Castro

The sun rises over Castro. On a door mat a man sleeps under a blanket, only a tuff of dirty hair sticks out as well as a pair of downtrodden boots. Paper plates scattered on the ground as well as various rubbish, pigeons are looking for crumbs on the sidewalk.
The indian summer has started and it should last two months say the locals. The sun shines, the sky is bright blue, a seaside sky where the light is bright. No mountains to stop the sight, we can see far away. The wind cleans the air, the streets are wide and the houses small, the world seems to be open to you. The day starts.
A rainbow flag waves over Harvey Milk Plaza as well as anywhere in Castro. A man with a dog leather muzzle on his face
is walking by with his master, further away another one wears a T-shirt saying "If you don't like oral sex, close your mouth"
The wear of the kilt is commonplace, tight pants, in black leather, boots, piercing. Piercing and tatoos of all kind adorn bodies.
Couples kiss, and touch in all freedom. All the trades on Castro are gay. The neighborhood is friendly and safe. The architecture magnificent, with small colorful Victorian houses. The area abounds with cafes, restaurants and terraces. I enjoy going for a drink at Spike's or Cafe Flores on Market street.

Matter of food, the neighborhood teems with health food stores selling fruits and vegetables of great quality. Japanese restaurants are fairly cheap and delicious, there is a really good one down my house. The grocer next door is palestinian, I get my MUNI cards from his store as well as international phone cards.

I met Tony an old Hawaian man working on MUNI, we sometimes chat when I come back from work, his son lives in Paris and should soon come and visit his family in San Francisco. One of these encounters on the road that I really enjoy, a smile at seven in the morning always makes my day.
There is also the Castro theater across the street, they show old and alternative movies. I just viewed Oil Factor. The theater is magnificent inside as well as outside with frescoes and moldings.
Everyone seems to bear his burden never showing them. Yet life is not easy, a teacher earns twice less than in Geneva. On top of that work is more difficult because the school lacks means, the printers don't work because there is no ink, I ended up buying my own as well as paper, the photocopies are controlled, you have to fill in forms if you want to print documents, hand in the form and pick them up the next day. You also have to fill in forms related to copyright in which you assume the responsability for the documents you print. The classes are overpopulated, but nobody really seem to complain, it is part of the game.
The teachers listen to the students, value them and I have not yet witnesses negative discussions about a student. The Instructors help them, any student on his way back to school has to be help as well and as efficiently as possible even when the students are not acting in a positive way. And where another school would have failed and sent the student back home, the college aims at giving him/her more attention. I am flabergasted by this tolerance and these integration efforts to integrate the needy. Laney aims at integrating all ethnies, all nationalities, all physical handicaps as well as all social differences.

Johnny my homeless student is surprising, he keeps coming with a lot of enthousiam and he makes progress. He is in the process, like the other students of the class, of writing about his life. He works at a slow pace, but it is grand to walk him through the experience, to listen to him voicing his happiness of meeting people, of socializing. The other day he came to class with work he had done alone on the theme he was supposed to work on. He had worked alone for four hours. He had found a quizz in a school book about the subject and had aswered the questions so as to structure his presentation. The sheets of paper were in a terrible state because he had worked in the street, but the content was deeply moving. To the question : "What is the thing you would not like people to know about? ", he wrote :"My loneliness". Or "What do you think about when you can't sleep?", "Find a way to go back to school."
There is also Konya who always arrived with a sad and grumpy look, today she surprised me by putting her hand on my shoulder and smiling to me. The team is hard at work, everyone of them is writing the story that they are going to put online for those who agree with the concept. I love my job even if sometimes I go home heartbroken.
Monday will be Labor day, a three day weekend, yoga, reat and a tour to Napa Valley and Marin County is planned.