Curiosity Roving : V.6 : California Dreaming
Curiosity Roving
The Grand Adventures of Rose Goossen
V.6 : California Dreaming
in which our hero goes for the gold
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Greetings and Salutations!
And welcome to the sixth volume of Curiosity Roving. I thank you kindly for your attention. This newsletter is my monthly offering of humble content for the world at large, and it numbers among my favourite things in life. For new subscribers, a hearty welcome! Thank you for joining me on this wild goose chase. May it bring you joy.
I'm writing to you today from Los Angeles. I am further south than I have ever previously been on the American continents, and it is satisfying. Since my last letter, I have been living in a delicious golden haze that is best described as a California dream. This is expensive and unsustainable, but certainly temporary, and therefore, I have been inclined to indulge with maximum enthusiasm in decadent salads, bakery treats, splendid parties, and all manner of conveniences.
happy danceNotable events of this last era include: a homesick haircut in a dingy Chinatown alleyway, attendance at Tourettes Without Regrets and Hardly Strictly Bluegrass, happy reunions with people of the past and fresh encounters with new friends, my first saunter through a dark alleyway with my taser in my good hand, an evening introduction to Gyrotonics in the Odd Fellows Hall, a round of go-go pirate with Fleetmac Wood, a three-day trip down a beautiful coastal highway, the acquisition of a leather hat, the novel experience of cosmic unity, and many, many days and nights of dreaming on the dance floor.
Volume Six is light on geography, heavy on lifestyle. I'm composing a heartfelt love letter to a certain special city, and I might let you read it in V.7, but such delicate things take time, so, for now, I will introduce you to two of my unorthodox hobbies, both of which are essential practices in my current way of being and serve to constantly reaffirm my faith in humanity.
we should be friendsHitchhiking is a quintessentially American and democratic phenomenon, the first instances of which were documented in the early 20th century. The practice consists of soliciting free rides from strangers by standing at the side of the road with an extended thumb. It has been common in North America for the last century among migrant workers, soldiers, adventurers, children, misfits, wayfarers, wanderers, and transients. The society of the hitchhiker is more reputable than that of the railroad tramp, and was endowed with a special glaze of poetry by the Beat Generation of the 1950s.
simply irresistibleI am an accomplished hitchhiker, and a purist. I do not make signs, I do not linger at gas stations or truck stops, I do not photograph licence plates or send safety update texts upon entering a new vehicle. I like to be at the side of the road, and to allow people to voluntarily stop for me. I exercise equal parts trust and savvy, and use the practice to facilitate my experience of a true present. I rarely wait longer than twenty minutes for a ride, but even so, I have spent innumerable cumulative hours on the gravel shoulder with my thumb out, tipping my hat to drivers as they communicate through gesture the various reasons why they cannot or will not pick me up, tempting fate and, if the wait proves truly interminable, perhaps performing circus tricks. I find it to be a charming pastime.
a happy detourHitchhiking brings me into contact with people with whom I would never otherwise have the opportunity to interact. In 1775, Samuel Johnson wrote that the true state of every nation is the state of common life, and hitching is an unparalleled opportunity to make a direct survey of the state of the world. The exercise transcends social strata; I can be in the eighteen-wheeler one day, and the Mercedes the next. Most of the people who pick me up do so because they fancy some company, and there is an instant intimacy that is permitted by the peculiarity of the encounter and the close, shared, safe space of a vehicle. In the role of temporary passenger, I gently receive incredible stories and dark secrets. I am taken on spontaneous adventures and into homes. And though the timid may tout the risks of a woman alone, I have crossed three continents by the power of my own dainty thumb, and I have never found myself in critical peril.
many a winding turn
I was indoctrinated into the cult of the hitchhiker by literature, while young, impressionable, and stuck in a small town. For those who may be interested in exploring this unique vein of crazy wisdom, I recommend Douglas Adams, Jack Kerouac, and Tom Robbins, particularly Even Cowgirls Get The Blues. I've also included an academic paper on the history of hitchhiking in today's Appendix.
My second unconventional pastime is the surfing of couches, also known as Couchsurfing, with a capital letter, because it is a trademarked term. Couchsurfing is a social network that allows travellers to connect with local people and make use of whatever extra space they have available. It is the brainchild of Casey Fenton, a computer programmer from New Hampshire. In 1999, at the age of 21, he hacked into the database of the University of Iceland and randomly emailed 1500 students with a request to stay in their homes while visiting their country. He received about a hundred replies, and enjoyed free lodging with a local musician during his trip to Iceland. The company was formed as a non-profit organization in 2003, developed by volunteers, and launched in 2004.
hardly strictly couchesThese days, Casey Fenton is a "Silicon Valley veteran" and Couchsurfing is a social app like many others, which makes use of location services to bring people who are in close geographical proximity into pleasant social contact. When I first started using the network in 2009, it was rather different. Smartphone culture had not yet taken over the world. Location services were not really existent. Couchsurfing was a social network, like Facebook, but much smaller and more deliberate. I used it heavily from 2009 until 2012, and everyone I met during that time was a wonderful weirdo.
Of course, things change. In 2011, the company made the switch from non-profit to for-profit. The functions of the website and the privacy policies went through waves of revision, and eventually the whole shebang shifted to app-based services. I had a few unsavoury experiences, checked out for about six years, and only recently reopened my account, my home, my heart, and my mind. I'm glad I did.
plenty of fun in this worldLike hitchhiking, Couchsurfing is an exercise in mutual trust. We introduce ourselves through profiles and photos, and then we make offers, requests, and agreements. Neither host nor surfer can ever be certain that the other is quite as they appear to be. Still, we trust, and incredible things become possible when we do.
Both of these practices have a significant practical function that supports my current way of life. In the vernacular of an entrepreneur, they keep my overhead manageable. However, the real value of these maverick diversions is not financial. It is human. I want to believe in basic goodness, and sometimes the simplest way to do that is to take myself way out on a limb, and, by the power of gravity, check if the trampoline is still there. So far, the world is a bouncy place, and ultimately, all of these small acts of human-scale trust add up to good practice for the larger, scarier goal of trusting that my little life and the trajectory of our species here on Planet Earth might be basically okay.
glory boundOur sauce du jour is in the usual place. The law of equals and opposites counsels that there can be no joy without pain, no light without dark, no courage without fear, and no innocence without experience. People keep telling me that I'm living the dream, and I keep telling them that it's "tricky". Today, I shine a light into eight dark corners of what I mean when I say that. PG-13.
I will leave you today with a friendly reminder, courtesy of palliative nurse Bronnie Ware. These are the five most common regrets of people who are faced with the prospect of imminent death:
1) I wish I'd had the courage to live a life true to myself.
2) I wish I hadn't worked so hard.
3) I wish I had kept in touch with my friends.
4) I wish I had had the courage to express my feelings.
4) I wish I had had the courage to express my feelings.
5) I wish I had allowed myself to be happier.
Reader, seize the day. Write that love note, make that call, give that gift, eat that pastry, and then eat another one for me. Have a second cup of coffee, too. Say "mmmmm". Learn that language, buy that ticket, call in sick. Hell, call in done. Chase that wild goose. Take your shirt off. Get yourself a four-dollar bottle of Chardonnay and revel in Dionysian splendour. And, when you do, please, tell me all about it.
Until next time, stay curious. -- Rose
Appendix : Related Materials
A short history of hitchhiking by John T. Schlebecker, published in 1958:
A photo gallery of more than 500 Couchsurfers that have been hosted by the generous people of the Tiny Big House in Oakland, California:
The actual Couchsurfing website, for those who have a spare room or need one:
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