It is hard to put into words the things that haunt the traveller's mind. Going back and forth without even thinking straight and taking every possibility and opportunity with both hands, we've been bumming aroung San Fran for about a week now. It all starts with shitloads of coffee and American pancakes in the morning. Right now we are staying in a youth hostel called Amsterdam Hostel on 749 Taylor Street. It is kind of weird to see all these people hanging around with all of them different views, perspectives and ideas on travelling and things in general, I reckon. Pretty much every nationality is represented and still there is kind of a universal atmosphere that covers it all. Drinking, talking, making out, the universality of the world still baffles me every instant. America is way different from the smalltown Europe we are used to, but at the same time, it is so much alike that it tends to feel like home very quickly. We came over here with the idea of living on the road without planning anything in advance and that works out quite great, thusfar. In comparisson to what most people consider to be the real world, we kind of created our own kind of reality without having to take the world into consideration and it feels great, I can tell you that. The touristy streets of the city seem to be empty with meaningful thoughts but the suburbs burn with great ideas like a big coastal wind haunting down the more corporate parts of the city like a boss. It is confounding how big is the difference between the different areas in a city like SF. You can literally walk three blocks and find yourself in a totally different country or in a fucked up sketchy neighbourhood that will scare the living shit out of you. It's the variety of people, the divergency of people that rules the city, in a way so beat that it seems to be the most normal thing in the world whereas the corporate stock broker would piss on the bum's head if he could.
I remember this one day, we had to walk through the Tenderloin in broad daylight. Being one of the most sketchy neighbourhoods in the whole of San Francisco, you can imagine the feeling of fear and dismay controlling your every move. 6 ft tall gay body builders, crack smoking grandmas and an air filled with pot in a way that it's hard not to get passively baked, the Tenderloin is a place where no common guy like ourselves would ever feel totally safe. When we where passing it, the Swiss girls that we met earlier on wanted to go and get some tobacco and we entered a small, undersized tobacco and liquor shop. Standing there, a black person, 6 ft 2, long put up hair and wearing a skirt that just covered his junk passed me, yelling and acting really weird. Before I was well aware of what was happening I saw a fist glancing off my face while, what seemed to be his boyfriend, swung at the other "guy". I felt like a referee in a gay boxing match and was kind of relieved that his fist just missed my face as I reckoned the guy had a fair right hook. In fear and faith I can say that I can honestly admit that I hadn't been as afraid as in that specific moment right there in the San Franciscan Tenderloin.
Leaving the Tenderloin, you walk straight into the commercial center of San Francisco, which, I guess, puts into perspective what I told you earlier on. We were walking to Dolores park, up on Mission, the more arty and hipster part of San Francisco. The sun was ruling the West American sky and we got ourselves some beers and a grab to eat at Ike's place, which is known for its legendary sandwiches. I reckon it's the only place where you can drink alcohol, smoke pot and get wasted in the open. The police knows about the place and created kind of a free and liberated open space, far away from the corporate political world that seems to be ruling the United States at this point. People are openly selling weed and booze, dogs are going wild and people are dancing, playing music and doing sports. Everybody seems so at ease and happy, it's like this park creates a certain form of escapism for the restless population, inhabiting the city. We, 3 Swiss girls, an American guy called Jesse and a Russian dude called Alex, were lying there on the grass, having a drink, talking and just enjoying each other's company, sometimes, life's just really simple, you know.
Living in a hostel it's truly very normal to meet new people every day, which isn't a bad thing if you meet the right people, that is. The first night we sat outside to eat our poor meals and we asked three girls, Chanti, Ruth and Catia if we could sit at their table, since there was no other place to sit down and they seemed like some cool chicks. While travelling, every conversation starts in a shallow way. Where are you from, what are you doing here, when are you going back and all that bull. But these girls were different, before we were well aware of it we were sitting there for over two hours and found out that we have shitloads in common. At that point we were joined by Jesse and David, two guys from LA. Like real teenagers we decided to play a game called never have I ever. David proposed to make it a drinking game and that's when it all started. We drank for 4 hours straight, talked about the most personal things and it all came so naturally.That's when I discovered, Swiss girls are off the hook but so fucking awesome. The next morning we all had breakfast together and eventually spend the next four days hanging around, going places and drinking for four days straight. After what had been four amazing days, The Swiss girls left for Mamuth lakes, Jesse left for Mexico and we were still here, with the same people, in the same environment where nothing had changed. It still baffles me how attached you can get to people in that short of a time. I hate goodbyes, I can tell you that for sure, but then again, traveling is saying goodbye and moving on. Traveling is leaving. Goodbye.
Koen
