San Francisco, California, USA
It seems like every time Christmas and New Year’s holidays approach, I have new travel plans. In previous years, I’ve gone with friends to one of my favourite cities in the world, Austin, Texas, or with my family to San Antonio, Texas. However, at the beginning of 2011, I went on an adventure with a dear friend to San Francisco and Yosemite.
We spent our time in San Francisco walking, walking, and walking some more. We were very lucky, as the weather was great for most of our time there. We got lost in Golden Gate park, we found a true Southern diner that had excellent grits after wandering around the Haight-Ashbury neighborhood, I kept running out into the street trying to get the perfect uphill street shot but never really did, rode the ferry to Alcatraz, had the *most* fun hanging off the railing of a streetcar, couchsurfed for the first time, met random nerds at a trivia night in a bar in Russian Hill over mulled wine and Connect Four, and then drove through a thick fog to Yosemite.
I expected to fall in love with San Francisco, considering how beautiful it was, how I’ve always idealized California, how nice the locals were (they weren’t even snobby when I said I was from the South), and all of the great things I’d heard about it over the years (including some very interesting stories told to me by a high school teacher from San Francisco in Spain). But something about the city was just too gritty for me. Something didn’t click with me. I could never see myself living there. Still, looking back through my photos and reflecting on the trip almost a year later, I realize that I enjoyed myself a lot more than I thought.
This next year, I’ll be spending New Year’s Day in Moscow. I love starting off the new year by doing one of the things I love best, travelling. It makes everything seem fresh and new and all the possibilities of the future endless. Wish me luck.