On the top of the world

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  On the top of the world

  Paris - San Gimignano -Lhassa -Kyoto -Mandalay -San Francisco

  Madeleine Ruh

  Copyright © 2015 Madeleine Ruh

  All rights reserved.

  Ebook formatting by www.ebooklaunch.com

  Table of contents

  13 November 2015

  Je suis Charlie

  The trench coat

  Mister Martin is dead

  Morphine

  Gone

  The balloon

  The weird house

  The party

  The fat woman

  I could have killed him

  The nest

  Ruben Espinosa has been murdered in Mexico

  I'm the mother

  The driver

  Myriam and the little house near Limoges

  Mother's day in LA

  The Chinese guide

  The non expected baby

  The betrayal

  On the top of the world

  What would have said Haruki Murakami ?

  At Benesse house

  Bats

  The Airbnb guy

  The nuns

  13 November 2015

  I arrived in San Francisco three weeks ago, the hearth beating fast, the mind full of hope and open to new possibilities. I came alone, to find a house, to meet people and find a job, and to activate my visa and social security card, all the boring stuff. My husband would come a few weeks later and work in Paris. My boys are student in Canada in Universities.

  My latest days were dark days.

  Why should we come to San Francisco ? A mix of a dream, the little blue house of Maxime Le Forestier's song "C'est une maison bleue tout là haut sur la colline…", the yoga and meditation spirit, the fact that forty pour cent of the people living here don't come from America, and another forty were not born in San Francisco, the blue sky and the sun when it's not foggy, the crispy air of any port city in the world, from Lisbonna, to Istanbul, from Osaka to New York.

  I like the idea of arriving somewhere where people still think nothing is impossible and they can change the world. After forty five, people you meet mean a lot, you don't have time to lose with things that you don't like. Then, if you're lucky enough to choose, you continue growing by discovering new people and a new environment.

  Who did I met ? A lot of people. You know, the best way to talk to people is not coffee in San Francisco. I tried, but the young millenials are all on their laptops, ignoring their mug, and not eating much of their chocolate brownie. It smells good in this huge coffees, where you can live the "live-roasting" experience. Here, the idea is coffee is a fruit, fresh and organic, and so, nothing to do with our little café de Paris, with a waiter not speaking much and lines on his forehead as he knows things you don't and he has a lot of concerns. Here, the guy is a hipster, and offer you to taste the organic apple juice that is a treat, "really, I mean it".

  The best way to talk to people is neither biking or walking in the Golden gate park or in the streets. People are looking cool, they're not as tense as in New York, but they've got something to do, wether with their children, their dog, their friends, they're busy.

  The best way to talk to people is Uber, and sharing a car with Uber pool tool. You order the cab on your phone three minutes later, the car is here. The driver is hispanic, asian, or from pakistan. He does that for the extra money, from time to time, he's a PHD, paying for his studies, or a Mexican mother not knowing how to go from Palo Alto to the Golden gate, but nicely making a stop for you to take a picture (you're still a tourist after three weeks) in a weird place, the only one she found.

  I went everywhere with Uber. Seven dollars each time.

  Potrero and Dog patch, to purchase furniture. Yes, I hadn't time to tell you, I found a house to rent, a tiny little old house, the renter said to me they found a post card dated 1911, with a cute little yard, in a quite district : Noe Valley. A line of colored Victorian houses. To come back from the 24th street with all restaurants and shops, we'll have to climb the hill. "But they're young and healthy" said the seventy years old wife to his husband when we signed the contract.

  You've go nice views from Potrero on the Skyline. And a French butcher, Olivier, everyone is mentioning to me, as Americans don't cut their meat the same way as we do.

  Marina district. A mix of houses looking like coming from a Western movie, big windows that wouldn't resist a tsunami (but who cares in San Francisco, the topics is cautiously avoided), and show white sofas, heavy wood tables, and roccoco decor with gold and plenty of suprising pillows.

  Hayes Valley. My prefered place. It smells marijuana in the part of Hayes street close to the Golden Gate park. Here you can meet a guy with a crasy pink coat, interviewed by an artist, with his dog puppet, another selling for one dollar a dvd supposed to make you understand the world, and think to be in Tibet in all shops, full of mask, fabrics and little stuff. Near Octavia's street, it's "bobo" as we would say in France, people in their thirties in couples, happy to enjoy a coffee or a salad outside, window shopping.

  Castro. I swear to you, I met a naked man on the curv, and nobody was suprised. He had just a little gold leave on his penis, and a bag. Gay couples kiss each others on the street. Gay bar welcome gay girls with short hair and tatoo. You don't feel really at ease, as becoming the one that is different, especially being alone, but people welcome you.

  Mission. I love Valencia street with street art, restaurants, chocolate shops, and Mexican food. Hispanic culture is at the top, and Dolores park belong to them, even if they welcome the hipster tribe.

  Pacific Heights. So wealthy, you've got the idea to be in a famous movie, where the heroes would be a couple in a romantic comedy, hesitating to purchase a candle for home, or a new cosmetic brand created by a bio guru, or a tee shirt that nobody has.

  Soma. I've lived for three weeks in Natoma Street, between 6th and 7th. Seventh street is ok, but sixth one, is the fied of homeless and crack drug addicts. They don't even look at you in the evening, in their own world. People said to me not to be afraid. Just smile if they talk to you. Just smile. Is ask if the city was taking care of them, they do, but leave them in the streets. Soma is also where start ups begin their work, or cowork in places that are now worth billion, such as Wework.

  Financial district. It's a mix of Boston's buildings with the red orange color, and New York , sky scrapers, huge elevators and doormen requesting your passport, and a few art galeries, because rich doesnt' mean purchasing wines, and only practising kite surf.

  Rediscovering a city is amazing, and I wonder if people visiting Paris have the same surprise, mixing with different tribes according to where they live.

  Montrmartre bohème. Auteuil Passy chic and classic. Bastille lively and young. Les halles arty. Saint Germain intellectual and casual elegance…

  I began that short stories book in January, it was just after the events in Paris, terrorist attacks that made famous everywhere in the big cities :"Je suis Charlie", as a symbol of support.

  At the moment of me writting the followings lines, air strikes have been launched by French Government in Syria. CNN has just reveal it, it's 3.00 am Pacific Time, it's midnight in Paris.

  In Uber, I met plenty of different people. The woman in her thirties, that asserts she won't take anylonger Uber as it's too long to wait for other people sharing the car to reach their destination. She looks stress, I wonder if she's a single in her thirties. The other guy that doesn't say much and appears to be a GI that had to fight in Aghanistan, and goes to drink a beer with other friends. The woman says : "We need you guys… I don't catch what is your motivation doing military, but we need it, really."

  The two friends that wo
uld come in Paris for nine hours, waiting for their second flights, and wants the best addresses.

  The short hair guy with naked arms and just a short and a blue doudoune, that complaints to his silencious friend about Los Angeles : "The old guys have the power, they're all in their fifties, have a comfortable life, and they don't care one minute about discovering new talents. It's a shame, something must change."

  The indian woman that has just attended a conference about machine learning and says it's her second time in Uber and that she's happy. The asian guy that looks shy but suddenly explains to the three people in the car what is the best app for food delivery. And that founders shouldn't ask for so much money from VCs because it's the end of their freedom.

  The driver from Mali. The one speaking French and dreaming to come back for a honey moon like trip with his girl friend.

  I met a lot of people in meetings. Cool guys, meditating twice a day, rich, but also rich about the meaning of their life, and what matters to them. I met resilient guys, coming from boat people, having to fight for a living, begining their start up in their garage, courageous,