The Journey Home for Christmas

I really love to travel, whether it’s a brief weekend jaunt to a neighboring locale, or a hardy month-long venture across Northern Europe. And today I was leaving sunny Los Angeles to make my way north to visit my mom for Christmas.  Armed with a well-stocked iPod and an entertaining book, I was excited to get through security and have the adventure begin. I will admit that I don’t mind waiting in airports, and after my time as an extra on movie sets where waiting can be the only agenda for the day, my patience quotient has become quite high. Besides, you never know what kind of interesting people you’ll meet at an airport (but those are stories for another time).

Have I mentioned how much I LOVE to fly? Ohh man, it’s so great! I love it all! The speed of take-off, lifting into the air, soaring higher and higher into the sky as the houses, cars, and world below become smaller and further away. Today was especially beautiful. Our plane sped into the air and was quickly enveloped by the winter clouds. Then rays of sunlight poured in the chicklet windows as we broke through and rose above the fluffy white madness layered beneath us. Wow! 

I deboarded the plane in San Francisco. Crap, it was cold! After retrieving my small suitcase and feeling grateful that it had made the journey safely with me, I wrapped a wool scarf around my neck, pulled my coat a little tighter and once again braced myself for the frigid air. All right, I know it’s not that bad. But my blood has thinned out in the Southern California heat to which I’ve become accustomed. After all, it was 89 degrees just a few days prior.  

After a brief wait and some people watching, I boarded a shuttle bus. With the Foo Fighters providing my soundtrack, I settled into the seat, stared out at the familiar San Francisco streets and smiled. I admired the Victorian houses in their varied colors. Pink ones. Blue ones. I loved the people’s willingness to be so original. And look at the moldings. Huh. Petrol prices are just as perverse here. Ohh, look! I can see the top of the Golden Gate Bridge through the tree tops.

I have had a love affair with the Golden Gate Bridge since I was a toddler. I was fortunate enough to have the opportunity to walk across it the one time they closed it off to traffic in celebration of it’s 50th anniversary. As we crossed it, I turned and stared back at the spectacular SF skyline. The dome of the Palace of Fine Arts, the piers, and the distinctive Pyramid Building. And there floating in the bay was Alcatraz. 

On the other side, the lush green cliffs jut up from the ocean and stretch into the sky. It was also where we went in high school to “park”. Can you imagine how lucky we were to be able to drive up the hill overlooking the SF bay and the big red bridge on a moonlit night? As the bus climbed the hill into Marin County and passed through the rainbow tunnel I felt as though we had officially entered my old stomping grounds. I peered down at Sausalito, which was my first home when we came to the States. Houses precariously perch its treacherous hillsides, which one must access through tight, curvy little roads marked by little brown street signs. I’ve always loved those street signs.

A bit further down the road and I could see my picturesque high school. From the expanse of football field and track, to the clock tower. It truly is beautiful. And rising directly behind it lay Mount Tam. I couldn’t help but wonder how many times I traversed its steep terrain. Damn. No wonder I was so little and in such good shape. It might be time to take up hiking again!

Finally we arrived at the end of my journey. We passed the Ferry Terminal and I remembered the journeys into the city by ferry. It’s another fun way to travel the expanse between Marin and SF and I highly recommend it. At last I arrived the awaiting arms of my mother. I was home.