The Sunday Traveler has learned to travel the roads, cross bridges, and to merge in getting to where she wants to be.
Not always in some foreign land, but right at home too, here in Northern California.
Across the Carquinez Strait that flows in front of my eyes every day, is the little town of Port Costa. The town sits directly across the water from my place; I have stared across at it for over a year now since moving here. A tiny place that sits on a hillside and winds down to the Strait with what seem to be tiny structures; a few houses, barns; white washed walls and reddish-brown tiled roofs. Not many structures, just enough to have made me wonder what goes on there, what it’s like.
We crossed the Carquinez Bridge, and drove down a little street through town to the tracks on the edge of the water. The tracks that carry the trains I see and hear at all hours of the day and night from my place. My first glimpse of the sights and sounds from the opposite shore, looking across the water as if looking in to a mirror that has been turned to see my reflection somehow on the other side.
Next week The Sunday Traveler will show you a little bit of the town of Port Costa.