From the temple to the racetrack: My last day in the U.S.

8:00 p.m. Monday, Sept. 6, 2010 – Continental Flight 2172, somewhere in between Houston and Villahermosa

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We decided to spend Sunday, my last day in the country, in Berkeley. Sunday is “Dollar Day” at Golden Gate Fields ($1 entry, $1 bets, $1 hot dogs, $1 beer) so we felt this was a great and cheap opportunity to do something I’d never done before—go to a horse race. I also wanted to figure out some way to meet up with my Kiwi friend Jackson who was going to be traveling through SF this weekend, as well as Jess, an American who I also became really good friends with while studying in New Zealand. It worked out perfectly and they were both able to meet up for the races, along with two of Scott’s other friends.

Scott, Linsey and I decided to go to Berkeley a little earlier to take advantage of the local Buddhist temple’s Thai brunch on Sundays. You pay a donation of $6 and they give you tokens, which you can exchange for scrumptious Thai food. In essence, you are not “buying” the food but merely it is a perk of the donation. We sat outside in the grass and sunshine, eating and being satisfied. Scott actually picked up some dirty old prayer flags he found nearby and gave them to me, and I will add them to my collection.

Then Jess and her boyfriend picked us up and drove us to Golden Gate Fields, where we met up with the others. It was awesome seeing Jess and Jackson again after more than a year and a half, and we spent plenty of time reminiscing about past adventures. We watched six races, but I only bet on the first two. Afterlosing six dollars (hardly a lot, but I wasn’t keen to lose all my food/drink money), I was content to watch and cheer on whichever horse had the name or jockey colors that appealed to me.

After we had our fill of racing, gambling and the intense Berkeley sun at least ten degrees hotter than in San Francisco at any given time), we walked around downtown a bit and got some sandwiches at a Brazilian food stand. It was definitely a day of delicious and exotic food (except for the hot dogs, they were nothing special). Then the group split up, with Scott, Linsey and I taking the BART back to SF and meeting up with Linsey’s roommate to see Vetiver play at the Independent. We got a few beers first at the Bean Bag, a coffee shop/bar across the street. I’d never heard of Vetiver before, but they were likened to M. Ward and definitely something you’d hear on WKNC 88.1. It was a great show, and a proper way to cap the evening of my last day. I was back by a little after midnight and packed up all my things before bed.

With Linsey’s recommendation I decided to book an airport shuttle which would pick me up at my door and take me straight to my terminal. This would help me avoid the headache I had experienced getting here; it took me almost two hours getting from SFO to Scott’s door. That included the BART ride, transfer to MUNI, missing one stop, and then getting off finally at Castro stop only to have to roll/carry my large amount of luggage up five blocks of intense San Franciscan hills. About half way there, a pizza delivery guy with a pickup truck took pity on me and threw my bags in his trunk, and drove me the rest of the way to Scott’s house (which happens to be on one of the steepest streets in SF). So needless to say I did not want to deal with this again if I didn’t have to, especially if the shuttle would save time and only cost a little more. I set up for a 7:20 a.m. pick up, allowing for plenty of time for me to get to my 10:50 a.m. flight.

I overslept a bit and woke up at 6:45 a.m., but this was still enough time for me to take a quick shower and pack up the last of my things. That is , if the shuttle had actually come at 7:20. Instead I got a call at 7:00 from the shuttle company while I was in the middle of my shower. It was a machine voice telling me the shuttle was outside my door. $&@%! I almost ran outside in my towel but thought better of it, and just threw back on my pajamas without even drying off. I told the guy my online reservation said 7:20 a.m., and he just told me I was his last stop and to hurry up. I ran inside and dried off, dressed, and threw the rest of my stuff in my pack, praying I hadn’t left anything behind in the frenzy. It took me less than ten minutes and we were still out of there well before 7:20, but I still felt annoyed looks from all the other passengers.

We got there by 7:40 a.m., more than three hours before the flight. I’d say I didn’t exactly throw off anyone’s day. I spent the next few hours making calls to various friends and family members, savoring my last phone privileges for six months. Although with Skype, Gchat and Facebook, I hardly think I’ll be deprived of the necessary avenues for communication. Traveling abroad has gotten much easier, but perhaps we’ve also grown a bit softer because of it. Regardless, I’m thankful.

I arrived to Houston with little time to spare before needing to board for Villahermosa. Though we were delayed an hour on the plane anyway because of weather (a tropical storm on the border of Texas and Mexico) so we didn’t take off until 7 p.m. I am now only an hour away (so doubtlessly have already crossed the aerial border into Mexico), and will spend the remainder of the flight brushing up on my Spanish idioms. How cliché, reading my language book on the plane. !Hasta!

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