Tat sleeves, lanky, a well-kept black mohawk: a metro punk. That's my initial profile. Well spoken, intelligent, kind: upon his opening a conversation with me. As I began to return his niceties with questions, I illicited information about his past career which far outstripped mine in interest.
Anton had grown up with a Greek (and Greek Orthodox) Motheer who had migrated from Qubec, and with a father, who I took to be Italian, (and Roman Catholic) in Sanfrancisco;s Little Italy- a stone throw from Chinatown. Thus he had political dual citizenship, religious dual schismship (if you see what I just did there) and was naturally aware of cultural diversity.
When I told him where I Hailed from he told me he loved it, that if he were to live in another city on basis of its own merits, that victoria would top the list. Considerable, esspecially considering he;d been around.
Anton received his masters of divinity from a Roman Catholic institution in New orleans before beccoming a monk in a monestary in Athos for what he said was "many years", though this confused me, because he didn't look so much older than me. In time he decided to study eastern traditions by living at their monestaries, and as an ambassador on behalf of his tradition. Now he was a lay monk, living back in his home city of San Francisco- a place I wonder if he;d ever left in spirit.
He was my tourguide through his old backyard of chinatown, and as he took me into, first a bhuddist, and then a dowist shrine (forgive me if that's the wrong term) he revealed that his immerrsion to an understanding of these traditions dated to his childhood there. He would never leave San Francisco for Victoria on basis of its own merit, not while this was his home- I could tell that. For me Anton will personify what I liked best about his city.
That night he called out spanish names in a impromptu game of bingo in the pub next to the hostel. And as he did I heard him laugh to his friend, the bartender, how there was something absurd about someone, with his mdiv, repeating mispronounced spanish phrases.
like a trained parrot, in a game of bingo, for a few people, in some hole in the city's
many walls. And yet, he came back, continuing his aside a few minutes later.
"And yet this is actually one of my favorite things to do!"
I Wish I knew more of Antons story. I wish i could ask him questions for hours, but San Francisco itself, those answers would not be rendered for a mere passer-through.
Yes, you may see the smile genuine on my face, but you may not know why I smile.
a beauty of diversity. no gloss. no charms.
a trueness to joy, to self as a gift for others joy.to be the part of a mosaic. its ok to go home if that feeds you, for perhaps that is what defines it in large part- even the simplest and the smallest of joys.