and tennis courts. People are always playing tennis. On the basketball ground, people rollerblade or dance. Sometimes people practise martial arts or yoga. Today, I found a variant of hopscotch there, drawn out in chalk. People play football, baseball, frisbee; people play music.

The park has rhythms, and it has helped me find mine; the rhythms and routines of living here. I feel not quite as new to this life as I was — part of why (I think) it has taken me so long to get this post written. I feel less exuberant, more reflective; as if I can take more time over things. I am incredibly busy with classes, but I don’t feel it all in such a fast-paced rush as I did. I have a foundation to work with; to build on.

The time difference is still strange, and it is strangest right around sunset time. The end of the day is the nicest time for a phone call, and the end of my day is too late for phone calls with home. If I feel my distance, on any given day, it is always in this time — the space between full day and full night; between work and evening fun.

Once, on my way to meet a friend for dinner in Waterloo, I took a picture of the London Eye at sunset time. The sun was right in the centre of the eye; my camera could barely approximate the stream of its light. What song more perfect, than Waterloo Sunset, to soundtrack this moment; this memory? Both sound and visual play, here, on my mind; at this distance — whenever I think or speak of sunsets in Bushrod.

Read the rest of the posts in ‘From Brockwell to Berkeley’ .

Originally published at http://jalehbrazell.wordpress.com on February 11, 2021.