Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Cannon Beach: Social confusion, Hell

All summer we have been riding to the end of the Americas. Riding to the other side of this great mass of land, not a lot different than Meriwether Lewis and William Clark. Only moving was much easier for us. In fact, a lot of the time we were on the same trails they traveled--sort of, I mean the highway folk put up signs that say your on the same path, but lets be honest, some of the places they went over the mountains the highway builders just left alone or went around.



So when we were within a couple miles of the Pacific the highway gave us the option to go to Seaside, OR or Cannon Beach, OR. They were each 4 miles in one direction. Both had been recommended to us. We went to Cannon Beach because we would have to go north up through Seaside--that would allow us to see both.



Cannon Beach is a little town with plenty of beach-line. It's quaint enough, with all kinds of little tourist attractions: shops, restaurants, bed and breakfasts, hotels, and the like. A number of wealthy people lived there, their quaint-looking little cottages on the land coming right up to the sand on the beach. Blues ones and beige ones and wooden ones and stone ones. They were all very nice.



We walked to the beach and looked out into the ocean. It was really foggy. Dreary, really. And the people around us didn't pay much attention until Andy asked:



"Hi. We just pedaled our bikes from New Jersey. We were wondering if you would mind if we left our stuff here while we dipped our tires in the water."



"Uh. ya it's public space here. I think." He briefly turned around to acknowledge us and just as quickly turned back around to keep eating.



"Would you mind just making sure no one takes them, then?" Andy asked. Looking for someone to pay any attention. He wasn't really talking that softly. They had to have heard him.



In a few seconds a lady came over and started talking to us.



"You guys just rode from New Jersey?"



"Ya. We've been riding to raise money for water wells in Uganda..." And thus began the usual banter about what we had just (about) finished doing and why.



She was quite nice. She even took our picture, like we were statues or a coral reef that she had heard about and come to visit there in Cannon Beach. Then she left.



Looking around we figured we might as well head down to the beach. And so we did.



We joked around a bit in the tide. And got some passersby to take perhaps an annoying amount of pictures of us. Or at least that's what their non-verbals communicated (I had just finished a book "The definitive book of body language" by the Peases').



We returned to find that a lady from the hotel we left our stuff sit beside had watered the plants just above our pile. Most of our stuff was pretty wet. So we went down the street to a pizza place. We showed the cashier our brochures and asked for a discount--we hadn't asked for a discount before, but figured we might as well give it a shot as dinner was bound to be expensive and it was the pinnacle of our trip. He said he'd check with the manager. We waited. He asked for our order. He continued his duties, set the brochure under a pile of stuff off to the side, and returned--not having asked anyone about anything--and wrung us up, not mentioning anything.



Well, fair enough. We had experienced the unwelcoming feeling in plenty of towns along the way. All of them tourist places. Or at least rich places.

The whole time I'd been trying to figure out why we felt like we did while in them. I figure they're well off, they don't need anyone else. They've attained what they want in life. They then import people to work the jobs they don't want to put up with and let people come and experience what they live every day for a price, or course.

So it makes sense that they don't want dirty cyclists or homeless--yes, we're comparable at this point--hanging around. It's not good for business--that is, the business classes don't want to put up with or look at people like us. It's scary, especially as they're so far removed from such people. They don't understand them because they don't ever see them.

And a lot of the tourists aren't really interested because we're just in the way. They're here to relax, not to go to jail for accidentally running over a cyclist.

One thing I noticed, though, is that locals don't even pay much attention to the tourists. They just do what's expected and leave them alone. The tourists seem to prefer it that way, as if to say, "I'm on vacation and I don't want to be bothered by some minority I'm not used to interacting with, please don't bother me little Mexican man." And so the menial employees don't bother them.

When I was living in Santa Cruz, CA I would often become irritated with all the tourists on the weekends because they caused an unbelievable amount of traffic. I was the one who lived there. Why couldn't they surf their own part of the coast? It only makes sense that the places where everyone wants to be make money off of their little slice of heaven. And when so many people are constantly imposing their presence on a place it becomes nearly impossible to want any kind of connection. There are too many, too often, and so the human interaction suffers. The locals isolate themselves because, living in such a beautiful place and having so many resources, people always want things from you--I'd imagine.

I wonder if the responsibility of helping the less fortunate is something people consider when they aspire to be wealthy or choose to live in beautiful places. It's certainly not something I considered.

So anyway. We camped, illegally, in the back of the school playground. It was real close to the beach. Only a fence and a bush separated us. A neighbor woke up around 6 a.m. and noticed two tents in the school yard. Terrified or irritated or angry (?) they called the cops to have us removed. Maybe if I ever become wealthy I'll understand that move.

I'll end by pointing out a couple things:

Seaside, a bigger, and perhaps less wealthy town 8 miles up the coast didn't seem to have any rules that didn't allow people to camp.

Is making rules against letting people sleep in your town pushing homeless people to specific places (often cities)? And is it similar to making rules that wouldn't allow black or minority people to sleep in a town?

And that is why I'd go just about anywhere I could connect with someone over the most beautiful place void of any relationship. Solomon pointed that out in one of his proverbs.

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