Lapis sky, sequinned sea
Perfect car, perfect we,
Don Henley on repeat.
Summer boys whoop and wave,
Shiny teeth, flattery.
We just smile, having fun,
In our blue convertible!
Salty air, salty skin,
Scandi-gold, smooth as silk.
White tee-shirts, denim shorts,
Wind-whipped hair, old flip-flops.
Bright red toes, shell-pink nails,
We just smile, having fun,
In our blue convertible!
Volume high, seat-dancing.
Cruise-control, Highway 1,
Southward bound, chasing fun.
Big Sur days, crazy times,
Joy and I,
Kind of wild!
We just smile, having fun,
In our blue convertible.
🌊🌿🌞❤️🍾
Good morning!
A couple of weeks ago, I had a phone call from an old friend in California. Years - what am I saying? Decades! - have passed since Joy and I last saw each other. It had also been forever since we spoke.
Our conversation brought back a flood of great memories from when I lived at Joy's house in California, way back in the eighties. Joy is one of the most generous people I’ve ever met, welcoming me into her home for months (and months!) at a time. She worked as a freelance real estate agent and was, therefore, master of her own schedule.
A fun-loving, mischievous free spirit about ten years older than me, Joy loved to party, and often threw impromptu late-afternoon gatherings that turned into all-night fiestas, complete with guitars, singing, dancing, plenty of beer, wine, Margaritas, and the occasional smile-enhancing accessory for anyone so inclined.
Joy and I would often take off down the coast in her trailer for a few days in Big Sur, camping at Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park. I adored Big Sur, with its wild, unspoilt beaches, majestic forests, and picture-perfect river. I loved the laid-back hippie vibe, Happy Hour at the River Inn, and those gloriously floppy late nights at Esalen, where we’d loll in hot tubs beneath the stars, thoroughly off our trolleys, chatting with complete strangers until dawn. Magical powers would then cruise-control us back to Joy’s campervan, where we’d sleep for a few hours before heading back to the River Inn for bacon, eggs, and hashbrowns to soak up the hangovers.
Later, we might hike up a canyon in search of the elusive waterfalls our hot hippie friend Johnny swore existed, or wander down to the beach, watch the waves, and hatch plans for another unforgettable evening.
Close to forty years later, I look back in utter awe at Joy’s generosity, so freely given and, in my youthful thoughtlessness and naivety, probably largely taken for granted at the time. I hope I managed to repay some of that kindness when we later travelled together to Switzerland for further adventures.
I don't have the perfect photo to share with the little poem I wrote with Joy in mind. I'm not currently at my home in Switzerland where I'd have found a myriad fun photos of those days. Then I remembered a grainy old Hotel California video I made at Joy's house, circa 1984. I'd spent hours splicing it together using rudimentary equipment, matching scenes to the beat of the music. I wasn't sure I still had it saved in my photos, but there it was, waiting patiently!
Time has made this recopied VHS video extremely grainy, but I don’t mind. I think the grain gives it extra cachet. It’s a slice of life. A moment. An era.
Also, have you ever met anyone who could drive with one leg out the window?
I have. Her name is Joy!
With lots and lots of love,
Francesca xxx
