I left my heart in San Francisco

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My worst travel blues hit me before I had even gotten home. I blame it on aeroplane travel. I had spent the last 6 months traversing entirely by buses throughout South America. Every kilometre I travelled, I felt. It was tangible. But then, all of a sudden, within 7 or so hours I was on a whole different continent. And instead of the beautiful lilt of Spanish accents peppering the air, there were the thick drawls of Texans. Instead of the fluid disregard for rules and bureaucracy, there were just lines and lines of grumpy people, squabbling with overworked employees, and I could understand every painful word of it. As I sat in that plastic airport chair, waiting for my connecting flight to LA all I could think of was how much I wanted to go back! Why had I come to the US? I even started to wish that I hadn’t extended my trip so I could visit the states. If I was going to be miserable, I might as well be miserable back home. But boy was I wrong.
After a flight to LA and another to San Fran, I was greeted by the smiling face and dorky sign of Mer, one of my Dad’s oldest friends who is an ex-pat in Walnut Creek, a suburb of San Fran. We had only met maybe twice before in our lives, but it was like being among family again. And when he showed me my room I almost fainted. After months of dorms with single beds and loud copulations and drug taking and snoring and obnoxiousness from other backpackers, I was in heaven. My own room, with a double bed and cable TV. I hadn’t watched TV for six months, so it was amazing.
But landing in a place like the USA in December is quite a shock to the system after a place like South America. It’s just so westernised and commercial, especially just before Christmas time. The first time I walked into a shopping mall I stayed for about 10 seconds before turning and walking right out again. It was all too loud, obnoxious and overwhelming. And I kept accidentally putting my toilet paper in the bin instead of the bowl for days.
For the first few days I sheltered in my decadent room eating Vegemite on toast (thank god!) and watching 30 Rock on cable. I went for walks and saw squirrels! I hung out with Mer’s son Jeremy, who I was really excited to get to know after years of hearing all about him. I grappled with the BART (their public transport system) and wandered around the CBD of San Francisco. I ate at Mexican restaurant just for nostalgia’s sake. I started to see the appeal of Christmas in cold weather. When it gets dark so early and you huddle down into your big jacket and scarf, it’s so festive to see all the blinking lights and decorations and roaring fires.
After my few days of recovery I called my volunteer buddies Emma and Arpen! They were so sweet and had planned so many exciting adventures for me! They had even planned age appropriate activities so I could drink with them even thought I was 20 and legal drinking age in the US is 21! We drank rum on the street (just like Salasaca times) and went to an Art Walk in Oakley, checking out all the great work and indulging in all the free booze and nibblies. We giggled and chatted non-stop and it was just like old times. They were so gorgeous and welcoming as were all their friends, it was like being back home among my wonderful group of friends. It did wonders for my travel blues that had still been lingering. But their friend Chris took me to buy a real American hot dog from a stall on the side of the road and as I ran to the BART (we were late) with the air crisp and hot dog in hand I felt free and happy again. We spent the next three days wandering the streets of their city; they showed me their old uni at Berkeley and Haight & Ashbury and the Spanish district called the Mission where I bought my now infamous compass necklace from the pirate shop. We ate and ate and ate way too much delicious and carefully planned food. They had thought of all the things I had to try and made sure that I ate all of it. We went to a great house party with all their lovely welcoming friends (I was the token Australian) and slept cramped on the floor of their friends houses but it didn’t matter one bit. I went with them to their brand new place they were renting and it got me excited about going back home and doing the same. Emma’s lovely Dad picked us up from San Fran and drove us down to LA. We spent one night staying at Emma’s hilarious grandma’s house. She was exactly like Em had acted her out, kooky and sweet. She kept referring to me as their “little friend” and just couldn’t understand that I was from Australia. Then we stayed a night together in Orange County at her folks place. We walked to the top of a hill that overlooked the suburbs with her brother and drank gin in the kitchen, never stopping talking for one second. They left for Prague early the next morning. I had fallen asleep without realising and woke up to find them gone, I was really sad. But then I found a beautiful coral earring that Em had made me for Christmas and a lovely note and just felt happy to have got to see them again. I hung out with Emma’s lovely parents the whole next day. Her Mum took me shopping in Target and bought me a fish taco and a White Chocolate and Peppermint coffee from Starbucks. The guy said that it tasted like Christmas and he was right. That night I watched comedy shows with them and got a good night sleep. In the morning Emma’s Dad drove me to the airport. Her Mum had made me a care package for the plane complete with socks and chewing gum. I felt so lucky and touched to have met all these amazing people and that they included me so openly in their lives. It made me realise how lucky I was to have family and friends just like that back home, and also made me realise that there are fantastic, loving, welcoming people everywhere in the world. I got on my plane and may have shed a tear or two for the end of this particular adventure. But I shed even more when I saw my beautiful family and gorgeous friends waiting for me at Melbourne airport. I was home.

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