Welcome Home - The Last Post

I arrived via train - Amtrak's Vermonter - which, after making its way from New York city to New Haven, cuts up through Connecticut and Massachusetts before following the west bank of the Connecticut river which makes up the border of New Hampshire and Vermont. If it had been up to me, I would have had it follow the east bank and called it the New Hampshirer, but I suppose I'm not without my allegiances, and in the end it was not up to me. The ride takes six hours and is especially beautiful once the train starts following the river; at times, all you see out the window is corn fields and the winding, tree lined river banks, making you feel as if you're the only person around for hundreds of miles.

Spring Time in New Hampshire

The ride is familiar to me, so I was able to sit back and relax. As we entered Vermont I was surprised that the trees were well behind Washington and even New York as the tips of the branches held only the smallest touches of green as they entered into the beginning of spring. As I got closer to home, I started feeling a bit anxious and a bit nervous, my heart picking up pace in my chest. I guess this was it, the end of the trip and the end of the convenient excuse to not get on with my life. I was a bit surprised how tough the last thirty minutes of the ride was - you know that unbearable impatience you have when you're returning from a long trip, and you're almost home and you just can't wait any longer? Well, I hadn't had that feeling for 6 months now and here it was back in full force.

The train moved slowly to a stop and my door halted dead center in front of my folks. My mother, having read my DC post jokingly complaining about the lack of fan-fare upon my return, had brought me a balloon, and after an exchange of heartfelt hugs (though rather weak as they strained to get their arms around my large backpack), my mother said to me, "hear's your freakin' balloon". What a woman. And so, I arrived six months to the day I had left.

We piled in the car and drove the familiar 5 miles home to a fantastic meal (by request) of lasagna, my Mom's famously lethal Caesar salad (basically garlic with a touch of lettuce) and plenty of red wine. The house was about the same, the town hadn't changed much, and my parents filled me in on the small bits of news and gossip which had accumulated in the small town of 3,500 people in the last 6 months. The next day, in celebration of my return home and to mark my 27th birthday, I endeavored to do absolutely nothing- simply killing time until a trip to the local restaurant for a birthday dinner. That was nice. The weekend brought my sisters home, a trip to the Walpole players uproarious rendition of Rumours - a Neil Simon play, a hike up Mt. Monadnock, and a rib BBQ. Fortunately, we had not yet run out of excuses to party and Sunday morning the children put together a Mother's day brunch with lobster Eggs Benedict (my sister's brilliant idea - she lives in Maine), fresh fruit, sweet breads, mimosas, Bloody Marys, our neighbors (who are as good as family) and seating for seven by our small pond in the warm spring sun.

Mother's Day Brunch


Family Reunion (from left to right: my sisters, me, my mom, the neighbors, my father)

So since my return, the question of the hour (besides "how was your trip") seems to be, "What's it like to be home?" Well I'll tell you: it's disorienting, frustrating and boring, but at the same time it's comforting, relaxing and cheap. I've decided that the most unexpected result of this trip is the need to find the new me. It's interesting that I arrived in Beijing six months ago and I was frightened and confused- I wasn't sure why I was there, what I was going to do and wasn't so confident that I could pull this off. It took me a good few weeks to settle into the lifestyle and after not too long the "new me" was born - confident, decisive, independent, adventurous and most importantly, happy. There I was, I was doing it, and I was loving it.

The happiness lasted on, but eventually began being dulled by loneliness. After months on my own I started to feel alone in the down times, longing for a little consistency and sick of making friends for only a day or two, a week if I was lucky. I pushed on, keen on new adventures, but my spirit lagged a little as I looked forward to home.

So now I'm home and I find myself wondering what happened to the AJ that ran around China on tiny buses, confidently struggling with the language in pursuit of adventure, able to make decisions on a dime and always feeling as if I came out on top? You have this expectation that the experience will change you and you'll come back a totally different person, but it's not true. Upon returning, I got bombarded with the same problems I had before I left. I immediately started back into the BS of everyday life like updating my insurance, paying overdue bills, replacing my driver's license, worrying about "dating", unpacking emotional baggage from my past, then quickly trying to stuff it away again. And then there's the big question, the looming question - "OK, so I just turned 27 and returned from a 6 month vacation, now what the hell am I going to do with the rest of my life?" Along with these issues and questions, comes aspects of the old me: unsure, unconfident, mildly depressed and mostly confused. So the question before me now is simply, "Well who am I now?"

The experience of travel for me was undoubtedly life changing, with a valuable gaining of perspective on who I am and who we Americans are, and increased confidence in many areas, but the net result is not a totally different person. I felt like a new man abroad, but the context was totally different, and so I adapted and settled into a different kind of life. Now that I've returned home, I'm getting a snapshot of the old me along with the problems I was so quick to leave behind. What I feel faced with now is the need to revisit these problems, and reconcile my experiences to create the new me, the hybrid me, the me that's embolden by what I've learned and ready to take on problems in a new way and make a new life for myself. Sound good? I hope so, 'cause that's all I got...

So that's where I stand - settling down to reality and starting to be comfortable with this modified, hopefully improved version of my old self and move on from here. As I settle into it, I begin to get excited for the future. Where will I be in a month? two months? a year? Beijing? Sydney? Seattle? New York? I can't tell you, but I feel ready to take on the new adventure of getting there.

AJ

* * *

Trip Debrief
To finish off my experiment in blogging, and to give a summary of the trip, I've prepared a series of tidbits for your viewing and reading enjoyment.

Over the course of this adventure I have posted almost 500 pictures taken during my adventures which is only a fraction of the thousands I took while traveling. Rather than bore you by going through them all again, I've taken on the arduous task of narrowing down the field and have provided 50 of my favorite pictures from all over the world. These pictures have been digitally remastered and published to my Flickr site with higher resolution, new titles, and detailed descriptions... but wait there's more! On top of that, I've utilized Flickr's feature of locating the pictures on a digital map so you can see exactly where I took them. Pretty cool, eh? Now, I know what you're thinking - and the answer is definitely yes, I do have too much time on my hands these days. Maybe I should take up TV watching or crocheting as a new hobby...

The 50 Best - Click Above for the Album

To further drive home (and belabor) this point, I've also produced maps of China, Southeast Asia, Australia and New Zealand which show where I went and how I got there. This should help those of you who have complained about being geographically challenged and clueless about all the places I went (as if that's my fault). Note that on these maps the blue dots represent previously mentioned picture spots.

China Map - Click to Enlarge

Southeast Asia Map - Click to Enlarge

Australia Map - Click to Enlarge


New Zealand Map - Click to Enlarge

For my final trick, being a former engineer, I couldn't help but give a section to show the trip by the numbers:

• Departed Walpole, NH: November 8, 2006
• Arrived Walpole, NH: May 8, 2007
• Length of trip: 6 Months = 181 days
• Foreign countries visited: 8 - China, Thailand, Laos, Vietnam, Cambodia, Australia, New Zealand, Canada
• Holidays spent abroad: Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, Valentine's, St Patrick's, Easter, my sisters' and father's birthdays
  
• Different places I slept: 85, including: 5 trains, 7 buses, 3 planes and 2 boats
• Average stay: 68 hours = 2 2/3 days
• Transportation used (not counting public transport, taxis, day trips, etc.): 14 planes, 12 trains, 55 buses, 7 boats
• Books read: 17
• Activity ticket stubs saved: 73
• Pictures taken: 2,977 - roughly 16.5 per day
  
• Pictures published on Flickr: 487
• Pictures taken with me in them: 137
• Cameras killed: 1
  
• Sicknesses: 2 Food related "incidents", 1 upper respiratory tract infection and 1 spider bite
• People met: innumerable
  
• Email addresses collected: 37
• Blog postings: 36 - roughly 1 every 5 days

The Big Apple to Home

I Will Cross This Bridge

Growing up a New Hampshire country boy I spent my youth with a notion that New York City was quite possibly the most vile place on earth. I visited the city only a handful of times during my childhood and was always overwhelmed with the scale of it all, the noise and the grungy, dirty streets. But that was then, and it may surprise you learn that I’m a bit of a different person then I was 15 years ago.

Bathroom Graffiti

I first fell for New York on repeated trips to visit the many friends who took the short bus trip from Ithaca to New York after graduation. Once I learned the neighborhoods, figured out the subway and explored the streets, I started seeing New York as a vast array of interesting places instead of one monolithic giant, and once you’ve hit that point you realize the possibilities are too numerous to be ignored. I guess what I’m trying to say is that New York’s an acquired taste, and like coffee, now that I’ve gotten a taste for it, I just can’t get enough (sip, sip).

New York is also one of the world’s most (if not the most) international cities. The place is just really, really big (I can't stress this enough), very diverse, and from neighborhood to neighborhood the mix of people and cultures varies with surprising speed. That’s one of the great things about the place – from the skyscrapers of midtown to the low rooftops of Brooklyn, they’ve got just about anything you could ask for.

Manhattan from the Roof

This trip to New York turned out to be a special one since I had the pleasure of crashing in Brooklyn for the first time and with its great bars, hip coffee shops and the wonderful Prospect Park only two blocks away life was, indeed, very good.

Bocce Bar


Prospect Park Tree

Now accustom to checking out new places, I immediately grabbed my buddy’s bike to see Brooklyn. I cruised Prospect Park through the warm spring air and then headed down Beach Ave for Coney Island and the Atlantic Ocean. The ride through Brooklyn was fascinating as I flew through traditional Jewish neighborhoods, Italian neighborhoods and navigated through the veritable sea of baby strollers.

Brownstones

It was early in the season for Coney Island, but warm enough for the large, shirtless Italians to strut their stuff down the wide boardwalk, and though mildly disturbing, I wouldn’t of had it any other way. After a hotdog at the original Nathan’s hotdog stand (stand being an interesting descriptor considering that the place takes up a whole city block), I jumped back on the bike and moved on past the closed amusement parks, freak shows and the museum. The place must be hectic in the height of the season, but right now it was rather low-key which was alright by me. I then cut through Bensonhurst and onto the brand new greenway trail which follows the East river under the Verrazano narrows bridge for great views of lower Manhattan.

Coney Island Boardwalk

Also of note, I spent a day visiting the MOMA which was fantastic, and after convincing my friend Chris to shirk his responsibilities on this particularly perfect Friday afternoon, lazed about in central park and stopped by the new Grecian/Roman wing of the MET for a extravaganza of carved stone . To round out the weekend, I walked from Park Slope to Manhattan via the Brooklyn Bridge, ate nachos and drank margaritas in Tribeca to celebrate Cinco de Mayo, ate a delicious Israeli brunch, and enjoyed a fine evening back yard barbecue in Williamsburg. I’ve been told that I visited New York on the best week of the year and I certainly believe it. The weather was mid 70s and sunny, there wasn’t a drop of rain the whole time, and the flowers were out in force while the trees glew a brilliant green with new growth.

Manhattan and the Bridge


Brooklyn, For Lack of a Better Title

Other than that, life in New York involved catching up with old friends, making new friends, relaxing in the park, fighting off offers of places to crash in the city and engaging in further contemplation about begrudgingly reentering the “real world” as they refer to it.

Speaking of which, yesterday evening, after six hours of contemplation while winding through New England on the train, I finally arrived in New Hampshire six months to the day after setting out and on the eve of my 27th birthday, thus officially marking the end of this incredible experience - a sad moment no doubt, but it certainly feels good to see my family again and to unpack my bag for the last time… or at least for a while anyway…

Colonial Drive - Walpole, NH


Welcome Home

Triumphant Return

I returned to DC, my hometown for the two years prior to leaving the country, and I was honestly a bit disappointed by the reception - no band, no cheerleaders, no flowers, not a shred of confetti and not even a single frickin’ balloon. Initial shock over at the anti-climactic nature of my return aside, I got to work. After a bit of confusion and a wrong number which led to a long message on some random person’s voicemail, I was finally able to rendezvous with Bridget - a fine welcoming party in her own right, as well as my buddy Chris’s girlfriend - who graciously whisked me to Glover Park and to my new home for the week, their couch.

America the Beautiful

My initial reaction upon returning to DC was one of pure fascination, it being the first place I’d visited in 5 months of traveling where I’d actually been before (discounting Seattle which I barely remember), and a place I’d lived for two years no less. But it was different now – not actually concretely different, it just felt different through new eyes. Things that bugged me before now astounded me: why doesn’t anyone smile on the buses? Why are wait staff so rude (discounting Cassandra at Café Citron who became the love of my life after jumping over the bar to chase down some delinquent on their tab and then, after bragging to us about her accomplishment, bought us a shot to celebrate her final being canceled)? And, why does almost everyone seem to drive an SUV when they only drive 12 miles at a time through stop and go traffic?

This said, there are also many good things about DC. It’s a truly spectacular city in the spring with tulips, cherry blossoms and bright green leaves soaking in their first rays of sun. I was also reminded of the extent to which DC truly is an international city, with residents and visitors from all over the globe. The streets and bars are packed with young activists trying to change the world and practice what they preach, and then there are the crabs. Oh, the crabs. These were the things that got me to half consider my friends requests for me to return to DC for good.

Springtime in Glover Park

After running around for five months meeting excited travelers and interesting locals, I continued to long for new stories of adventures, forgetting that the real world to which I will shortly return isn’t always quite as interesting. The first thing I asked Bridget after jumping in her car was whether or not she was still at the same job which was answered with a resounding, “AJ, you’ve only been gone six months!”. I keep asking people what’s happened in my absence and the question was almost always answered with a long blank stare. After a little coaxing and persistence I’d usually get something out like a trip to Hawaii, the new kickball team, a promotion or a new pair of shoes, but generally it appeared to be the same old same old in the District. At first this started to depress me, as I continued to contemplate my reemergence into the real world, but then I began to take comfort in it. I quickly found myself back in some of the old roles with old friends and old coworkers. I was back, even if for only a week, and there’s comfort in fitting in, in your place, and being surrounded by the familiar, by those things that just don’t change despite how much you might want them to. For months on the road I longed for this place, but now, faced with it, the idea has become bittersweet. Though, I know I will eventually find it again in a new place – a new place to call home.

The Local Hang

OK, enough of the melodrama and cliched writing already. To be consistent with previous postings I should probably go ahead and give you an idea of what I actually did for a full on week in DC. Surprisingly little of interest it turns out. I frequented my favorite coffee shop (where I sit as I type this), visited a couple familiar bars, sat by Andrew’s pool to recharge my fading tan, walked the mall, saw the Constitution, participated in a crab BBQ, met with the old bosses to talk about part-time work to restock the coffers, crashed the company happy hour, worked on my resume, continued sorting through the pictures from my adventures and saw a ton of old friends while simultaneously making some new ones. There were also a couple attempts at dancing (all failed) thrown in there, an attempt at bike repair (mostly successful) and a 2am falafel run (an unrivaled success).

Andrew, Chris and Bridget Prepare for the Feast


The Massacre of the Innocents... and the Delicious


Take My Wife Please!

So that’s DC in a nutshell, or at least my version of it. Next stop the big apple the last (planned) stop on my epic, if I do say so myself, adventure.

Pacific Northwest in a Hurry

24 hours in Portland

From San Francisco I would embark on what, ultimately, would be the longest train journey of my travels. It turns out San Francisco is around the middle of California while Portland is in very northern Oregon – who knew? What lies in between? Northern California and the rest of Oregon allegedly, though I couldn’t tell you about them apart from witnessing some beautiful mountain scenery and a lot of pine trees from the moving train.

Beautiful Pacific Northwest from the Train

At the station in San Francisco I befriended an older gentleman from Korea after an exchange of smiles. This was his third time visiting his brother in San Francisco and he’d done some traveling around the states of the packed tour bus variety, but this was his first time venturing out on his own for a trip to Seattle and he was a bit nervous. I shared stories of my travels and helped assure him he was in the right place, helped him find his seat on the train and settle down, even moving seats to be closer to him at his urging. It really wasn’t much effort on my part, but through my travels I’d realized that a little kindness can go a long way. In gratitude the Korean man bought me breakfast (though I wasn’t hungry) and kept bringing me coffee without me offering throughout the trip before I jumped off in Portland.

I arrived in Portland in the evening, dropped my bag at the hostel and set off to see the city. I stopped by the famous Powell’s bookstore – a three story complex of new and used books, travel accessories and a small café. The place was brimming with character and after browsing the extensive racks I was sad to not have room in my bag for a pile of new reading material. Feeling a bit peckish, I then wander to an area I was told had some night life and found a promising Irish pub with live music and delicious Shepard’s pie, which at $10 a serving didn’t quite feel like modest worker’s food, but was delicious none the less.

Portland Park Picnics

On my way back to the hostel I wandered the empty streets (it being a Tuesday night) and found Portland to be a bit of a strange segmented place. The area I was in was brimming with strip clubs and bars, then I’d cross the street and suddenly be distinctly in China town. A few blocks later, through seemingly empty buildings and bland storefronts, the trendy artsy neighborhood begins. This is not too uncommon for an American city, but it amazed me the contrast between the sections with a clear line or dull nothingness in between – there seemed to be no blending of the neighborhoods. After wandering a bit in the ritzy, artsy neighborhood I stumbled across a place which stood out remarkably – the “Low Brow Lounge” and stepped in for a beer. Like the bookstore, the place had remarkable character and a pleasant mix of young people making up its few tables. I sat at the bar and started talking to the bartender about Portland. He told me about the ample music scene, the rapid expansion and growth and lamented the loss of his “old small town Portland”. His worries supported my observations - that Portland’s a small town struggling with its identity and loosing some of its old charm through a rapid expansion. That’s what popularity gets you, I guess. The next day, walking around the city center, down the river and through one of its many parks, my opinion solidified. Maybe my expectations were too high, or my visit was too short, but I couldn’t help but feel disappointed by this city which I’d heard so much about.

Portland Park

In my wanderings though, I observed one of the quaintest and oddest things I’ve seen yet. I rounded a corner downtown to see a small crowd gathering around a tent in a nearby park. I stopped in and looked over the peoples’ shoulders to see what was going on. It was then that I noticed some oh so stereotypically beautiful women – complete with permanent smiles which looked like they’d been ironed on – decked out in sequined red tops and tight black pants. “Interesting”, I thought to myself. With further observation I picked out some older gentleman about 7 feet tall freely giving out autographs to a crowd of people clad in Trailblazers jerseys. “Fascinating”. Curiosity took over and I tapped a middle aged man next to me in a suit and inquired about what was going on. “It’s the 30th anniversary of when the Trailblazers won the NBA championship”, he told me matter-of-factly. This took me aback. 30 years ago and they’re still celebrating! That’s a town desperate for a party.

Seattle Revisited

Along with Australia, Seattle is a place I’ve been fascinated by since youth, but unlike Australia, I’d already been there. I accompanied my father on a trip when I was nine and about all I can remember involved eating gigantic Sundays while revolving around the top of the Space Needle, visiting the Boeing factory which, along with my infatuation with Legos probably led to my eventual studying of engineering, and buying a chain saw carved totem pole from a local alcoholic artist who carved the wings of the eagle for us while we sat by and watched (though we have no proof, I’m sure he was probably drunk at the time and yielding a chain saw – bad combo). There’s also a picture that survived of me brimming proudly holding aloft a fish which I had caught, so I must have also gone fishing. Anyway, I returned with a love of all things Seattle (which probably contributed to my grunge rock and flannel shirt phase in high school) and a Mariners hat despite the fact that I didn’t much care for baseball. A decade and a half later I was ready to see the city again and see if it met the expectations set by my youth, and in this case, I’m happy to report that it did. As far as American cities go the place seems laid back while still holding some character as a working town. There isn’t a hell of a lot to do, but you get the sense that the residents like it that way.

Seattle Ships

My friend Mike, whom I hadn’t seen since my 5th year high school reunion, picked me up at the train station. Mike had returned after serving in the Army in Iraq and Afghanistan and it was fascinating to hear first hand accounts from someone who’s been there, especially after it becoming increasingly remote in my conscience for last solid 5 months. Mike went from active battle grounds where bullets whizzed around his head to a PR firm in downtown Seattle caulk full of beautiful woman. I asked if that took some adjustment and he countered without missing a beat, “oh yeah”, he said. It was interesting to hear his accounts of readjusting to civilian life in America as I’d started a transition of my own.

The One and Only... The Original

Seattle was great. In my two nights I frequented brew pubs with Mike, had a martini in an old morgue, drank lots of coffee, ate fish at the famous public market, took the hilarious and fascinating “underground tour” of the city they built Seattle on top of, went to a Mariners game which they lost and ate a crumpet. I spent the majority of a day walking around the city going to touristy places like the space needle, the Sci-Fi museum and the science museum, and after standing outside rubbing my chin for about 5 minutes I decided none of them were worth the admission price and moved on. I found the city ripe with diversity, colorful neighborhoods and the feel of a real working town. I was sad to leave after such a short visit but the northern wilds of Canada beckoned.

Spring at the Space Needle


Underground Seattle

Vancouver, eh?

Yeah, yeah Vancouver – a place I’ve heard great things about with its access to the mountains, to the outward islands and with thriving liberal politics and real communities. The city lived up to all the expectations, a beautiful city (when the weather cooperates) with really friendly people. It was interesting to follow a week back in the states with a trip to Canada, were everything’s virtually the same except people have funny accents and the Queen’s still on all the currency (the currency also sports a loon, beavers, hockey players and a Caribou).

Vancouver High Rent District


Kits Pool

In Vancouver I stayed with my buddy Steve whom I’d met way back on my trek in Laos. On first arriving he lent me his bike and I rode around the water’s edge with great views of the city and eventually turned onto the bay where I watched the sun set over the ocean and the many tankers moored in the harbor. The next day Steve and I took a ferry to a nearby island with two bikes and rode around the small community going to a Buddhist retreat with a 1,000 year old tree and climbing a nearby mountain with breathtaking views of the surrounding islands and snow capped mountains which endlessly stretch out from Vancouver’s borders. My last night, Steve took me to a world music concert organized by his friend and part of a performance series called “In the house” so called because they all take place inside people’s living rooms. We sat with the other 20 or so people and listened as the group played away on Indian flutes, an Erhu, Marimba and the Tabla.

BC Ferry


Meditating on Age and Growth

For now, I’ve left the world of the unknown and the foreign, and have returned to my old home of Washington, DC to see what a familiar place looks like through new eyes. Over the next two weeks I plan to catch up with friends and begin to piece together the next stage of my life as I slowly make my way up the coast, through New York City and back to NH.

Sunset Over the Pacific

The San Francisco Treat

Apparently there is a group of people out there advocating San Francisco as the “best city in the world”. I haven’t actually met any of these people, and am not sure if they’re residents or visitors, but you know, they might have a point.

Sailboats on the Bay

There’s just something so damn amenable about the place. I imagine it has something to do with the friendly residents that chat with you on the buses, the breathtaking harbor views, the proximity to nature, the world’s “crookedest” street (for the record, I believe the San Francisco city council invented this word just to win this nonexistant title, which in my mind should disqualify them from any record; though, I must admit Lombard Street is very nice indeed) or possibly the amazing level of diversity which gives San Fran such a worldly feel. I’ll tell you what it’s not though, the weather – the city just can’t make up its mind. Windy? Cloudy? Rainy? Sunny? How about all at the same time? When you’re in the sun and sheltered from the wind you’re in a T-shirt and 30 meters (sorry 100 ft) away when you’re in the shade and exposed to the wind you’re wearing two jackets just to save from hypothermia.

Palace of Fine Arts

Regardless of the finicky weather, there’s a lot to keep a visitor or resident alike busy in San Francisco. For instance you could; check out the few remaining burnt out hippies in Haight Ashbury and grab a Starbucks coffee and do some shopping at Armani while you’re out there; visit the former residence of Al Capone and enjoy splendid harbor views and Midwestern tourists on Alcatraz; watch the sea lions fight and frolic on Pier 39; bike across the golden gate bridge and explore the wild headlands just a couple Ks from the city and then grab an ice cream cone in quiet seaside Sausalito before grabbing the ferry back to the Pier; alternatively, share a pitcher of PBR with hipsters at a biker bar in the Mission; or, finally take the ultimate travel picture – a picture of you in front of Danny Tanner’s house.

Alcatraz, The Bridge and the City from the Headlands


Welcome to the Rock

So San Francisco’s good. I was surprisingly surprised most by the two most idyllic symbols of the city: the Golden Gate bridge and Alcatraz. I always figured these were overrated (like the Hoover dam) but came to find that in fact I was prematurely underrating them. Though it’s over a mile away, Alcatraz really dominates the harbor view with the light tower, huge jailhouse and ruins of old residents for the island’s guards and workers. The Alcatraz audio tour is also wonderful with descriptions of life on the island (and escape attempts) told by old convicts and guards, and taking a walk out side you get great views of the city as well as the thousands of crazed seabirds which now inhabit the island. One tip if you go: Get the early morning tour and get some privacy before the jailhouse gets crowded and claustrophobic mid-morning. The other thing is the Golden Gate bridge which is phenomenal. It’s remarkably impressive in real life as it stands out in the skyline and is really, really long. The bright red paint also marks a great entrance into the harbor. I always thought a bridge to be a strange icon for a city, but now I understand and think it works.

Alcatraz Gulls


Damn, Now That There's a Good Lookin' Bridge, You Reckon?

In the city I was staying with this guy Chris whom I met through a social networking site called couchsurfing which was setup for travelers looking for a place to crash. Chris was a wonderful host and immediately showed me around his sweet one bedroom in Marina, threw me a set of keys and said, “enjoy”. I even met some fellow “couchsurfers”, had the place to myself while he went home for the weekend and borrowed his bike for a trip over the bridge and into the headlands. Although I wouldn’t expect all hosts to be as gracious and trusting as Chris, I would definitely couchsurf again and recommend it to anyone as a way to meet locals (and get a free place to crash).

I also got to see some old friends in the city whom eagerly showed me the different neighborhoods and watering holes. This included Neil my old roommate from high school and my friend Kiran from college who was kind enough to receive a package from my folks. This package contained my laptop, iPod and a present from the Easter bunny whom was kind to me this year. Sadly, the package did not contain the key item – my drivers license, which appears to have gone to wherever it is that lost licenses go these days. This cut short my plan of renting a car for the long haul north, but at least I’m reconnected to the technological world and thoroughly enjoying access to my music for the first time in 5 months.

It’s also been very interesting to return to the US after 5 months abroad. The first day I just marveled as I overheard people’s American chatter in this busy city. People like to talk frantically about money, relationships and work with an intensity I’m not used to. I’m also not used to hearing “like” used as every fifth word and must admit I’m slipping back into this bad habit myself. People look at me a bit strange when I say "cheers" instead of thank you or "no worries". In general I’ve begun to realize the truth of the foreigners stereotype of how loud Americans are and how tacky American tourism is. Ah American tourist, I can’t say I’ve missed you. Walking down the constantly packed Pier 39, I was amazed to see large masses of tourists virtually yelling at each other and almost everyone wearing a garment from, presumably, their last stop: Yosemite; Las Vegas; Los Angeles; The corn palace – you name it, they have sweatshirts for it. There are other things to adjust to like paying tax over the stated price and tipping which is slowly coming back. There are also good things like pizza. I almost snapped my neck in excitement when I caught my first whiff of Pizza shortly after getting off the BART from the Airport. Mmmmm.... Pizza....

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San Fran Sunset