My friend Virginia is a remarkable person, so when I heard
that a piece of her writing had been published in an anthology alongside pieces
by the likes of Dave Eggers, Ann Pachett, and Jane Smiley, I wasn't surprised.
Never mind that Virginia hasn't been published before. This is just the kind of
thing one gets used to hearing when one knows Virginia. The anthology, titled An Innocent Abroad, is a Lonely Planet
publication edited by a man named Don George with whom Virginia took a travel writing class. He
liked her piece so much he proposed that it be included in his book.
Virginia, a lawyer, moved recently to Colombia with her Bogotá-born husband Jorge. I heard details about the publication from our
mutual friend Cathy. The three of us met in high school and I feel lucky to
still count them among my friends; they're some of the most interesting,
insightful women I know. Cathy, whose Taiwanese parents raised her on an Aramco
compound in Saudi Arabia, has worked in various countries including Haiti. She
now calls Santa Cruz home, and when she mentioned that she was planning to go
watch Virginia read a section of her essay at a Bay Area bookstore, I decided I
had to join them.
I flew out to meet Cathy on Friday night. We went to one of
the most authentic ramen places I've encountered in this country, then retired
to the eclectic house she shares with an aging sculptor and several other
roommates. The place is full of Susan's sculptures celebrating femininity and
statues of Buddha. We spent the next morning walking for miles along Santa
Cruz's breath-taking coastline, then picked up Virginia in San Francisco to
drive her to the bookstore, Book Passages, in Marin County.
Neither Cathy nor Virginia had been to a book reading before, and I hadn't attended one for months. Five other authors, none of them famous outside very small travel-writing or Bay Area authors' circles, were there to read from their pieces, too. Virginia was very nervous. She said she kept telling herself that this wasn't court and that a person's future did not hang in the balance of her ability to know the answers to difficult questions. At least eighty people arrived, including a large fan section composed of Virginia's friends.
Don George, a balding man with twinkling eyes, introduced
each author warmly and pronounced each piece a "beautiful story" at
its conclusion. Virginia was fourth of the six and her introduction, though
warm and enthusiastic, lacked the accolades George piled on the other authors since she'd never been published before. Nevertheless, she held
her own among the other accomplished authors and was so serene that one would
never have guessed she'd spent weeks fretting about this day. Her story is an intense one about a
harrowing three days in the Puna, a vast desert region in Argentina so dry it
is often compared to Mars. I thought one of the other stories I heard was only OK
but Cathy and I both agreed that another was very good and the remaining pieces
were excellent.
I was sorry to say goodbye to Virginia, who I wouldn't see
again before she headed back to Colombia. Cathy and I had a pleasant dinner in
Sausalito, then drove back to Santa Cruz. We had time for a quick breakfast the
next morning before it was time to head to the airport.
It was a wonderful trip, but too short, and though I enjoyed
the time I spent with a few friends I was sorry my time in the enchanting Bay
Area couldn't include visits to the many other friends and family members who
live there. However, I was encouraged that the flight there was easy enough
that nothing should discourage me from making frequent trips to a place I love
to see people I love in the future.
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