You either love it or hate it…

Ha Noi…I don’t like it. I can see why people do, but…It is much more noisy than Da Nang. It’s much more polluted than Da Nang. It has a lot more tourists, and is less personable than my central coast town. There isn’t much to do in Da Nang and that is what I like the most. I met an American woman from Colorado before coming up here and she let me know what her daily schedule was…sleep in, hang out by the pool, two days a week tutor at noon and then teach in the evenings. Um, yeah. My current fantasy is to have a morning run on the beach (or surf), write and drink coffee, tutor in the midday, teach at Gia Minh in the evenings with the cutest kids ever, have a few beers with Tien, dinner with K and start over again the next day. Is that too much to ask for the next few years? I don’t think so.

SLEEPING BUS TO HA NOI…You can move through Vietnam a number of ways. I would really like to take the train the length of the country at some point. I also would hire Easy Rider to take me around. Bus is an option, but I highly recommend taking the sleeping bus at some point. I advise though that if you are my size or any larger DO NOT let them put you in a berth where the arm rest isn’t at least an arms distance from where you stick you legs.

50 berths on the bus

It was very tight fitting for me. Also, DO NOT allow them to put you near the toilet, good heavens. I eventually was able to turn on my side, wedge my knees against the side, stick my head under my backpack and get some good sleep. The bus ride began in Da Nang with a little confusion on my part. They said “sleeping bus” and the first leg of the trip to Hue was actually on a regular bus. The seats reclined further than on an airplane. I didn’t know I would change buses. It was a beautiful ride considering that the driver wasn’t so kamikaze about his moves. The most worrying part was going through the mountain. Why oh why did I watch Megadisasters involving some crazy tunnel going from Italy to Switzerland or something? We pulled in from the coast a bit and went up and down the mountain road. Motorbikes wove in and around slower trucks as the bus sped past everyone on the curves. I’ve been praying a lot since coming  to Vietnam. There was a little more coast line to be seen as we came into Hue. I look forward to making that trip. It’s very beautiful there. There was no A/C on the bus, but once the window was opened the cool moist air washed over my face. I’ve never seen so much green in my life.There was a lot of green on the island of Kauai, but one side of that island is dry like desert. No deserts in Vietnam. It was amazing to pull through Hue. The city center is really busy with motorbikes and cars racing through each roadway in any direction. Once the bus pulled up to Ngoc Hotel the down pour began. I huddled in he doorway as tourists checked in and I waited for my scooter transport to the bus.

Once we reached the bus, there was pandemonium. It was raining hard now. We threw our bags to the porter and scrambled to get on. We put our shoes in plastic bags and were shown to our berths. I picked an upper berth, climbed in and wedged myself in for the ride. Damn, it was a small space.

waking the next morning

They put all the foreigners in the back. A french couple, some Japanese, a few other white English speakers climbed into their berths. The sun had gone down completely before we were all packed in. Moving through some tolls they turned on a Vietnamese variety show. Each berth had a speaker above it and they played it extremely loud. I placed ear plugs in still heard every word. I had to laugh though, similar to our culture a man dressed in drag is comedy…Flip Wilson, Martin Lawrence, Dame Edna, okay, she’s British…Anyway, I found that I could follow a bit of what was going on, especially when they pulled out a picture of Jennifer Aniston. The screens went dark at some point and it got quiet. Wedged in with pillows in appropriate places I slept hard. The bus rocked like a boat. I did almost get pitched over the side and I think we got stuck in the mud in the middle of the night. That’s when I felt the most rocking. At times the bus would stop, the lights would come on and people would wake those departing at certain stops. I had to laugh at one point as the Vietnamese tried to wake the Japanese and get them to their stop in a hurry. Talk about confusion.

The next morning was extremely rainy.

I have no idea where I am...

Lush and green everywhere we woke with three more hours before we got to Ha Noi. The French couple was up arguing, as I found out later they missed their bus to Ha Long Bay. If there was anything I learned since being abroad is that you need to make sure you connecting transportation is at least a day apart. Nothing, I mean nothing is ever on time.

We disembarked the bus in the old part of Ha Noi. We were immediately harassed by travel agents trying to book up certain hotels. I was given info on a hotel back in Hue, 12 bucks a night including breakfast. It was not the Dai A that’s for sure. I was just glad to have cheap accommodations. It’s a loud place, paper thin walls. I decided to skip writing about the negatives of being in Ha Noi. Considering the reason I needed to be up here, it is understandable that I would be stressed out.

I had made an online appointment with the U.S. Embassy to get a new passport. It was easy enough to get a new one, except that immigration in Da Nang failed to give me paperwork that said I reported the passport missing. After giving much sad face, the nice lady behind window number 2 spoke to her co-workers an they were able to get a letter explaining the situation. I walked out of the embassy within an hour, you can’t do that at any DMV, even with an appointment. I was in a much better mood. It got even better when Mr. Simon called me and asked if I was coming back to Da Nang. I told him I needed to be up here another full week, but would return to Da Nang.

He encouraged me and said they wanted to give me classes and he would begin the necessary steps to get my work permit. Sweet! So I was able to pull a little bit out of my funk. I could look at Ha Noi with different eyes. I went down the street and got a cheap massage, 12 bucks for sixty minutes. I made plans to go to Ha Long Bay on a three day cruise over the weekend.

It’s very lonely here though. I came to Vietnam with advice ringing in my head. They don’t see many black people here. I might see pointing and staring. Some might laugh or even come up to me and touch my skin. The months proceeding my journey I thought long and hard about that. I figured I would just smile back and say hello or laugh with them. I thought that my skin was thick enough to deal with it, however they reacted. What I wasn’t prepared for was the racism from other white travelers, Australians exempt. I’ve gotten the most ugly stares from white backpackers. If they even look my way they avoid looking me in the eye. I will get a good morning from the Malays, Vietnamese, Singaporeans, and others at the communal breakfast table, but the white English speakers will sit right next to you without any kind of acknowledgement.

It was also lonely because I didn’t have facebook or facebook scrabble. I had depended on technology to speak to K on a nightly basis and we didn’t have that, until recently when I was finally able to get internet in my room. It’s a slow connection too. Since ordering the passport and making arrangements for a cruise I thought I would make some touristy moves. I rented a cyclo and went around some parts of Ha Noi. We drove past some temples, through special markets selling live fish and frogs. It was a cool ride, but kind of scary. I think they make it scary on purpose. I wish I had my camera so I could take a picture of this woman and her husband in another cyclo stuck in the middle of an intersection we were approaching. She looked really scared. I just smiled as we passed each other. I did get concerned as we made a left turn directly into the line of cars and motorbikes. Soon after we pulled over and my ride was done. Whew!

I also bought tickets earlier that day to watch the water puppet show. That was really fun. My brother would have to sit in the front row. A person of 5’7″ was fitting quite tightly in the seats. A person of 6’5″ would never have a chance of even bending their knees to get into the seat. As a matter of fact two tall Aussies needed to move toward the end of the row so they could swing their legs out into the aisle. I stayed where I was until some stinky man sat next to me. I know it is hot in Vietnam, but that means don’t scrimp on the hygiene. There was no way I could sit there for 45 minutes and enjoy the show. As the lights went down I jumped forward over the chairs, which were empty, and made myself comfortable. I had a nice cool breeze blowing my way that didn’t include body odor. There were dragons dancing, a procession and day glow. It was a nice break to be inside and get a little culture. Don’t get me wrong, there is culture everywhere you look.

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Published in good spirits and a full belly.

First week…in Da Nang

Well, 6 hours in Ha Noi makes me long for Da Nang. The ease of Da Nang trumps the pollution and noise of Ha Noi. It’s unlikely I will visit HCMC without K by my side. I’m not really a “traveler”. The only reason I would return to Ha Noi would be travel with K. My main goal for being here is to procure a new passport so I can have my papers together to get my work visa. Did I mention I have a job?…Well, I haven’t signed a contract yet, but…when I get back I should have all my paperwork together and be ready to begin.

My first week here in Vietnam could have been better, meaning if passport was in hand, but I have learned a lot about myself. I learned that I have the capacity for enduring patience. Here you need the ability to take things slow. In Jamaica they say “soon come”. In Da Nang they say “no problem.”

Tien

Tien and Tam made my transition a bit easier. I would greet them in the morning as I ate my pho. Tien would then take me on his motorbike to different places. We would return in the early afternoon. I would shower and nap until we met up for beers and he would show me a new food stall to eat at. He would speak to each stall, explain that I wasn’t a tourist and made sure I got the best price.

Tam (Easy Rider)

I met Tien a block from my hotel. I had sat at Bamboo 2 watching the motorbikes make their way along Bach Dang which runs along the Han River. Whole families, sometimes made of four, were on one scooter. I watched a scooter carry a baby in a restaurant highchair pass by. It was amusing to see the evening cruise. I was wondering back to my hotel when Tien approached me and help me find my way. I took his card and agreed to go to Marble Mountain and Monkey Mountain the next morning. I relaxed in the hotel and watched some TV until I fell asleep.

FRIDAY…Good morning Vietnam! September 2^nd was a national holiday. My first breakfast was French bread and jam. I had a coffee with milk and watched as others were offered noodles for their breakfast. If I knew it was possible I would have ordered pho myself. I took note to ask for it the next morning. Tien met me at 9 and we headed out on his scooter to Marble Mountain. It was already really hot, but it was nice to have the wind in my face. Tien pointed out hospital bunkers left from the war and the resorts and casinos that lined the beach. There is a lot of development happening in Da Nang. Once at Marble Mountain I was left to make my climb of a gazillion stone steps in the heat of the morning.  I donned my backpack and climbed. There were a ton of people climbing the steps, young and old. It was a bit overwhelming, the heat, at first. I climbed and was continually asked to purchase incense for the Buddha.  At one set of stairs I stopped to rest as did three other boys. I wiped my face with my Dallas Cowboys bandana as they began to take pictures of me with their cell phones. Then they began to take pictures with me. After the pictures it seemed that they adopted me and grabbed my hand to climb with them.

I wanted to see the sleeping Buddha, but it was way too crowded and dark to make up the haphazard steps. I reflected on Uncle Randy’s story of his trip to Marble Mountain and felt that it was okay to not climb into the hole. I just got to Vietnam and I didn’t need to hurt myself. I will go back with K. The steps were steep going up and down . I met Tien at the bottom and we moved on toward Monkey Mountain. We scooted by China Beach, which was empty of people and only had tiny breaks as proof of surf.  Fishing boats were pulled onto the beach waiting to leave that night for a fishing trip. I expected to see food stalls along the beach serving what they caught, but honestly, it is way too hot for anyone to just hang out on the beach like that. Across the road were a few places to stop and eat, but they were empty during the day.

Once up Monkey Mountain I was able to walk around an area covered in stone.  Heat radiated from the sun and the ground. Vietnamese people milled around the temple and surrounding grounds. There was this amazing huge pristine white Buddha that rose out of a lotus.  The architecture and landscaping would be K’s dream to walk around to see. I did find myself in an area where I should have taken my shoes off so I just rushed myself down the stairs back to Tien. I was hot and tired at this point. Glad to have been to a few sights Tien took me back to the hotel to cool out.  I returned to my room and began to ruminate about my lost passport. I had a hard time thinking about where it had gone. How did it leave me so easily? How come it was so hard to relocate? I took apart all of my luggage, pointlessly, looking for that little blue book. They should make electronic passports the size of credit cards that gets slid through a machine as you enter each country. I mean, come on, it is the new millennium.

I made some more phone calls to Vietnam Airlines to inquire about my report of my missing passport. After being disconnected 5 times someone finally called my room to say that it wasn’t found. I sat on my bed feeling a bit low. Then my mind just began to race. Mr. Hiep was sitting next to me. He’s the only one I talked to while I was holding the damn thing. Something might have happened when we exchanged business cards. He had been so nice and willing to help, what if he actually picked it up and was waiting for me to call so he could prove that he was a “scout boy” like he claimed. My mind went negative…it was like the time I lost my wedding ring and I almost jumped a little person on BART because he looked suspicious. He could have crawled under my seat and slipped it off my finger while I slept on the train…horrible, I know…of course, I found my ring in the gym at my office. I just had a feeling about Mr. Hiep. I ended up calling him.

Ten minutes later he showed up at my hotel. We talked about the situation. He didn’t have the passport, of course, but he did have connections at the airlines and promised to look into it when he returned to Saigon (HCMC). We talked a little more about my situation. He asked me about my teaching, and what schools I was interested in. When I mentioned Fisher’s Superkids he gave me a phone number of another American who was teaching there. It was definitely not a waste to give this man a call. I met with Tien and we went around the corner from my hotel to his watering hole. There I met Tam, his brother, and sat for a bit watching the motorbikes, learning about the different tours he takes people on. Tam rides a full size motorcycle and makes longer tours all over Vietnam, mainly through the mountains. They both have comment books and both had very good comments from people all over the world.

After the nightly deluge Tien brought me to a place to eat Com Ga, chicken dry. Folks, it was hella dry. Basically it is roasted chicken and rice. I felt good meeting the brothers. Tien and I would set out again the next day. Back in the room I showered as the room cooled off. I sat back waiting for 10pm when I would skype with K. It would be her morning, yesterday.

SATURDAY…Pho for breakfast along with coffee and milk. Tien and Tam sat across the street at a café. Tam was taking an older Australian lady into the mountains for the day. Tien would take me to My Son Sanctuary  It was a long ride on the back of the motorbike. Along the way there were rice fields and people tending to them. Some used a sickle to cut the grass down and some fields used a weed whacker with a gas motor. They would put it on their shoulder and ride their motorbike to each fied and cut a swath down. It would be picked up, separated and the ride would be laid out on tarps along the side of the road. They did the same with the corn they harvested.  After about an hour on the scooter, we stopped at a place where they made rice paper. . A woman would ladle the rice mixture that included sesame onto a hot skillet heated by the rice husks. Using a wooden baton with a wet cloth tied to the end she would roll it onto the baton and then lay it out on a screen to dry. I had an opportunity to make a few myself. I must say I did well, and we ate what I made. It tasted good.  Back on the motor bike we went to the heritage site.

It was hot and steamy. I thought it might be good to spray some OFF on my exposed limbs and headed up the road to the ruins.  I was very surprised at the amount of people there. Mainly Asians, there were a lot of Japanese and Korean tourists. It was extremely hot. I had to sit down a lot to rest and drink water. I was beginning to feel tired. I think the jet lag was sneaking up on me.  I didn’t stay too long. I wasn’t feeling well. My ass hurt and I wasn’t looking forward to the ride back. On the way back Tien showed me where it would be good to get BBQ beef, but I was too tired to go for it. I requested we get back to my hotel so I could pass out. Scooter butt and jet lag got the best of me that day. No beers with Tien that night.

I was glad to be able to post pictures on Facebook,  and play some scrabble. In the background commercials for that teen movie Eclipse would play. One other channel in English showed Master chef shows continually. On ESPN I was left to watch east coast baseball. I took a nap before my skype session with K. I am very grateful for technologies. It helps to not feel so far away, although it doesn’t help me determine which day it actually is. I am totally lost in time.

SUNDAY…I am so very grateful to have met Tien. I don’t know how I would have gotten my cellphone otherwise. It wasn’t enough to have a name card and email, I needed a number for schools to get a hold of me. We spent about 30 minutes going over the phones. I became a little frustrated with the language struggle, but Tien said “no problem” I got my cheap ass Nokia and SIM card and bought some time. Afterwards, we drank some beers at Tien’s sister’s stall, where I had met him a few nights before. We sat as the rain began to fall and had a few cold ones. Then Tien showed me a place to get fried noodles.  You really need a Chinese person to show you where the good Chinese food is at…this is where I miss my buddy B.O.B.B.Y. I sat at the food stall taking in the sights and sounds. Holy smokes, I’m in Vietnam.

The day was chill. Tien was showing me around. He showed me a great place to get pho. That particular spot was owned by people from Ha Noi and it has been the best pho I’ve had

first faux pas, leaving chopsticks in bowl

As the night grows older Da Nang cools off, but also shuts down. Cafes close and only a few restaurants are open. After spending the day in the heat I retire to my room for some TV and a nap before my nightly skype session. I needed to calm down a bit. Monday was my day to head out around town to look for work.

MONDAY…I woke up early to set out my shirt and tie. I wasn’t looking forward to wearing so much material in the heat, but that’s the only way I can think of to get a job, look professional. They key is to wear a tank under so it gets sweated out before the shirt. I wanted to wilt when I stepped off the elevator at my hotel, but I persevered. Tien took me to each English language school in the city, nine. Again, Tien is the man. I don’t think I would have found the schools without him. It would have taken me a week to apply to each school, if I found them. It is very important to have a motorbike in Da Nang, because the schools are very spread out. We made it to the school that I had made contact in the spring, the school that offered me a job and then quit communications. I met directly with the director this time. We chatted for just a moment. It was long enough for him to tell me that they had too many teachers for their 50 students and give me directions to a café that had a bulletin board that listed jobs.

oh yes I did

Bread of Life is a café owned by an American and employs deaf people for vocational and ASL training. UCSI director mentioned they had good hamburgers and I figured I might be able to find a lead. I left UCSI campus determined to never contact them again and headed for a familiar lunch. He was right about the bulletin board. I found a posting for a job, a few postings for cheap housing, and a post for Vietnamese language lessons. The Coke was cold, the burger and fries were okay, but it was good to try and wrap my head around a few things. I made a list of things to do before the end of the afternoon. I knew I was ready to get out of this shirt and tie, but the day was not over.

30 minutes after sending Mr. Simon my CV he called me for an interview. I got back into my shirt and tie and went to interview at Gia Minh. It’s an English language school far down the road from my hotel. Through an alley and up some stairs you can hear the voices of eager and happy children. It was steamy in the office. Fans pushed around hot air. One of the young women working administration led me back to Mr. Simon’s office. The difficult part of the interview was understanding Mr. Simon. He himself doesn’t have the best command of the language, so it was slow going. He took whatever paperwork I had and made copies. I made him aware of my passport situation and he let me know that I needed to get my paperwork in order so I could get a work permit. He showed me the work permits he held and his teachers have been with him for many years. I just wish I was able to speak to one of those teachers.

We walked through the small school and I met a few of the children. Super cute! I never did see a teacher in the building. Red flag. I left the office feeling good, otherwise. I knew that if I didn’t have my paperwork there would be no contract. Even if he offered me a class I wouldn’t do it. I’m not trying to get stuck somewhere doing shady business, plus, my ideal place was Fisher’s Superkids. It all happened very fast. Damn, that passport. I needed to push Mr. Hiep on that issue. I didn’t want to push too much because it is Vietnam and they have their own timing. A call wouldn’t hurt.

TUESDAY…I Just wanted to get around the city myself. I started out with my pho breakfast and headed out toward no where in particular. I had been on the back of a motorbike for the past days and kind of felt that I needed to walk around to get my bearings in the place. The woes of scooter butt. I made it three blocks before three motorbikes tried to pick me up. I kept trying to tell them no as they would show me their comment books when Tien rode up on the sidewalk beside me. Since he was there I got on and told him he needed to take me to the immigration office so I could report my passport missing. There I sat in a hot office waiting for what seemed like forever, but was probably 15 minutes. Heat makes time go slow. On the back of the photocopy of my passport they wrote that I needed to go to the U.S. Embassy in Ha Noi. My stomach dropped. I didn’t want to leave Da Nang. I so wished there was a consulate here. I needed to make another call to Hiep, who kept telling me to calm down, he would hear about it soon. Come on man, it’s been a while. If they haven’t found the passport now then they won’t.

After the immigration office Tien took me to Cham Museum . I can’t say I had the best time. I’m not really a museum person, but it was nice. It was also very hot in there. I did think it was interesting how they placed the reliefs in the wall as if they were found there. Of course I liked the lions. There was a nice big tree in the back for shade. I sat there for a while and tried to get my head together. I didn’t really want to do anything. Day by day the amount I owed Tien was mounting, but without my passport I couldn’t cash my traveler’s checks. Money stresses me out. Not knowing the language was stressing me out. The heat was getting to me. Tien could tell something was wrong He said let’s go to Hoi An. I reminded him about money and he said, “no problem”. It was a problem. I shrugged my shoulders and said, “Let’s go to Hoi An, screw it.”

I didn’t like Hoi An. I didn’t like that every step I took they asked me to buy something. I couldn’t walk by one store, stall, or even restaurant without being accosted. It was too much for me. I stopped to buy a soda and was dragged to a tailors shop to look through a catalog of clothing. It was my plan to have clothing made, but I didn’t have Tien with me to introduce me to the right tailor. It was like sitting at a time share meeting. They wouldn’t take no for an answer. I finally escaped the tailor to be harassed by a cobbler, to a souvenir hawker. “Why you no want table runner?” “I don’t have a table.”  I booked it through the alley into the food market. I took out my camera to take a picture and got conned into taking this woman’s photo and then she charged me for it. I should have deleted it in front of her. I wanted to kick her basket over.

Feeling angry and abused I felt hungry. I had not had any fish or seafood since being here. I saw a couple sitting in a restaurant that advertised garlic prawns as a special and I went in and sat down.  I ordered a long island ice tea and waited for a long time. I thing they went to go fish the three prawns they gave me, I was hungry too, so another disappointment…I just wanted to get the hell out of Hoi An. I didn’t understand the appeal. I may go back to get clothing made for work, but that is about it. Get me back to Da Nang. I washed my scooter butt and lay in bed to wait to skype with K, who I was missing tremendously. I was reaching my limit of Vietnam.

WEDNESDAY…After a night of drinking Remy and loud music at the Festival Club I went to Bread of Life for an American breakfast of pancakes and eggs and bacon. Ah, bacon. I had walked there from my hotel and it was very far. I had to call Tien to pick me up and take me back to the hotel. I upset my body by not having pho and I needed to lay down. I blame the food, but I know it was depression. I was feeling out of sorts and after the Festival Club I was feeling taken advantage of. I didn’t want to be part of the city anymore. I slept most of the day.

THURSDAY…I knew I needed to start making plans to deal with the passport issue. I had three huge bags and my backpack to deal with. I felt that if I moved everything up there with me I wouldn’t come back. People have been telling me left and right about how easy it is to get a teaching gig in Ha Noi, but I wanted to stay in Da Nang. I knew I had to get my paperwork in order before anything could happen. I finally heard from Mr. Hiep after a few email exchanges that the passport wasn’t to be found, duh. So which way would I go, by plane or train? Well, by sleeping bus of course. The front desk at the hotel worked out the arrangements. I made my appointment at the embassy for Monday. I would be able to store my larger bags at the Dai A and I was about to be on my way. I still needed some comfort and my body wasn’t use to eating so many carbohydrates…I needed a steak. Going through the in Da Nang website I found an Australian pub and grill across the river by the beach.

The Billabong is a small, but nice place that serves Vietnamese beers and the regular cast of spirits. They have many types of food, but not Vietnamese. I sat at a table away from the bar and stayed quiet. After I ate my steak and fries, which were perfect by the way, three Aussies invited me to the bar for some happy hour beers. We watched some soccer and learned about the Rugby pools. It was nice to get to know those guys. Two of the three were visiting and one has been living there for a while with his Aussie wife and kids. I thought of my friends Chris and Marcy and began to look forward to their visit to Vietnam. Aussies are very friendly. It was good to get to that side of the river. It is even more laid back and beachy. I hope to find residence on that side.

Tien picked me up to take me to the other side so I could skype with K. It wasn’t that time yet but it had been raining and I wanted to get back before any more started. Tien told me that he and Tam had missed me. I was leaving for Ha Noi as they were leaving for Hue and the mountains. They got some Dutch clients and would be gone throughout the weekend. We wouldn’t see each other for goodbyes. I didn’t realize how much we were actually friends. It made my heart feel good. I inadvertently agreed to go home with Tien. We snaked down some thin alley to his house and I met his family. He has three children, 7, 5, and 1. Talk about cute!!! We ate some pho, even though I was full from steak and fries. We sat and talked a little. We watched as his youngest would wipe the table down after we put our sweating beers on the table. Tien couldn’t help but smile over his brood. I felt really special meeting his family. I feel really special having met Tien. I don’t know what my stay in Da Nang would be without him. I got choked up on the motorbike back to my hotel. They’ve given me true Vietnamese love. We agreed to meet in the morning before we both left to say good bye and good luck. Published Sunday night awaiting my appointment for a new passport at the U.S. Embassy.

sorry if it could have been edited better, kinda not in the mood…

The Flight

It’s been seven whole days since I made the trip to Southeast Asia. A tremendous amount has happened since leaving my flat on Page Street. The day of the flight began quietly. I went over and over the contents of my bags, determined to not forget a thing. I paced the floor, held my cats and said my goodbyes to a place I called home for the past 13 years. I cried as I sat on the cold toilet seat one last time. The crying was a relief, letting go of what I found uncomfortable in order to make room for the inconveniences I would experience here in Vietnam. The crying was also from disbelief that I was actually making this move. I use to sit in an office day after day thinking about a day like this. Needless to say, I was quite overwhelmed with my own decisions.

My best girlfriend took off from work to drive K and I to the airport. My heart was heavy leaving her. She had been through so much in the past two years and fortunate for us our friendship grew stronger as we leaned on one another for support through some stressful times. Curbside goodbyes are never the best, but that is what we had to do. K stuck with me and my huge bag and assisted me at check in.

before purchasing another piece luggage

Check in was just a preview of what was to come…Because of weight requirements I needed to purchase another bag to check. It was urgent to take care of this as I must have been on the last AirChina flight from SFO, they were closing the ticket gates. After being directed to a proper luggage store, K helped me repack my suitcases. Time ticked away too fast.

K bought me a sandwich before heading through security which I needed to get to in order to call my parents before boarding the plane. Our good-bye was rushed and way too short. I wish that as I was leaving and even planning this trip I had had more time with her. Time was sliding through the universe, slipping through my hands and conscious. Without my insulin pump I went through security with ease. I slipped my Chacos back on and rushed to the gate.  I called the last of my last people and set the phone to airplane mode. The 747 was packed to the gills. A flying Chinatown. I ate my sandwich and settled back to watch The Lincoln Lawyer which my buddy Rob luckily loaded up on my computer. After the movie I slept.

13 hours later we landed in Beijing. It might have been fog we landed in, but I feel it was otherwise. Once inside the terminal we made our way toward the connecting flight. This airport is immense, pointlessly. Maybe ten percent of the airport is actually used. It seems that they insisted on parking the planes at the furthest gate creating a long distance to do anything. We were very late and even if we landed on time and hour is not nearly enough to make a connecting flight. The lines for transfer and immigration were tremendous and confusing. Two of us missed our connecting flight to Ho Chi Minh City due to the plane’s delay. We needed new boarding passes and to reheck our luggage, if we wound it.

There was another man who had been redirected by AirChina. He was originally suppose to have a direct flight to Hong Kong, but was sent through Beijing. He was trying to get home to see his dying mother. He ended up having to get a hotel room to wait for his next flight out the next morning. We ended up banding together through the confusion and headed through immigration together and looked for our bags, which luckily were still spinning around on the carousel. He left us to go to his hotel and H (a nice young woman from a small town in Pennsylvania) stuck with me as we navigated the immense airport to check back into our flight, now to Singapore and then HCMC. I am so grateful to have been in that situation with her. She’s a seasoned traveler and I was able to gain a little strength from her attitude. I think we both agree, though, to avoid AirChina.

We waited for our flight to Singapore checking mobile access.I was able to send texts to K and let her know a bit of what was happening. I didn’t find  place to charge my laptop though. I really wanted to watch another movie on the next flight, but figured I would try to get as much sleep as possible. I didn’t feel tired, but I totally feared the effects of jet lag and I wanted to do whatever I could to lessen it’s effects. It wasn’t a bad flight. It was another 8 hours I think, or at least it felt that way. I began watching 4 Lions but the accents were hard to understand through my headphones. Then the battery died. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep some more. I was also obsessed with staying hydrated. A week before leaving for my trip I had another corneal erosion. They are the most painful things. I know I have tattoos and all, but when the pain is close or in my head, I have a hard time tolerating it. Upon some research I learned that hydration plays a large part in this condition. I chugged water and added hydration tables to help me absorb said water (thanks Alma).

H and I made it to Singapore without any visible scars, mine are emotional, and were able to get boarding passes and make some internet contact with people. We both took turns watching each others bags as we did some self care. I found a Burger King and had a whopper meal for breakfast. They gave us change in Singapore dollar which I promptly spent at the Starbucks on the way to our gate. The airport and it’s employees are so awesome. Once we had landed from China there was someone at the gate with an iPad to give us information as to where to go for flights and tickets. Purchasing our tickets we found that our boarding passes didn’t list a gate. Another young man was able to check his iPad and show us on our way. Walking through the airport they list the time it will take to walk to the next gate or bathroom.

If possible make your flight arrangements with Singapore Airlines. The planes are nice and clean. They hand out warm towels as you take your seat. The fight attendants are not just good looking, they are fine…and they smile. No one in China smiles. The food was much better and we had real silverware to use. I watched TV on this leg of the flight. Anthony Bourdain in Cambodia, which I have seen like ten times. Watching it this time was totally different. I became more and more anxious as we began to make our descent. I had long missed my flight from HCMC to Da Nang. I knew once I landed I would need to buy a new ticket. Not a problem, I was just playing it by ear at this point. H stayed with me through the visa processing and we headed out to get our bags.

H met up with her fiance, a Vietnamese national, and I headed to the domestic terminal fighting off taxi drivers trying to convince me of a ride…the terminal was a three minute walk. I pushed my cart of bags to a ticket counter and got my ticket to Da Nang. The flight was full except for business class. Hell, I needed to get there, and why not fly in a bit of style the last leg. It cost me just over a 100 bucks to do that. Ticket bought and bags checked in they told me to run to my gate, which I did. I showed my passport and boarding pass and was led to a shuttle that would take me to the plane. I sat on the shuttle a little confused. I asked an older man if I was on the right shuttle for the flight to Da Nang. He said yes and we began to talk.

He asked me my business. He told me he was a factory owner who worked in Saigon, but was from Da Nang. He flies in and out of HCMC weekly for his work. We exchanged business cards and the first thing he mentioned was to get a SIM card. I needed a phone number. We spoke the whole way to the plane. I disembarked the shuttle and rifled through my cargo pocket for my passport and boarding pass. Shit! They were gone. I stood to the side as the shuttles for both business and economy classes left to return back to the terminal. It had been my habit to place my paperwork in my right cargo pocket and I have no idea how it didn’t make it back there when I was at the gate. I stood at the bottom of the stairs with about 6 to 7 airline employees standing around me helping me go through my back pack and looking in places I know I didn’t put my passport, but just in case. Once the last person was on the plane they asked me, “Do you want to go back or fly?” I told them fly.

I needed to get to Da Nang. I had made it that far I needed to go on. I was so disappointed in myself to have made it this far and I effed up so bad. I spent the next hour brushing off the feeling with a Heinekin and pineapple and prosciutto sandwich. An hour later I was claiming my bags and then reporting to the airline my missing passport. After haggling for a cab ride I made it to my hotel.  I wasn’t tired, but I laid down to rest a bit.I struggled with the fact that I lost my passport. I began to feel queasy at the thought of what to do next…I called Hiep, the business man I met on the shuttle. He told me he knew someone at the airlines and he would do some questioning. The problem was that the next day, Friday, was a national holiday. Everything was going to be closed. I decided to hunker down and relax the first night. Grateful to have a contact, I settled in to look at the places I marked on my Google maps and try to devise a plan for the rest of the weekend.
 I wish Bunny(K) was here with me. I took out my bag of trailmix she had hurriedly mixed for me and turned on the TV. I laid back turning the AC up to high and waited to skype with K and then fall asleep. Heading to Hanoi by overnight bus as this is being published to get a new passport.

The last goodbyes…

Growing up with such an intense feeling of otherness, I have found that I allowed that otherness to be a wedge between certain relationships. At the same time I found people who embraced me and that otherness. I have been blessed to always have the most beautiful people to love me and hold me up. At the very start of my blooming, as late as it was, I made the acquaintance of a beautiful young woman whose eyes are half moons when she smiles. We met at QSU at UCSB. She is interesting, intelligent, empathetic and strong willed. She really believes in living. I am very proud of our friendship. She is one of a handful of sisters I have. (Shout out to Andrea and Alicia) I am really going to miss them.

Ileana took me out last weekend. We saw The Coup at the Independent. It was a badass show. I had no idea of what I was walking into and after speaking to a Chris H. I feel like an ass for not knowing about them sooner. He’s from Philly, so he’s cool like that. It was the best show I have ever gone to, with the exception of seeing the Gotan Project at the Warfield. I was so happy to be there with her. I am going to miss these types of shows while living abroad. I’ve been spoiled living two blocks from the Independent.

This band from Oakland made some hardcore, rock/funk tunes that made your feet and knees hurt from dancing on the concrete floor. One of my pet peeves is people who don’t know their own space while dancing, but that night I just rode the positive vibrations.. There were creative lyrics, talented vocalists and awesome DJay, Pam the Funkstess, who spun the records with her ample breasts. That’s right, her boobies. It was such a good show.

Saturday the following day, my buddy, B.O.B.B.Y, and I went to the Art and Soul Festival in Oakland. The Plaza Stage was the brightest, with the best talent. Sisters in the Pit rocked it out. I’d never seen 3 black women rock so hard. I tried to swallow down that this was a significant moment. I wouldn’t be seeing black folks in Vietnam. I also wouldn’t be seeing much funnel cake either. After getting our fill of vitamin D in Oakland we made our way back to North Beach to meet up with more of my people for beer and curry. There was the 630 crew, the Twins, and the Hermans who joined me with a few others for some spicy food and pub games. It was nice to share food and a raucous good time while a gang of super heroes danced around the establishment. The best part of the night was watching the Herman fuse-ball tourney that went in slow motion. I was fascinated by the lack of shit talking during the competition. I’m still not sure which side had won. I was glad to take these moments to catch up with people, talk about possible visits.

A long table full of my buddies was great to see. These are the people I try to share the best of times. These were people I could get down with while dressed as a bunny or a banana. It was really nice. I am blessed with the best spirits surrounding me, evidence of my mother’s prayers. In each of one I see love, goodness and God. It is so hard to believe we will be so far from each other.

Sigh, I love you guys.

Whew! There is so much to do…

Behind in my blog entries…trying to keep things in order.

is ticking away. Things are being marked off my “to do” list everyday and another item is added to it every hour. This week remains to be the most emotional of weeks. Crappy SF weather, tasking, research, reservations, packing, selling… This week also became more emotional as I said farewell to a friend embarking on further education and life on the east coast. It was fun to see people I hadn’t seen in a few years. I met a couple of new ones. Then it hit me. I have a lot of people to say good-bye to and I don’t know if I will be able to reach them all. I began to imagine what my last huzzahs would be like. It took a lot out of me putting it together.

Sadness hits me in different moments…that I am leaving some wonderful people. There are going to be some things I will miss out on. I’m gonna miss Lil’ Z.  I will miss my godson to no end. I got a little baby cousin living in Noe Valley that I was getting to know. Kids make me smile. My awesome people have some awesome kids. If I can explain the feeling better I would try to say that everyone has this little energy cell or battery that they feed love and then it feeds me. It works remotely, probably left in some corner on a shelf, quietly acquiring thoughts and love of me. The closer I am to this remote source the more tied in I feel. I’m strengthened nd motivated. There is a bit of fear about being at such a distance from these small sources of love.

The nuclear winter we had been experiencing the past week in San Francisco didn’t help with my mood either. Finally, the winter weather receded back into the Sunset district and I am reminded of my inspirations. I know some awesome people, my champions, my cheerleaders. I have been able to draw strength and inspiration. Mr. Gaetano is a great source of inspiration. He’s always been a hard worker. I’ve only known him to work with compassion and passion. This summer went by too fast. I only got to visit with Matt and Julie for a hot second this year. That dude is my buddy. He makes me forget things, like how I don’t care for tequila. That is the devil’s drink. I’m going to miss our little reunions. As a director of an international school in Nouakchott, Mauritania, I will save the true story written under an alias, where all the characters names have been changed. He does get credit for giving the warmest loving friendship in the world. With that I tend to hang on to his every word as he tells me what he has seen in the world. I did decide, though, that I had heard a lot of his adventures and that I needed to make my own.

I know of two people from my TEFL class who have moved abroad. We carpooled together to class weekly. Archie and BeBe have been traveling since April. They began in Cambodia and are making their way to Turkey. Amazing! They may be there before this is published and I wish them the best of luck! I am realizing I have this small international community now, even if it doesn’t yet exist in Da Nang. It will.

There are a lot of things that have been weighing on my mind. It never fails that someone asks how I feel about being away from K. It’s going to kind of suck. I will have to grow half a brain in the next two weeks. Then there will be the talking to myself in the hotel room…I try to reflect on a good friend of mine who went through years of being apart from her husband. I remember meeting up with my friend Michelle in her town of Seattle. She’s is a calm, but motivated individual. She’s strong and grounded, but vulnerable and I could see how she was a bit lonely. It’s an amazing type of individual to allow for such space and time for their partner to grow and enhance their being. If Obie and Michelle can do it and survive years apart, then Karli and I will make if for the five months we will be apart.

I am a blessed individual. I deeply appreciate the opportunities set out before me and the leeway to pursue them. That too is inspiring to me. It’s not time to waste any opportunity in your life. I don’t particularly want to be remembered for what I didn’t do…

Moving to Nam sale…

Five weekends in July led to a lot of productivity. I took advantage of each weekend working on eliminating our belongings. The first two weekends were bright and sunny with a lot of foot traffic. We took the third weekend to donate clothes to Walden House and books to the Prison Library Project housed in the Bound Together bookstore. Week after week we made a cull. Pictures came off the wall. Knickknacks left islands clear of dust on the mantle and shelves. The last two weekends left us to work under temper mental skies with fog always nudging the edge of our neighborhood. We met more of our neighbors and learned more about our neighborhood on those five Saturdays than in my five, K’s eighteen, years at Page and Divis. Again, I must lament the end of an era. I remember standing in a phone booth in IVBC accepting an offer of a tiny room in the Castro. If there had been cameras at Triple 8…well, let’s say there were good times and there were bad (just a few) times. We took the Halfway House to the gay level. You have to wait for the book.

I wish I could leave my apartment in the care of a loved one, but I have noticed a large change in the vibrancy of the building. There’s a couple that fight a lot right above us. Then there are the snotty French who live below and have their laundry delivered. Who cares about the laundry, but a hello after a stare down in the entry way would be appropriate. I hardly ever see the few others who are friendly.

I wonder what our new place will be like. I hope it has air conditioning and a western toilet. I think that is my only requirement, so far. I’ll figure it out. I’m up for living with other people until K meets me out there. (We figured out that she will be there just in time for Tet.) I wonder if we will live in a house or an apartment, what the furniture will be like, what kind of scooter parking there will be, if we will have a garden to sit in, and will it be near food.

Page and Divisadero has to be in the top ten area to live in San Francisco. We have watched the neighborhood go through a lot of changes and god bless those who have stayed the same. I hope they will be there when I come back. I hope the cheese monger gets his ass back in cheese gear. I have missed the soy Gouda and sesame treats. Being a former Castro resident, it was easy to move the few blocks to the Lower Haight. I loved living in Oakland, but SF is the place to be.

DREAMS OF DA NANG…

all that was left...

Hot, balmy days, nights. Thick jungle untangles on terrace below. Cool rain on the skin, suffocated by the moist breath. Sweat…

Hot bowls, chilies on tongues, broth, sweat, transistor tunes over char-coaled meat.

PIRATE CAT RADIO

The one and only Anthony Bourdain graced the cafe with is presence and introduced the world to its bacon latte. The cafe is smaller than it looks on TV, but it is definitely funky. Definitely, San Francisco. It could have been any late spring day in the Mission District. Any Friday. Aaron slid the car into a nice spot on Florida. The sun glared off big white trucks that had pink stencils of a skeletal Mother of Guadalupe displayed on their tinted windows and blared Ranchero music for the taco stands on opposing corners.

The warm spring day was open for the talent who would put their voices to the microphone. A slight buzz of energy emanated through the cafe’s door onto the street. Aaron carried his loop equipment and trumpet into the 1/2 cafe and 1/2 radio station. Because of some drama, unbeknown to me, has shaped the radio station into a collective, which is totally better. We sat next to the espresso machine. I claimed my view of the stage and the booth window. I kicked my leg around to find some room for my feet and watched as people came in and signed up on the sheet.

Diamond Dave was definitely a recognizable character. Grey hair to his shoulders and a grey beard to his chest. He wore a flannel over a frayed t-shirt. He introduced himself and Aaron revealed he would be kicking off the talent part of the show. I made an attempt to see the show before, but April Fool’s Day made it one to remember in other ways. A day when they had nothing, no bacon for the latte, no vegan donuts, no ice…damn. Today was a different story. They were stocked and my fierce friend with a creative mind was going to get down as Diamond Dave’s co-host.

Val. Think San Francisco native…political mind…creative writing…education…PARTY. Think super long brown hair floating over a slow cool voice that vibrates with energy and cool…http://globalval.blogspot.com/

She walked in with a cool breeze and Sunshine behind her. Sunny, Sunshine was indeed that. Bright, curly strawberry blond hair that ripened to red in certain places. Her curls were tight, but her movement were loose. Tall, lean, and shapely, she wore a dress cut to flow down her legs and it was covered in bright colors and shapes that resembled paisley. The open shapes made it look like a psychedelic garden. Her soft white skin kissed the air. She glided into the cafe after Val as the sun would follow the moon. It made sense so. She passed off her affection as if you really deserved it, but she didn’t know you yet, or did she?

Sunny reminds me of Maupin’s Mona. Flowing dresses, freewheel love and energy…Sunny may even have a wooden Tibetan box that held the last two Quaaludes left in existence on a shrine in the corner of her Tenderloin apartment. She called herself a Tenderloin Princess. She called me Darlin’. She drank her tea as I imagined the hookers along Polk Street as her ladies in waiting. The johns were a regular rotation of court jesters…Her prince would be solid, but flexible. Together they would rule over the Tenderloin opening our hearts to the flowers we miss walking over them as they grow from the cracks.

The idea of Sunny solidified in front of me. I was intimidated by her youth. I reveled, at the same time, in the creative glow she wore proudly. She wasn’t the regular Earth Mama. She eventually entered the booth with Dave and Val. She took a part of my life in there with her. I just hope she gives it back as a memory. I sat in Pirate Cat Radio Cafe feeling on of those San Francisco moments, watching a radio show on a warm spring day in the Mission, drinking maple bacon lattes…I was feeling like a cool kid.

Once the show began more and more people with guitars began to show up and sign their name on the list. No one drank coffee. As an interview was proceeding I heard a fiddle warming up outside the door. Mark Christiensen? Ever heard of him? Well, recently he wrote a book called Sometimes a Great Notion and the Kesey Legacy (2008). He was interviewed by Val and Dave before the talent got their talent on. The banter in the booth was fun. Everyone was mainly of the same mindset, but different generations. All could relate. There was talk of weed, acid, the government and conspiracy theory…these are the kinds of conversations we have in San Francisco…

It got hushed as Aaron prepared to play. It was quiet as he professionally brought out his equipment and set it up. Mellow, he was ready to lead the parade. It’s hard to describe Venus Loops. Ethereal? Abstract? Vocal? It’s creative and sometimes unreadable, but mainly it is moving. It makes more sense when you know the song title. Diamond Dave called it psychedelic and in most moments I can see how he came to that determination. There’s no reverb, but echos sound a little haunting before they are cemented into the loop. I love the trumpet and I love Aaron.

I don’t know if getting to know Aaron’s music will help you get to know him, but knowing him makes the music sound better. Every time he blows his horn he blows me out of the water. The music is organized and complex. His loops station creates a certain depth to each song. Aaron is doing what Miles did to Jazz, he is creating a buzz in our ears and it sounds real good. Done

I’m not really done. There were a lot of talented me that performed at PCR. There wasn’t one female singer, but Sunny read from her blog, Diary of a Tenderloin Princess. All were good on the mic, but I especially liked one dude who sang a song about wasting time on Facebook…

Would I ever read? Val’s invited me a ton of times. I don’t know. I’m a writer, not a reader. I’ve always preferred my words to be read, mulled and commented later. Breathing life immediately to my words seems reckless. I shouldn’t stress the meaning of the words anymore than anyone could understand their order. I definitely should encourage others to sign that sheet and play their hearts out. The Cafe/station was full by the time the second hour began. Aaron set a high bar for the rest to reach.

The afternoon persevered into a bright evening. Small crowds shaped around taco stands. Happy hour crowds skipped from their warehouse offices to the watering hole next door. The innovative day worked into my subconscious. Sadness swept through me quickly at the thought of leaving this…friends, the city gems, community…I am bolstered at the thought that I know I will be back for it all. If not, then it is one of be best memories of San Francisco

A long goodbye…

It’s definitely been a mind trip since purchasing my one way ticket to Da Nang, Vietnam. Yeah. Vietnam.  Three years ago I said I would like to travel Jamaica. I still want to go. I had  researched  the history and culture, including the Rastafarians, but It was the United States economy that truly determined the fate of that that ever happening. My best friend had also moved onto bigger opportunities. I missed out on what would have been a hella cool experience.

K was laid off Valentine’s Day 2009. I was laid off Christmas Eve 2009. Leading up to my lay off I watched my wife, at first, struggle, and then flourish in her (f)unemployment. No longer able to google chat with her during the day, I spent some time during breaks searching the web. For months, before being laid off, I was biding my time, paid to look busy. I was really grateful to have that job as long as I did. At the same time it became harder and harder for me to make that early commute to Coliseum BART and a shuttle to an industrial park. During my commute hours I would sort out what I would do when I eventually got laid off, because It was just a matter of time.

Week after week if was the conference of the office as to what I would put on my time card. I couldn’t put down that I searched the web about teaching English overseas. The day was so void of actual CAD work that I would watch a movie on a monitor facing away from my office door and keep a drawing template open on the second monitor. Every few minutes I would move the screen and then zoom in and out. I tried to learn the 3D features of Auto CAD, but my mind was somewhere else.

I wasn’t happy about being laid off, but I was happy being laid off. I began to get real sleep without my CPAP machine. I no longer had anxiety about sleeping past my commute. K said I stopped snoring heavily. My eyes cleared of any hemorrhages blocking my vision. I finally had bunion surgery, which ended up being a waste, but it was still covered, because I left with a tiny severance. Tiny. Being laid off was good for my health.

*                                                      *                                                      *

Now, close to two years later, zion.free.johnson is ready to go international. Back in August 2010, I found an informational meeting about teaching abroad. LCC A young, dynamic man from Santa Barbara presented to me a palette of possibilities. Before going this route I researched going into graduate school, gender, FTM focused and realized I still wouldn’t be able to write what I wanted. I was also lost in academic vocabulary which, at times, feels astringent.

I completed my TEFL course in February 2011. It had a lively and diverse class. I appreciated all personalities, but one. They were a cast of characters I hope to wrangle into a meaningful story, one day. After completing the course I have nothing positive to say about the school itself. Two of the three instructors were amazing. My problem is that the school does’t do what they say, like their bullshit placement statement. If you’re into teaching then I highly recommend going this route but you need to be an independently minded individual and motivated. Let’s face it. I’m not getting any younger.

So, that’s how I found myself going to Vietnam. Why Vietnam?…It’s the only country, other than Saudi Arabia, that responded. K also seemed excited about it. That’s where I have been putting my energy and it’s paid off. I am ready to have my mind blown and after living in San Francisco for thirteen years you have to leave to country for that.

I leave August 30th. K will follow me in the new year. I feel overwhelmed, forgetful, excited, ecstatic, imaginative and brave. I confess to feeling like I won’t be homesick. I’ve been wanting to leave here for a long ass time now. I’ll miss certain conveniences, but I won’t miss MUNI. I’ll miss my friends, but hey, I’m going international. I’ll make more. Not replacements, just more support. I’ll miss my cats, but I will feel better not stressing them with 40 hours of travel, nor will they be poisoned or eaten by some animal from the jungle. I know that’s a bit dramatic, but I think of these things. It’s also just too blasted hot for these felines to feel comfy. They are too fluffy for heat and humidity. They are wonderful souls and we will find good homes for them.

I will miss my wife, but I hope to learn as much as I can to help her feel better in her transition. I will miss my wife, but I am really looking forward to taking this career leap after having been shut out of success in other paths. Sometimes I feel that I am forever starting new. I will miss my wife, but I am reminded of how gracious she is to uproot herself and go on this adventure with me. I will miss our apartment,( which we cannot sublet 😦 ) with it’s cheap rent. On the other hand I WILL NOT miss another cold ass winter in that flat…

near launderland

I believe I’ve left enough of a mark on this city that I can move on. I’ve left my name and initials in wet cement . I was a leader in the transgender community. I’ve wired a few buildings in San Francisco, including the Ferry Building, as an electrical apprentice.

I’ve been feeling really good about myself. I feel strong having lost 40 pounds. Man, I can move now. I climb Twin Peaks for the first time. It was a view I will never forget…

I finished writing a novel. I am very excited about it. It’s a mystery set in San Francisco. Murders are occurring in Dolores Park. The victims are transgender males. The cast of characters must must deal with the fact that one of them had been wickedly beaten and he might not be the last. The protagonist also must deal with changing attractions, gender fluidity, and her past. It’s the first in a series. So now the query letter must be written. I think I have a winner.

I would like to think that living abroad is more of a family tradition. My mother lived in Japan. My father has been all over the world while he was in the Air Force. I was born overseas… I look forward to so many things, including my departure, but more so my return into foggy loving arms of San Francisco and the people I love.