My trip to San Jose would not be complete without a few more tidbits about this idyllic area, an area of opposites such as the huge, towering sandy hills overlooking the lush green valleys and the steaming, paved streets outlined by flowers and bushes of every hue; plants that need only a tiny amount of rain to retain their vibrant colors. (The fact that San Jose is in a valley minimizes the rainfall in the area, actually meeting the definition of a “drought.”)

At night, the air is slightly cool, and the streetlights are colored bright yellow, making it a game of “Where’s Waldo” to pick out the actual yellow traffic signals mixed among them. Red and green are easy to spot, but if it is yellow, it is a surreal eternity of yellow, like looking in a mirror in a mirror.

Advanced technology is in evidence everywhere. In the stores and malls, young children enjoy rented stroller rides with an iPad in every seat, allowing parents to shop without the stress of entertaining their mini-mes. Parking lots have covered spots to park, allowing cars to stay in the shade while the patron is shopping or working. Upon further inspection, the structures are made of solar panels, thus making it a place to turn sunlight into electricity while keeping the heat and rain off of the automobiles. San Jose has the greatest ratio of Tesla automobiles in the country, and electrical plugs for refills are in abundance, allowing for 100 miles per gallon without ever going near a gas station. Vacationing there is like a glimpse into the possibilities of the future.

Our vacation atmosphere, however, was jolted out of place one day with the slight rumble of an earthquake. It is one thing to know of the existence of the San Adreas Fault, but yet another to have your toes wiggle against the side of your sandals as you grasp onto the sidewalk for leverage. No one else misses a beat, accustomed to the minor shimmies and shakes, but for me it was an awakening to the possible dangers of the area. My son showcased the earthquake straps on the furniture in his home, and demonstrated the ease of placement of their “survival kit” which held enough water, food, medical supplies and batteries for a month. He laughed at the look on my face when he showed me, minimizing it and comparing it to how New Englanders buy bread and milk during snowstorms and hurricanes.

My favorite memory was from the San Francisco Zoo where we sat on a bench to view the micro-world of the animals. It was the gorillas in which I was most enthralled, never having seen such a regal animal before. The Silver Back “alpha” male sat atop a tall rock formation, able to see in all directions to protect his group. The rest of the group kept themselves busy, swinging on a swing, chewing on food, playing in the water and caring for the young. The sign on the exhibit reported that the gorilla’s DNA is 97.7 percent the same as a human’s; they find things humorous and they interact almost human-like with each other. I spotted an adult cuddled up in the corner looking much the same way as I do for a nap; laying on her side, hands pulled up into a ball under her chin, legs curved back at the knees, “smile” on her face. Another gorilla came warbling over and sat next to her. He rubbed her back gently, poked a finger inside her ear, brushed back the hair on the top of her head with a hand, and, without getting any reaction, laid down next to her and put his arm around her. She reached behind her, not compromising her naptime position, but grasping onto his hand, holding it. The two of them napped on the warm ground in the San Francisco Zoo, much like Hubby and I enjoy napping on Sunday afternoons.

Maybe San Jose wasn’t so much more different than Rhode Island after all.