Last breakfast in Berkeley/First breakfast in Temescal

Last breakfast in Berkeley/First breakfast in Temescal…a blog post in three parts.

Part I–Breaky in Berkeley at the Bowl

I begin todays Temescal Times post not in Temescal but in Berkeley. My final breakfast at my most recent preferred spot for all things coffee, eggs, etc., the illustrious Berkeley Bowl. Strong dark coffee and healthy servings of eggs, potatoes, bacon in a large tortilla, a three minute walk from my June home, made this place the best option for a.m. sustenance. Not the most cozy or comfortable feel (see attached photo), often feeling like the employee break room as a larger portion of the diners are on their breaks, the food is reasonably priced and as good as any local restaurant in similar proximity. I sit loving my strong cuppa joe and capturing my thoughts the old fashioned way, pen to paper.

Today Tung moves into the room I am moving out of. He is coming from Singapore for a PhD program scheduled to last six months. It took nearly a month of emails to secure his place here. I anxiously awaited his deposit to secure my liberation and opportunity to move to my new digs. The house into which he is moving is a complex multi-layered residence, both physically and metaphorically, meticulously watched over by an aging Panamanian, J. Lo. A semi-famous singer by the name of Sylvia that gladly shares her metaphysical philosophies about the saintly Christopher Columbus, the true nature of the Mayan peoples, as well as a great treatise on a variety of ascended Masters, the true relationship of Jesus and Mary, etc. etc., others may find it a bit much but I found it fascinating. 

On the more mundane side of things she runs a tight ship, leaving notes on ovens, tables, countertops, to remind tenants to “Clean this”, “You don’t have a maid”, “This is the sacred place of eating”, and on and on. “Sylvia’s notes” conjure a smile from all residents followed quickly by a sigh. As a tenant this can feel very constrictive and controlling. One might ask why she puts herself through all the frustration, couldn’t she just hire someone to watch over the house and live a much more peaceful life?

Oddly, in spite of it all I can totally identify with her. I too share these micro-management tendencies, this desire to have all things exactly where they are supposed to go. I have a tendency to hold others to a high standard that I have set for myself, often lacking the ability to understand that we are all doing the best we can with what we have.

It has been a true gift to be able to witness this reflection of one of my own less evolved traits play out so clearly before my eyes, reminding me to relax a little more, have a little more perspective and realize that even though it may feel like life and death hang in the balance the truth is much more complex and simple at the same time.

One great thing that comes from this kind of shared suffering is the comradery that is born of mutual resistance. The vibe in the house is one of “Us against Them”, and often there is talk of “when are you getting out?” as though though we were serving time in prison. And naturally when one’s days are done at the house there is laudatory applause and congratulations all around.

Of course, none of this is communicated to Tung as he arrives from Singapore, wide-eyed and full of enthusiasm for his first jaunt to the U.S. (I love the way those two letters roll off the tongue of a foreigner coming to the states for the first time. Each letter carries with it so much weight. They are spoken often with a degree of reverence and awe…UUUUU. SSSS. Pregnant with all the history and depth a country of immigrants can be to someone coming here from afar, thinking that maybe they too can live the dream.)

The absence of warnings don’t come to Tung out of maliciousness or ignorance but rather out of appreciation and tolerance. Where Americans might read Sylvia’s strict rules and “homey” décor as over controlling and “Motherly” in the most repressive sort of way. For Tung, fresh from Singapore, in a world that is exploding with newness, the solid structure and faux rustic décor might give him the kind of sanctuary he needs for his short stay here.

Part II–Lunch time fun in the sun.

Time has changed friendly readers and I have to say my breakfast blog was interrupted by all kinds of distractions. Coordinating Tung and his colleague, also arriving freshly from Singapore, work emails and more.

Presently I find myself waiting for food at my newest obsession, Genova Delicatessan, here in Temescal. I am, as of an hour ago, no longer a resident of Berkeley! Out of the house and into an apartment. Excited to be moving into a classic, old, 20’s era building, with hard wood floors, and lots of ghosts in the halls. I am currently experiencing a bundle of emotions, thoughts, and sensations that I don’t fully know how to describe, at once heavy and confusing, exhilarating and exciting. There is a shift in identification on the material realm like a record quickly jumping from one song to another. I am keenly aware that my story from this moment forward has changed. I am now, “Otto who lives in Temescal.”

Over the last few days I have come to discover how truly centrally located my current domain is to a wide variety of disparate sights and interesting places…and for the first time in years and years, probably since graduating high school, I do not live in a college town. (I am resisting the urge to put an exclamation point on that sentence because of the depth of meaning that that holds for me) I have some ideas and suspicions of what this will mean for my new life but I won’t fully know the extent of it until I have lived it for a while.

So, I am presently sitting on the deck outside of the deli waiting for the count to reach my number. They started at #4 upon my arrival, my # is 29…and it is most definitely worth the wait. I am surrounded by a group of folks that come from many different backgrounds and locales. There is a large population of Ethiopians in this part of town which I love, and a cross current of others patiently waiting for their Italian subs. I wonder often if I am the face of gentrification. (I imagine that will enter more deeply into this blog at some point.)

The count is currently on 18!...And for what it’s worth to any of you future customers out there…I always get the Turkey and Provolone (heated) on the wheat roll. I have had the sweet roll and the sour dough roll and both were quite subpar. The wheat roll is surprisingly amazing…thick, chewy…almost meaty in texture. Oh! #21…better go wait in line!

Part III–Coffee in the moaning.

Ok, fast forward to Tuesday morning…coffee at the local, semi-grungy coffee spot. I find myself laughing at the part of myself that shows up in the world as the perfectionist. The problem with knowing how you like your stuff (coffee, eggs, whatever, et. al.–insert your stuff here) means that when the world deviates from that ideal, there is hell to pay. The grosser manifestation of that comes in a snide, bitchy attitude at whomever it is that is helping you out, “But this coffee tastes like crap!”, “These eggs are TOO runny!”, etc. If one has the ability to observe one’s attitude before it escapes one’s mind, trickling down to the mouth, only to dribble out, the whole experience can be quite hilarious.

“I can make better coffee than that!” Well, true, then why don’t you go home and do it? “Well, I guess I am out in the world for a new experience. I guess “subpar” coffee may just be a part of this experience of expanding my horizons. Perhaps I can see this whole thing in a new light.”

The beauty of the process of live-wire witnessing is the ability to see that, “Yes, I may be able to manifest my perceived ideal, but then what? I just continue to have the same experience everyday? With no difference or deviation? The realization comes that all of these experiences are just transitory. Breakfast today, breakfast tomorrow, breakfast the day after and the day after and so on and so on ad infinitum. So is it really about the “perfect” breakfast? Or is it about the perfect attitude and the ability to be flexible enough to confront life where it is at with buoyancy and grace? A tall order for sure but one that reaps far more benefit than just a momentary experience of getting the “perfect” cup.

Ok, I guess that is all for now. I did not anticipate these posts would be so long. Let me know what you think if you made it this far. I am certainly enjoying this process.Thanks for joining in the journey!