California, part 1: Telegraph Hill

 

 

 

When you visit San Francisco, they tell you to walk up the stairs on Telegraph Hill. There is a reason for that: these stairs are kind of a little bit magical. You climb up and up and up, peaking into people's gardens and surrounded by green, and then you turn around and get a spectacular view of the San Francisco Bay. When I lived in San Francisco the year after college, whenever I got sad about missing the East Coast, I would climb Telegraph Hill and remember how lucky I was to live in such an beautiful place. Of course I would start my California trip here: it reminds me of all of my favorite things about my time out west.

Maybe this will help me sleep.

It's one-thirty in the morning and I can't sleep,

so here are some pictures I took my last week in California.

As it turns out, it's little things I miss.

{San Francisco has the best burritos.}

{Please pardon my chipped nail polish. It isn't chipped any more, I promise!}

{In San Francisco, they stamp the names of streets into the sidewalks}

{Lots of people hate MUNI. I'm not one of them. They returned my wallet once, plus, look at their cool logo!}

{Goodbye California!}

It should be noted that as much as I miss San Francisco (and boy oh boy, do I), I could not be more content in my decision to return to the East Coast. This side of the country is home, and it just feels so right to be here.

Back in Massachusetts

I have a long post coming about saying goodbye to California (two oceans in twelve hours! many delicious California foods! friends!), but I'm not really interested in that right now.
This week, I've spent a lot of time sitting at home, going to summer camp with the same child I hung out with last summer, and eating poached eggs.
I hope next week is more productive.

And Boston It Is

I'm moving back. On Wednesday, I fly to California, spend two and a half days packing up my stuff, and then move back here to seek out real employment. I'm super-excited to be back on the right coast again, although I will miss California muchly.

In other news, how to swim like an Otter, courtesy of our Fourth of July camping trip.

How to Swim Like An Otter from Abbiebabble on Vimeo.

Boston on my mind

It's been a month. Sorry 'bout that. I kept coming across things that I wanted to blog about, but then life kept getting in the way. Now I'm back at my neighborhood cafe, thinking about job applications, and finally blogging again.

Over the weekend, I attended Lisa and Charlie's wedding. It was a gorgeous affair, and SO much fun. Now I think all of my friends should get married and have lovely lovely weddings and invite me. The wedding kind of freaked me out, though. Not in the way that I thought it would: this was the first wedding I've ever been to where it's my friends getting married, not someone's parents or an aunt or uncle, and I was fairly certain that the thought of all of us growing up was going to give me at least one adulthood-induced panic attack. Instead, the wedding made me reevaluate (yet AGAIN) where I want to live next year. Almost all of the Dartmouth people at the wedding either live in Boston or have lived there at some point. I spent a lot of time talking about my hometown, and at the reception, singing Sweet Caroline and Charlie on the MTA. The whole thing made me incredibly homesick.

On the way back to San Francisco, I had to change planes in Atlanta. As we were boarding, an airline employee came running over to watch everyone get on the plane. "I wish I were going with you," he said, "back to the Bay." He helped a woman in a wheelchair down the jetway. "Just because we're colored, you and I, doesn't mean we aren't from the Bay. I'll do anything for people from the Bay."

I understood exactly how he felt. I was boarding a plane for the wrong city. San Francisco is a wonderful and amazing place, but it's not home. I've made some really wonderful friends this year, but they're not my family. I'm not sure that I'm done with San Francisco yet, but I'm not sure that I'm not, either. I spend an awful lot of time missing people who live on the other side of the country, missing my favorite cafes, missing home. Today I freaked out because San Francisco summer weather is all wrong to me. Does that mean, though, that it's time to go home, or does it mean that I need to calm down and learn to appreciate the things that make this city so great? Even if that means learning to appreciate cold and foggy summers?

Dilemma

If I move back east next year, I will be on the east coast, near my friends and family, and possibly near all the interesting jobs.
If I stay in California, I get to keep in touch with my San Francisco friends more easily, enjoy better weather, and continue the California adventure.
Right now, I'm feeling pulled to New York. Is that dumb?

Zzzzzzz

Today on the train into work, I sat in the middle of a row of four seats. Two stops before I got off, I looked to my left and right, only to realize that every single other person in my row was asleep. ASLEEP! On MUNI!
That's weird, right? This city is strange. Very strange.

WOAH

It's been a while.
I went home. It snowed.
I came back to California. It was in the 60s all week.
On Sunday, I walked to the beach. Then I took off my shoes and walked three miles up the beach, dipping my bare toesies in the pacific ocean.
Sometimes, I love living in California.

You Know You Wish I Were Your Roommate

You have no idea how much effort went in to making this photo perfect.

Two days ago I had one of those days that required the massive, mindless consumption of concentrated carbohydrates.
I've had a lot of doubts in the past month about my ability to do my job. Two days ago, I started to question that even more, when I proved to struggle with the one part of my job I know that I am good at.
Walking onto the bus, I reached into my bag to pull out my wallet. It wasn't there. I had stupidly left my purse out in a less-than-safe location, and so, not surprisingly, the more valuable contents was gone when I came back to it.
I dealt with all the things that needed to be dealt with (to be fair, my mother dealt with many of the things that needed to be dealt with), and then I went on my way, only to realize when I got home that I wasn't really all that upset. Yes, things could certainly be better, but my coworkers were wonderfully helpful and nice, I could get home (and I had a home to go to! I'm not homeless anymore! I am STILL grateful for that), and well, things were okay.
Do I wish I felt good at my job and that I still had my wallet? Hell, yes.
Do I think I'll figure this all out, and be okay? Hell, yes.

Update

I realize that I didn't write a follow-up to either of my two last posts, both of which require updates.
First of all, my new roommate has convinced me that sex addiction is, in fact, a real thing. After listening to Loveline with her for a couple of nights, I'm inclined to agree. (P.S. Am I the only American in who managed to go through high school and college in the past fifteen years without ever having listened to Loveline? I mean, I was certainly aware of its existence, since Dr. Drew wrote an advice column in my favorite teen magazine, but I never listened to it before moving into this apartment.)
More seriously, though, I'm starting to find a life for myself in San Francisco. I have a home (complete with bunnies!), I have a grocery store (two, if you count the produce market where I buy the vast majority of my groceries, as well as the standard big-box grocery store, where I buy my cereal and my milk, and my cheez-its when I desire them), I have a place to go for a run and a place to do my laundry. I am exploring a different neighborhood each weekend, and finding at least one lovely sight or delicious taste in each.

My friends are exactly what I'd hoped for when planning a cross-country move. They are fun, and supportive, and have all been just wonderful in helping me learn San Francisco.
I'm still figuring out what my life will be, but all in all, I think that this time in San Francisco will be pretty okay.

Sometimes

Here is what I wrote two days ago:
Sometimes I think that moving across the country, breaking up with your boyfriend, and starting a new job are too many things to be doing all at the same time.
Most of the time, though, I think that those things are all okay, though certainly hard, and that the real trouble comes when you don't know where to live.
I've always suspected that I am not the couch-surfing type. I hate feeling like I'm imposing. I hate not knowing where I'll be in a week. I hate depending on my friends, and not knowing exactly how they feel about having me around. Melissa and Sinny are being amazing; both of them have welcomed me into their homes with open arms.

Here is how I feel now:
At least I have a place to live!
This is really great. My new roommate seems really nice, the apartment is really cute, and there's a grocery store only a block away.
Everything else is still kind of scary and overwhelming. How do you meet people in a new city? How do you make new friends?
At least I'm not homeless anymore, though.

I may be homeless, but at least I'm homeless for a reason

Note: I wrote this on the plane from Boston to San Francisco yesterday. Now I'm here, crashing on my amazing friend Sinny's couch, looking for a place to live. Good times all around.

By the time my sizeable* readership lays eyes on this blog post, I will have landed in San Francisco.
Can I just take a moment to realize that this is the first time I have opened Microsoft Word since I graduated from college, since I wrote that unfortunate paper on the mating habits of songbirds in the course of eighteen hours?
Anyway, I guess I’ve talked a little bit about moving to San Francisco here, but I’ve never really gone into why, exactly, I thought it would be a good idea to pack up and move halfway across the country, leaving my family, boyfriend, and all familiar territory behind.
Ooh! There was just a call for a doctor on board and there were THREE! Luckily, all that happened was a flight attendant got a minor puncture wound. I saw it because, even though I’m not a doctor, I was sitting near two of them. I love being in the middle of all the excitement.
But anyway, as scary as moving across the country can be, and trust me, not knowing where I’m going to live or who I’ll be friends with**, I don’t really feel like I have a choice. I need to do this, to prove to myself that I can. I spend a lot of my life thinking about child development, and what is and isn’t appropriate. Learning to take care of myself far away from anything I know feels like a developmentally appropriate step in becoming the grownup I’m supposed to be. I’m terrified, but I’m also really excited. San Francisco is going to be my practice city. It’s completely new to me, and I’m going to get to figure it out on my own.
Postscript: I had In n’ Out as soon as we landed, and DAMN, the fast food is good in California.

* The thesaurus also suggested as synonyms for “large” the following: titanic, elephantine, mountainous, and economy-sized. While my readership (of approximately ten people) might be huge, it is not quite economy-sized.
**To be fair, I DO have friends in San Francisco. Wonderful, amazing friends who are letting me stay with them while I find an apartment.

I am not a food blogger

Just clarifying. I don't enjoy cooking enough to have a whole blog about it. Also, I kind of don't know anything about cooking. And also, I like the kitchen to be clean. Don't chefs have to be willing to cover their homes in flour or something?
Nonetheless, grilled peaches are delicious.

I really like them, especially with ice cream.

I also like them in my backyard.

Actually, for that matter, I'm rather a fan of my backyard.

I think I will miss it when I move to San Francisco.
But I'm still excited to move to San Francisco.

Would Blog, But Must Find Housing First

Do you know how hard it is to find a reasonably affordable place to live in San Francisco?
The answer is very difficult.
Especially when you're not in San Francisco currently.