27 December 2012

Non assistance à personne en danger

-"Bon, je dois te laisser, avec cette sale histoire, mon père est de très mauvaise humeur, je ferais mieux de ne pas trainer". Debout derrière le portillon, Aurore vient de me raconter que son frère est lui aussi incriminé dans une enquête pour agression sexuelle. Ses yeux bleus ne montrent pas de la colère, mais de l'inquiétude. De nature douce, elle veut d'abord protéger son frère. Je revois le sourire du jeune garçon et mon cœur, prit entre deux sentiments, se serre un peu. Tout a commencé avec l'arrestation du frère d'une de nos amies d'enfance, tout juste sorti de prison. J'avais appris la nouvelle quelques heures avant que la jolie brune ne s'arrête devant chez moi. J'apprends maintenant que son frère, du même âge, y est aussi mêlé. La campagne n'a décidément rien à envier à la ville. 
-"Ok, repasses dès que tu peux, ça n'est que partie remise" je la rassure. Espérant que nous ferons honneur à notre annuelle retrouvaille autour d'un café.
Avec un léger sourire elle s'éloigne et monte dans sa petite voiture grise garée à quelques mètres de là. Je me retourne, prête à traverser la cour pour rejoindre la douce chaleur du feu qui brule dans la cheminée du salon. 
C'est alors que je remarque trois jeunes inconnus prêts à rejoindre la terrasse surélevée. Je m'avance rapidement pour les devancer et leur barrer l'entrée de la maison. 
-"Que faites-vous ici? Comment êtes-vous entrés?" Je demande nerveusement. 
-"On est venu en tout amitié, voir, comme ça.." répond nonchalamment un brun dont le sourire bien tracé n'a rien de naturel. 
-"Et bien si vous voulez qu'on soit amis, commencez par sortir de chez moi" je les somme. L’autre garçon et la jeune fille qui se tiennent en arrière me fixent avec le même sourire nauséabond. 
-"Ah non, ça ne va pas être possible, je n’ai pas envie" ajoute-t-il sur le même ton olympien. Je m'apprête à me lancer dans un discours hurlant sur le respect de la propriété quand je me rends compte que la cour s'est transformée en parc public. Ça n'est plus trois mais une trentaine d'intrus qui foulent l'herbe verte du jardin familiale. 
Pas question de les laisser entrer, je suis droite comme un fusil dans mes bottes, prête à dégainer toutes les armes que mon corps et mon intellect me procurent. 
Je ne vois pas le premier coup arriver. C'est par le côté qu'un garçon me frappe. La douleur est vive dans mes côtes mais j'ai connu pire. Je serre les dents et les montre. 
Quelque chose bouge à la fenêtre du voisin. Ou plutôt quelqu'un. Dans le contour de briques rouges, ma mère, confortablement assise, une tasse de café à la main. Le profil pâle de ma voisine lui fait face, toutes deux sont en pleine conversation et ne remarquent pas ce qui se passe de l'autre côté de la rue, trois mètres plus bas. 
-"Maaaammmmmaaaaaannnnnn" je me mets à hurler, "Maaaammmmaaaaan, APPELLES LA POLICE". Je fixe désespérément la façade blanche. Il faut plusieurs secondes avant que ma mère m'entende. Secondes qui suffiront à mes agresseurs pour me maitriser. A deux, ils me tiennent pieds et poings liés. Je garde les yeux sur ma mère qui me sourit. "Oh non c'est pas vrai". Je n'y crois pas. Elle pense que je m'amuse avec des amis et ne prête guère plus attention.
Lorsque mes agresseurs commencent à me déshabiller, elle s'est déjà retournée.

3 December 2012

USA West coast road trip - Part 1 - San Francisco

Day 1
The bus is full of Hispanic and the signs in Spanish. With the help of the jet lag, my brain could easily think I'm in South America. But I'm not. I've landed at the San Francisco airport half an hour ago and now I'm in the Sam Trans bus to the city center. I'm the only white person with a suitcase, it's clearly a workers’ bus. After a one hour journey,  I stop at 4th street. I need to walk to the 10th which takes me a good 20mins of dragging my red suitcase but I don't mind. I'm on holidays for three weeks and nothing or nobody will spoil that. With a huge smile, I face the inhabitants walking in and out of work or stores.
My fingers are sore when I buzz in. Our host, Diego, explains where the key is hidden as he's still at work. As always when Couch surfing, I wonder if I'll end up in a dump or a palace. A strong smell catches me when I walk in the building and I'm starting to think it will be the first one. But I reconsider when the door opens on a vast and newly refurbished looking loft. Exhausted, I lay on the sofa for a few minutes.
Two hours later, the door opens and I hear three sets of foot stepping in. Two of them belong to my travel partners who arrived with a later flight. I welcome them and introduce myself to our host, face to face this time. The evening is easy as the three of us are completely jet lagged.  We have dinner at home, eating Chinese and listening to Diego's good advises.
Sausalito boat houses
Day 2
I wake up as the sun shine through the huge windows covered with thin curtains. After a long and complex discussion about the weather and what to wear, we set off and get lost searching for a coffee place. We ask a German sounding man who give us directions and end up having a quick breakfast in someone's kitchen (or so it seemed). We then take the tube to the Pier 1 where we have decided to rent bikes. Enjoying the wind's blow, we ride along the bay through the Pier 39 which reminds us of a little Disneyland. Sometimes walking next to our bikes, we follow the hills up to the Golden gate. My fear of height pushes me to cross the magnificent red bridge as fast as I can whilst the girls stops to take pictures. The gap between us gets even bigger when we bike downhill. It's their turn to be scared as I speed down to Sausalito. Before discovering the beautiful colours and styles of the Marina boat houses, we stop by the Napa Valley Burger Co. Time to taste my first burger in the United States (it actually tastes like any average burger).
Few buses with bikes rakes drive next to us and we decide to hop in one for the way back. The driver helps us get ours fixed then nicely let us ride free as we haven't yet made any change and he won't take our bills. We stop after the brigde and ride down to the very Roman, Palace of Fine arts. 
After a second stop at Pier 39 to wave at the sea lions, we hurry to bring the bikes on time. The guy invites us for a drink in an Asian bar right behind Pier 1. We agree. It's not my kind of place but I never say no to a beer wherever I drink it. 
Less than two hours later we head back home. On the way, we walk past an old man wearing his shoes, a backpack and nothing else. We are so shocked (out of surprise not judgment) we hardly believe it. Nobody around us seem to notice. We will later learn that it is allowed to walk around naker in San Francisco*. 
For the evening, Diego has planned to take us dinner with his friends. We are exhausted but accept out of politeness. Mistake. We have to take a cab to get to the restaurant where we eat without listening to the conversation, only trying not to fall face first in our plates. Then get a ride back home.

Six painted ladies
Day 3
I'm still completely jet lag. I wish I wasn't. I want to be full of energy to enjoy this amazing city but my body and brain all scream in chorus: sleep sleep SLEEP!! I keep bumping in everything; I drag my feet and can only thank my friend for keeping me from falling head first a few times. By the time we sit for breakfast at Stacks in Hayes Valley, I've got more bruises on my body than a retired All Black player. The plates are huge, too big for our little European stomachs and I'm ashamed at the waste.
The day goes pretty quickly with our Argentinian host nicely driving us through many stops, some nicer than others. Alamo square and the cute six painted ladies; the modern cathedral; the disappointing Japan center where seeing half naked Sumo was a highlight; the mythic Twin Peaks; the Golden Gate park; the "ugly or I should say, created with a style which is not my cup of tea" M. H. de Young memorial museum; Ouest park; Sutro heights park; the posh Sea cliff houses; Sud Presidio; the George Lucas studio where my Star wars fan of a friend bowed in front of a Yoda statue and the don't-get-drunk-there Lombard street.
No need to say that after that, my exhaustion was back. I decide to have a nap before dinner and am awaken by the sound of people laughing as two of Diego's friend came in. After approximately 2 second of internal debate, I conclude that my body is more important than social rules therefore ignore them and sleep some more. The rest of the night clearly confirms my initial instinct. We decided to head out to the delirium but our lack of ID forced us into the Valencia RnB bar. After a few drinks, we accept the failure of our evening and head back home.


Boat sailing in front of Golden gate bridge
Day 4
The four of us are meeting Mat at Fort Masson. The brown haired couch surfer nicely offered to take us to across the bay with his sailing boat. The outbound is very relaxing. As it did the previous days, the sun is shining and we have an incredible view on the bridge. The inbound is a little bit more complicated. Caroline gets very uncomfortable as the little boat is nearly standing on 90degrees. She keeps waving the sea away without much success. At some point we have to take over as Mat need a toilet break. In the circumstances he needs to do it in a bucket. Us girls and our shy bladder syndrome couldn't imagine succeeding such attempt. Just as Mat managed to let himself be, drops of water came to Caroline's face getting us to crack up laughing.
Not without some scares, we finally got back to the port. Thanking once again, Couch surfing for all the good people and opportunity it put on our way. Diego drops us at the Union square from which we slowly walk home. Tonight, we are cooking to thank our host. Well, to be honest, the girls cooked while I was having another one of my famous naps. For my defense, I'm not a great cook so it was probably best for everyone's sakes.


Day 5.1
Last day in San Francisco. We walk to Clarion street to admire the art that covers its walls.  Then we greet the gay area of Casto which is quite discreet compared to Soho. Finally we end up in the Marijuana filled hippies street of Haight and Ashbury where the time seems to stop at 4.20pm.
Before we know it, it's time to head back to the airport. We're all gutted to leave. As soon as we set a foot here, we fall in love with the city. We cheer up by thinking of all the other incredible places we are going to see.
That's when we get to the Avis desk and are told the reservation we have made through a third party provider is not in their system.
A road trip without a car? Hum...that's going to be fun!

                                                                                                             To be continued....

* The law will be changed a few month later and now, sadly for our old friend, it is not allowed to be naked in San Francisco anymore.