One of my most feared days came. 24th of December, one of the days you're supposed to be with your family or close friends, to gather around the fireplace and wait for the midnight.
That day I checked out from the hostel and I decided to not sleep and simply stay at the airport and wait for the plane to depart at 7:00 am of the 25th.
I wasn't in the mood of planning and see a lot of things. I had some gifts left to make and I tried to enjoy the sunlight as much as possible by walking near the sea. I felt like a vampire walking in the night afraid that the sun will rise and he will have to hide again. Seriously Gab?
At 4:30 pm the sun was off. I was walking back to grab the stuff I stored in the hostel when I see a place called Cinecitta'
Cinecitta' is a movie studio in Rome, and I guess the neighbourhood took its name. I used to live there for a while. The place seemed authentic, they claimed they had Roman style pizza (which is a paper-thin crust variety we eat in central Italy). I stopped by a little bit hesitant at first, but I finally decided to get in. I had an interesting dialogue with the waitress.
"What are the service hours today?"
"What?", said the waitress
"Are you Italian?"
"Yes"
"A che ora siete aperti oggi?" (the Italian for "Till what time are you open today?"
"Fino alle otto se c'e gente, altrimenti fino alle 9" ("Till 8 if there are clients, otherwise till 9")
"Ok, allora torno dopo" ("Ok, I'll be back later")
"Te prego non veni tardii" ("Please don't come laate"), She cried, in Roman dialect.
I was back there at around 7, I had a pizza "Capricciosa" and "Nastro Azzurro" beer, like we use to do in Rome. I can't say that the pizza was just like in Rome, but I had fun and it filled me pretty well.
The place was almost empty and I talked to the waitress. Her name was Deborah, she was living in San Francisco since 4 months even if this wasn't her first experience abroad. She was a really genuine person, the typical, simple girl from Rome.
And there's a detail I remember:
"Caffe?"
I really appreciated the conversation with this person. It took me back in time with all the good things and memories. It was a nice and warm Christmas Eve after all.
After dinner I went to the airport, where I spent the following 11 hours, blogging, reading and talking to my friends. Internet really bring us together even when we're apart, you can't deny that.
Day 10: Dec 25th
I arrived at Seattle at 10:00. A nice, sunny day. But the city was desert.
I went to the hostel to check in, I sat down and wait for my friends to wake up and join me. Everything in Christmas day is closed, except a few places. We didn't have much choice but to go and have breakfast in a small diner place. Food was approximately disgusting (in my opinion) for my taste, but this didn't matter. The pictures on the walls were on sale.
Now, go and buy this fish for 60 bucks, come on.
We enjoyed the rest of the day walking in the Sun. Soon enough we figured that on Christmas day you kinda have to go for a movie. Forget coffee, Starbucks was too full to actually get in.
While waiting for the show we played poker on a side table with 2.50$ total change. We argued that what we were doing was probably illegal. It was like betting.
It was nice spending Christmas with close friends, I guess it's all that matters.
I didn't experience Seattle life, but I must admit the city surprised me for its sceneries, and general layout. Not really for the golden pigs and the chewing gum wall.
That day I went biking with those two guys I met the previous night. Before doing that, we decided to admire the sunrise from a tower, Telegraph Hill.
We woke up at 6 am and at 7 am (the sunrise was at 7:22 am) we reached the tower. It was closed, under renovation. N. and me decided to give it a shot anyway and we sneak in through the fence into the courtyard, like a boss.
There were a few machines and some workers, we walked around like if we didn't know what we were doing. We saw that the tower was closed and well "guarded," so we decided to check the perimeter for a decent view. Soon enough one of the workers said (direct quote), "Ehy guys, I don't give a shit that you're there. But if a supervisor comes he will ask you to leave, anyway tower's closed."
"Oh.. Sure," we said to him, and since there wasn't a good spot anyway we sneak out on the street again.
It was pretty hard yo find a good spot outside the tower, the view was obstructed by trees and houses. Many houses had pretty nice views, the people who live there wake up and see something like that:
Now, if you were paying attention, you should be wondering how do I know that they see something like that.
"I've got an idea"—I said to N.—"But I think that's a little bit dangerous, plus there's people sleeping there."
N. went first, he silently climbed the (very low) roof, and carefully headed in the middle. After taking some shots to the sunrise he went back.
"There's someone sleeping... be silent." He added when coming back.
My turn. I went up and did the same, but I also took a picture pointing in the other direction.
After breakfast, we went on to rent the bikes. It was 21 dollars per-day. The bikes looked fine—I repeat, looked.
After riding for an hour or so, something happens to one of the bros, "Shit.. I've got a flat tire!"
He was pretty calm and called the renting company that suggested a repair in a close bike shop. We walked there (like a mile) and parked our bikes. It was a huge sport shop, with a bike repair area.
That trip turned out really useful. During the previous days I repeatedly failed to find a specific item to buy as a gift. One of those gifts that you planned in advance, and if you can't find you have to think about something else that would ultimately turn out inferior. If I didn't went with the guys, and H. didn't break his tire, I most likely wouldn't have find the item I was looking for. It was fun how a series of random events turned out positively. You can call it luck or destiny. Believe your destiny.
We biked till Sausalito, a place which is just as cool and as small as the name implies. There I got the best hamburger I've ever had. Perhaps the fact that I was hungry like a pterodactyl contributed to make it tastier.
This was a view from one of the parking lots in Sausalito.
Which is quite impressive compared to the view I see from my parking lot.
Because I don't have a parking lot.
N. left and took the ferry, while me and H. biked, biked and biked again to the Golden Gate National Park. Which is a park with all sorts of museums. The ride back was intense cause San Francisco is pretty damn hilly.
Back at the hostel I collapsed. I was done for the day.
The bike ride was a nice experience, and that day was the only one that I joined someone. It was less adventurous than the previous days, there were more vistas though. But you know, I don't care about vistas, right?
I wanted to bike that day, but I woke up pretty tired and wanting to just chill out. So I picked up my guide and checked out what's next.
I saw that there is this Pacific Heights neighbourhood which is full of vistas, and Japantown, close to that. Since I sometime dig Japanese stuff, I thought that would be interesting. Packed my bag, I started walking towards the Sun.
But first, I wanted to chill out in a Starbucks, as usual.
On Google Maps I see that there's a pretty decent Starbucks in the neighbourhood I wanted to visit, it took me something like 30 minutes to get there, up and down, in the hilly San Francisco.
Arrived to the coffee shop, I saw a familiar face.
"What are you doing here?"
"Yesterday night, after the Olympics, we went to a club in Mission Street. I ended up with a girl that lives in this neighbourhood, do you know how to get back to the hostel?"
"Oh, that's cool dude! Well, that street is Broadway, just walk forever to the left and you'll be back to the hostel."
He was one of the guys in Team D (need memory refresh?). You know, what was the probability to meet the guy that slept with a girl in a neighbourhood and he decided to go exactly in that Starbucks? Life never stop to surprise me.
Anyway, I didn't want to talk to the guy so I fell back to frozen yogurt, and a pretty amazing one. Like, good shit.
Yeah, I know what you're thinking, shit flavour.
I spent the rest of the morning wandering around the neighbourhood, it was pretty quiet. It reminded me walking in Vancouver on a sunny day, except for the fact that since this neighbourhood is pretty elevated, every crossroad was a vista. Everyone was chilling over there.
Japantown is a very small neighbourhood, there's a big mall with all the Japanese products, and a shit-ton of restaurants. Too bad I was there at 3:00 pm, I really wanted to eat some decent ramen.
I bought a ramen t-shirt, and kept walking up to a nice staircase I saw on my guide. It was steep and I sweated a lot, because I didn't bring a light jacked (tip: do yourself a favour and bring with you a light jacket to San Francisco).
There was a nice vista up there, so I sat and chilled out for a while, watching all the people running up and down the stairs, six or seven times, to exercise. I wrote my journal, to relax and think about the misteries of life.
Still not satisfied with the massive amount of (uphill) walking, I returned all the way back to the hostel and collapsed on the bed for a couple of hours. Clothes on and everything (ok I took off my shoes off...) I didn't feel like moving at all.
The ramen craving was still alive, so I decided to go to this very small place, Katana-Ya. I waited about half an hour to get a spot, and I saw a family pretend they were someone else to skip the line. We do that all the time at the post office in Italy. Anyway, the ramen was awesome.
Too bad they were playing this music. Caramelldansen. Please, why?
Day 7: 22nd December
Grape Juicing
Let's make a bit of a premise. I was supposed to go with this company Incredible Adventures, full of happy young people, to do a California wine tour. Those guys called me when I was enjoying my ramen.
"Ehy dude, it's not like we're going to take you with us. Too few spots to fill our shitey van, so you either go on Christmas' Eve or we'd rather sell you to another company."
I replied:
"Alright dude, that sucks but we all know that life sucks sometime. Let's tempt my fate: sell me to the other company, no overcharge please."
"That's awesome man. All set, you go with Green Dreams tour, same time, same place. We cool?"
They came to pick me up at the hostel, I felt a like a little young lady. It was a nice and unpretentious van. I walk in, "Hi, Gabriel~." Adam, the bearded guide, said to me.
There were 8 other people over there.
8, an even number.
Which divided by 2 gives 4.
Married. Couples.
"Well, that's cool," I thought. It's not like I'm scared or uncomfortable, what the hell. But yeah I actually felt a little be awkward for a moment.
We visited 2 wineries in the morning, the trip was smooth and the guy was saying a lot of bullshit (like, interesting stuff) regarding wine and the zone. He really was knowledgeable about it.
Our first (five) samples came at 10:30 am. Yes, that thing hit my head pretty badly, the Chardonnay had this awesome smell of melon. That impressed me among other wines.
Peter Cellars winery, they also bought the original Pink Panther typeface. I mean, we should make a winery too.
The guys were extremely friendly with me, I had the impression that they felt some sort of compassion, like "What the hell is this idiot doing in this wine tasting by himself." That's cool dudes, it's just that I love wine, plain and simple.
We went to another winery and got more drunk, the taste of those wines were a little bit stronger. And they sold also this wine-chocolate syrup which I wanted to buy, if only it was allowed on the plane...
We also visited Sonoma, a small town full of shops that let you taste stuff for free (chocolate, cheese and whatever). I had enough alcohol/food in the morning and I only craved for a coffee in solitude. Delight.
We ended the trip with more wine tastings. I got to taste a German Riesling, something between syrup and tea. I bet that if you overdo it, you'll get a serious drunk-headache.
Overall, it was a nice experience. I admit I felt a little bit lonely, most of the other guests were people from a different word (or stage in life). But, I got to taste some pretty good wines, ncie and relaxed. So I'd say a +1 for me.
Dinner Crawl
The hostel organized another event for that night. The name was something on the lines of "Awesome Foursome" and consisted in switching between four restaurants, one course each. That joke costed me 16 bucks.
We gathered in front of the hostel when I hear "I ...blahblahblah.... Vancouver."
I obviously took the chance and said to the guy. "DUDE! I live in Vancouver too!"
His name was N. and he used to live in Van for a few months, but he actually lives in Waterloo. He later confessed he was drunk.
We started our crawl to get a Thai salad and noodles. Oh my God, that food was junk. For real... abysmal.
Huge mix of people, some of them were from the hostel, but for the most part they were random. I later discovered that the event was a meetup.
Seats shuffled every time, so I had the chance to talk to many different people. First I was close to Jack Sparrow, an oldish interesting lady from South Africa, a Polish girl, and a guy from Alabama. It was so interesting observing the different accents.
Then we moved to other places for... please don't make me remember that junk I ate. But I got to know this food journalist that is specialized in cultures eating insects. Which, is interesting. Rest of people were Software Engineers or close enough.
I talked again to N. and we planned a bike ride together with H, a young brazilian. Not happy enough, we also decided to stare at the sunrise the next morning. In San Francisco, during winter, the Sun rises at 7:22, by the way.
Apart from the crappy, crappy food, the dinner was a nice people-meeting event. When you're a lone traveller, you survive on this one-shot never-meet-again things. It's also a chance to hone your conversation skills as well. Believe me it's handy.
That day I felt I needed to do some healthy, streamlined tourism. Following the advice of several friends and strangers, I went to Alcatraz island to visit the most (in)famous prison in the world. Tickets usually sell out pretty quickly but I was lucky to get one. I guess it's destiny.
The environmental-friendly ferry took us to the island, it had Eolic generators, solar panels, as well as gasoline (no surprise). While waiting in line to get on the boat, a guy took a photograph of each visitor in front of a fake screen, so that you get the photo with the (fake) Alcatraz background. Gross.
The tour was interesting, there was an audio guide that presented the prison areas (it wasn't that big), and played some prisoner interviews. The actual cells were shit-holes (is that even a word?).
Imagine this for a second: you're in this prison, you have no family (or no family who cares about you). You're buried there, without a reason to live for. What are you supposed to do?
For the prisoner, the escape was the reason to wake up each morning. Doesn't matter if you succeed. I believe that a reason to live is a psychological necessity for every human being, pretty much like you need food and water. A driving force.
From the Alcatraz island there are also pretty nice (neat) views.
Fisherman's Wharf
Once back on land, I had to give a shot at this Fisherman's Wharf thing. As far as I know some Italian dudes like me settled there few years ago to make some money, and I guess they had kinda of a cool vibe all around. The name sounds like the place of a fantasy game too, don't know, like Fisherman Horizon.
Anyway, the reason to go there are souvenirs, eating some fish, and observe those motherfuckers bitching with each other making a shitey mess:
I had pretty decent street food there. My favourite part.
Beer Olympics
Ok, let me tell you something more about this hostel. In this hostel there is a culture of free stuff, for example there is a shelf with half-used bathroom products left behind by some guests. That's where I got my shampoo, for instance.
There's also a free dinner three times a week offered by the hostel, cooked by no one else than Egidio. I was alone, so I sat on a free, empty table. After a while this woman in her 50's joins me in the opposite corner of the table. She was a bit shy, but she was looking and smiling at me. After a little while I decided to start a conversation.
Usual smalltalk soup, "Where are you from?", "What are you doing here?", and only at the end, "What's your name?"—promptly forgotten. She was looking for an house there, because her family (or what it remains of that) lives in San Francisco.
"Are you an artist?", she asked. "No I'm a chemist, and I cook drugs", I said. Then I added, "Just kidding, if I really cooked drugs I wouldn't sleep in an hostel."
She later confessed that I looked like an artist, so Jesus, check. Artist, check. She was actually an artist, like drawing, painting, sculpting, and some music in the free time. And she used a lot the word neat. I like that word, neat.
After a while another guy joined us, he was a PhD student like me. We confessed each other that we looked familiar. Weird, it's impossible that we've met before. But it was nice pointing this out.
The hostel organizes also cool events for its guests. The event on Friday was... Beer Olympics. Oh yeah, it sounds like pretty darn amazing.
Locals and hostel guests gather in a bar for a drinking game competition. Four games. Teams decided at random based on nationality. 5 beers, 10 bucks. Again, neat.
I was in line next to a few Australian guys, and I decided to join them. There weren't other Italians that I knew of, by the way. There were five of us and we sat at a table. After grabbing our beers and taking a few sips, we started preparing for the game. And we did some warm up.
At 9:30 we started the actual Olympics. When we met the opposite Team, we are approached by the 6th team member. Annie, a solid 8 1/2—a gnocca, in Egidio's jargon. She was a pretty fun girl too, and we were funny guys too. Explosive.
We got in the mood, and started doing what every competitive dude does, mocking and humiliating the rival team members. In this shot Luke "Nice hair" is politely enticing the opposing team member to consume his yeast-fermented, hop-flavoured alcoholic beverage.
DRINK, DRINK, DRINK.
Our team was unstoppable, we won all 4 matches. My moment of glory was the last throw of beer pong. I took the ball, closed my eyes, kissed the ball (with the disgust of the opponent).
Deep breath and... bam. Perfect shot. The team exulted. Team D, like ducks, quack quack quack!
Everyone was drunk and we were the only team who cared about winning the Olympics, so we sort-of did a final and we kinda-lost but it doesn't matter.
Time passed and the team evaporated quickly. Annie "Eight and a half" went away—"Don't break too many hearts"—she said when leaving.
The other dudes went to another club in Mission St. I didn't feel like following them. But don't forget this detail, it will be useful in the next post.
The departure was at 12:38, I didn't want to do much in the morning so I just took my time and and went to the airport, slowly.
I ate a shitty chilli and boarded on the plane. I was worried that I couldn't take both my luggage and the backpack, but it was fine. Remember this if you're flying with United Airlines. They also checked-in my luggage for free because there wasn't enough space on board.
I slept for the most part of the (brief) flight, as with Portland I didn't do any research for San Francisco, and I didn't know what to expect. I like surprises.
The sensation when getting off the plane was remarkable, for the first time in days I saw the Sun, no mountains, just a flat surface covered in bright light. Dude... I missed you.
I felt really good walking through the airport, it reminded Rome with all the busy people and the chaos. I thought—this place feels like home.
I took the train and reached the city centre. The city was vibrating, all people around, a big, nice street tapered with tall building made of glass. This reinforced my feeling of excitement and amazement. You feel part of something by merely walking in this lively city. Again, feels like home.
I can try to describe the hostel, but I 'll use a picture and a single word: hippie
Just look at this psychedelic carpet and the old crappy piano in the middle of the room. And the dude on the left, this guy never left this spot for the rest of the day. Room was clean and nice. Spent the rest of the night with friends of a friend, and gathering information for the following days.
More on the hostel later.
Spontaneous Exploration
Day 4: 19th December
The hostel is near Chinatown and Little Italy. Upon recommendation of a friend, I screwed the free breakfast and headed out to a nice Italian coffee shop (we call them bar). And fuck the jacket, despite the fact that everyone was overdressed for the climate, it was warm outside.
I took a pretty authentic Cappuccino and Tiramisu. I meditated and did some serious people watching for about an hour. There was also the same Aprilia scooter I used to drive in Rome. Miss ya.
I head back to the hostel to finish some work and book the Seattle hostel. On the way I see an interesting police scene. There were two undercover cops immobilizing a guy in a parking lot. What the hell, it was my first time seeing this kind of police action, they put the guy face down on the ground. I just kept walking... wow.
I was about to open my laptop when I hear speaking Italian from the kitchen. "Why not?" I thought.
"Ciao", I said. "Ciao", he said. Two Italian guys were talking in the kitchen, I was the one with the shorter hair... and without dreadlocks. I talked with Egidio and Gabriele (oh yes, just like me)—from Rome as well—about Roman things, and also other things... which I can't disclose. Let's say something Vancouver is famous for.
After a while I go back to ask him a very important question, "Where can I find a Carbonara fatta bene?"
"In your home, no way you can find it here," He said. After another brief conversation he concluded, "Divertiti! C'e' un sacco di gnocca in giro, non farti fregare, non ti innamorare." Which in English means, "Have fun! There's a lot of pretty girls around, but don't fall in love!".
Financial District
I started my spontaneous exploration of San Francisco, using my phone and my feelings as a guide. I decided to explore the Financial District neighbourhood. This is the same place I ended up when got off the train. It's the neighbourhood of banks and businessman. Tall buildings and skyscrapers.
Walking in this district was a pleasure, I missed a lot the action and hectic life in Vancouver. I mean, hectic life all-year around is pretty stressful, but sometimes it's good. After a quick lunch I decided that I wanted to shop something, and I started from the Ferry Building, near the sea.
The Shopping Quest
Well, there's ton of shopping in San Francisco, it surprised me positively on this front. Ferry Building is a place full of local (expensive) products, palm trees, and a nice view. Look at that, look at the sun.
I like the the combination of the blue sky, the sun and the skyscrapers, it looks pretty cool.
Under recommendation of another friend (thanks!) I went to Ross, this place has a lot of high quality clothes left unsold for a variety of reasons. and they re-sell it for dirty cheap. For example I bought a Calvin Klein belt 15$ and some extra socks. For pants and shirts you have to either be lucky or have unusual sizes, cause the common sizes sell out pretty quickly. If you ever go to San Francisco, do yourself a favour and test your luck in this shop. It's going to be rewarding.
I also stopped by the most famous San Francisco mall, Westfield. One of the nicest mall I've ever been. Since it's developed on 8 relatively small floors, it's big but easy to navigate. Dancing break:
Alone in the Pub
It was 8:30 and I was craving for non-Chinese food. I went to the closest bar near the hostel. It was the first time for me to go alone at a bar. Well, it was weird. The closest thing to a human interaction I had that night was a flying cup of water from a woman who was plainly crazy, the guy in front of me got soaked, I just received the cup. And no, no one knew that woman.
You know, San Francisco is full of weirdos, really.
Anyway.
Egidio... I didn't really talk to any pretty woman that day, nor I got in love.
I didn't know anything about Portland, the mission for the morning was finding what to do.
I sat and turned on my laptop. My laptop is a bulky black box with an evil red-lighted keyboard. I was plugging the charger when I hear "that's dramatic."
The blonde sitting next to me broke the ice. I said, "Oh yes it is. I've never been to Portland, or to the US for that matter. Where should I go? Give me a recommendation."
She said, "I just moved here, didn't visited around a lot, but they told me that there's some hiking going on in Forest Park, I'll show you..."
The blonde showed me directions on Google Maps, and I learned from her that the streets are in alphabetical order so that I can't go wrong. Thanks blonde, you sensed right, I always get lost.
After that I spent a little time searching for other stuff to do, quickly got bored and at 10:00 am I headed out to Forest Park, deferring the planning for the afternoon. The sky was gray, Portland is gray and I felt a little bit gloomy.
Forest Park: The Angry Squirrel
I took a random hike at Forest Park, more like a forest than a park, taking my time to observe the moss-covered trees and making myself ridiculous by taking some selfies on the way. Destiny (or chance) reserved to me a nice surprise, I met a squirrel on a tree, and it looked pretty pissed. I think animals are less scared of you when you're alone, even if they're still pissed. Give yourself 30 secs to watch this video.
After the hike I arrived to a place which was supposed to have the best view of Portland, oh yeah, amazing.
The Labyrinth, I should go to a barber shop
So after this trip I finally found inspiration for the afternoon, grabbed the phone, "Where's the closest Thai?." I descended the hill on a series of streets that decidedly look like spaghetti.
I asked for directions many times and heavily used my GPS. At a certain point a man born in the 50's stopped me: "I've been living here for years, and I still get lost. You should go down there, and if you keep going, there's a barber shop on the left. Your hair is a mess."
The man was willing to waste some time so he insisted that I used his map, no matter if my device has a map, a navigator, GPS and the whole power of internet a fingertip away. I accepted his help, and pretended I was actually using the paper map, cause it was fun.
After 40 minutes I arrived at Red Onion Thai Restaurant, and that's my favourite part again.
Best Halibut ever, crispy and dry, just a little bit spicy... awesome.
The City of Books
After that I walked other 40 minutes to visit Portland Downtown, my impression was that there was no one around. Or maybe it was just cause I wondered without a real purpose. I would have liked to go to the Japanese or Chinese gardens in Portland, but I changed my mind because of the fog.
I visited this Powell's City of Books in Pearl District, the shopping area of the city (I think?). Powell's is a massive books store, made on 3 floors packed with used books. A shitload of books. I didn't even bother looking at them, there was simply too much stuff to be able to contemplate it.
The Night
"A tall light roast, please." After this trip I felt exhausted and stopped at a Starbucks close to the hostel for a coffee, cream and sugar. And that's the first coffee of this blog. I love the coffee culture in North America, sitting in a coffee shop taking your time and sipping a coffee, it's my meditation.
Back at the hostel I went in the common area to write those posts and I was literally assaulted by the other guests.
"Can I tell you something? You look like Jesus." This South Korean guy sat in front of me with a great desire to talk. He was an graduated English literature major visiting Portland for a week (to see what exactly?). We did some smalltalk and he later insisted that I look like Jesus, "Do many people tell you that you look like Jesus?"
After that I was asked by other hostel people to grab a beer. I turned them down, since I was tired and wanted to write. They were from Vancouver too, and they live in Dunbar, and take 99 B-Line to UBC. Basically neighbours. There was the blonde too, she was happy I followed her advice.
My experience of Portland was brief, it didn't impress me. Portland is a green city and the obsession with recycling and green shit is apparent. From the cloth towels at the hostel to the paper bags in the supermarkets, and recycling bin everywhere. I though the US would be much cheaper than Canada, I find that for common items the price difference is marginal. Maybe just an impression? Portlanders are nice people, not as nice as Vancouverites/Canadians though (unbeatable I guess.)
Portland gave me the feeling of a quite and small city, not much life going on. It was an interesting experience anyway, and I imagine it has much more to offer outdoors and on a sunny day.
Day 2:
17 December 2013
Chilling out in Portland.
Next destination: San Francisco
It's not like I'm writing everyday, just when I feel like there's something to say. Esp when I mess up with random people.
This is my first experience travelling alone, I know many people do that, and I always had the curiosity to try. I'm sure it will be an eye-opening and amazing experience, which unfortunately will miss a piece—the pleasure of sharing it with someone. And that's for this reason that I'm writing right now, to fill this missing spot.
This post is about the first day of my solo trip. Starting from Vancouver, BC I'm heading to Portland, OR by bus, and then fly to San Francisco, CA and back to Seattle, WA and Vancouver (bus again).
Let's start from the beginning. I woke up, kinda sweaty, I went to wash myself and pack my toothbrush, after use.
I checked that all the essential was there, put my fav t-shirt on and choose the only pair of shoes I'll carry. Alright, a pic just for reference.
My roommate left on my desk a lock, I learned how to use it, it wasn't straightforward at all. Grab the cheap jacket, keys, phone, wallet. and head out for the bank.
And that's where the first tip is (kindly suggested by the bank employee). If you travel abroad and want to use your credit card you have to call the number on the back of your card. Otherwise they block it, and you don't want that right? So do it.
Then I calmly had some sashimi lunch and head out toward the station. Early, like 1 hour early. I grab a chicken salad sandwich at Tim Hortons and board on BoltBus (second tip: take BoltBus).
BoltBus is cheap as hell, there's a power outlet on most seats and WiFi, well it's slow and clumsy but it's there, a lifesaver for such a long trip (8 hours), you can basically waste your time the same way you do it everyday, it doesn't even feel like you're travelling :)
After boarding, it took approximately one hour to get to the border. The process was painless, as I'm Italian I had to do the ESTA beforehand (and that's the third tip) and pay 16 bucks. They asked me few random questions, some more money, and a declaration of the threats I'm bringing to the us:
I declared my sandwich
We got back on the bus, and everyone was sitting in a different place, so don't bother to get a nice seat when boarding—it makes no sense.
Travelling by bus can be cozy since it's not surreal like a plane. In a plane there's the artificial light that screws you up, that dry air that makes you feel like your throat is crumbling and the very small and clumsy seats.
On the bus you can do all sorts of stuff: write, sleep, think, read and any other glorious time-wasting activity (the guy near me played Star Wars 3 hours straight—what a nerd). For that matter, this post was mostly made on the bus. And that's what I saw of Seattle.
Bus got issues tough. I think we were stuck in the only traffic jam of the whole west coast, an accident on the highway. And—hell—we were stuck there for more than 3 hours.
I mean, no big deal, even more WiFi leisure time and catching up with old friends who were willing to chat on Facebook. At 11:00 I was starting feeling really hungry, the driver was nice to stop at a service area, a substantial amount of sugar helped me survive for the rest of the trip.
After a few hours we finally arrived at destination, it was something like 1:00 am. The first impression I had of Portland was of a really clean city, Christmas lights made me feel excited about it. Arrived at the station I called a cab, painless and it's cheap like less than 6 $ (not that I had a choice at 1:00 am).
Look at all those poor people waiting for the cab, I handed my phone to a chick that had a taxi phone written on her hand, cmon get a phone dude.
Anyway, I eventually arrive at the hostel, one of the neatest hostel I've ever been to. If you go to Portland that's the hostel you have to go to http://www.nwportlandhostel.com/ (guess what? fourth tip). Apparently I wasn't the only bastard who checked in at 1:20 am. So I just relaxed while in line, got my room, went to sleep.
You know, it wasn't a bad travel day, and by being alone you can't complain with your companion about trivial things such as being late, and by not complaining it sucks so much less. I guess when you're alone you really get into a flowy state, where you just go, no matter where, or when.
Anyway.
Let the chill begin.
Day 1:
16 December 2013
Vancouver-Portland bus ride
Travel time: 11h.
