Ah, California...My Temptress and Muse...
Seven years ago, my husband and I boarded a flight bound for California, and my life forever changed. I had applied to a doctoral program in San Francisco (USF—Go Dons!!), and while I had never been to San Francisco (or California, for that matter), I decided that if I got in, I’d go visit. I did, and we did, and bam: I fell in love. Hard. For the next three and a half years, I traveled every other weekend, making the trek from New Hampshire to California (yes, crazy. I like to think of this time in my life as illustrating how my dreams have no bounds…oh yes, I can rationalize just about anything). While I didn’t get to explore as much as I would have liked on those weekend trips, I did spend six weeks each summer in the city. Once my classes and homework were done, I’d spend evenings and weekends exploring—by foot, by Muni, by ferry, by Uber.
I spent much of those 3.5 years running on fumes and exhausted beyond belief. My body hated me, and my immune system seemed to be revolting with each bicoastal “commute.” I did my homework on the flights out and graded my students’ papers on the flights home. I watched The West Wing (BEST. SHOW. EVER.) for the second, third, fourth, fifth times through. I popped the tray table down, pulled my hoodie strings taut, folded my arms on the table, and slept. My “jet-setting” life was certainly not glamorous. Yet, as the taxi or the Uber made its way from SFO or OAK toward the city, I took it all in. As I walked the mile from my hotel, The Metro—(truly, my home away from home), each Saturday to and from classes, New Hampshire and my life there seemed miles away—3,138, to be exact.
In December 2015, I returned home to New Hampshire having completed my degree; while I was filled with pride, sadness quickly kicked in: for the first time in nearly four years, I had a flight home with no future flight booked.
By mid-March 2019, I was longing to return to San Francisco. I hadn’t been back for more than a day’s visit since graduation, and I missed it desperately. I had had enough of winter (if I’m being honest, I’m usually done with winter by December 26), and my fingers were crossed for good weather and a more temperate climate. Such was not the case, as it rained the entire time. But, no matter. I piled on the Gore-Tex and braved the steady rain, knowing that SF weather can be rather fickle. Each day, I bundled up, packed extra layers, strapped on my backpack and rain cover, loaded the Fuji X100F and X-T20, a few lenses, and headed out. I’d have a few days solo in the city before meeting my husband, who would be flying in later that week. We’d then meander down the coast to LA, where he needed to be at a conference a few days later.
During that rainy week, I managed to hit a few sights I hadn’t—Fort Point and Alcatraz—as well as return to a few favorites—Muir Woods, Lands End, the Ferry Building, and, of course, the Golden Gate Bridge. I visited campus, reunited with friends, and soaked it all in…literally, at times. My days included the same routines has had so many weekends: a left out of the Metro Hotel, a block up and over to my first stop at Faletti Foods for a glorious morning bun, then next door for a coffee at Peet’s. Damn, how I miss both! After fueling, it was time to explore. Always, to explore.