Merry Christmas! My cousin Ellen and I had a wonderful Christmas Day, exploring and hiking around the beautiful Mount Tam, making crab bisque, and bringing homemade eggnog to friends. There wasn’t a single present to unwrap nor a Christmas Tree, but it was good for us.

Last week I took a short trip up to Santa Rosa, an hour north of the city. (Two + hours via the bus.) I chose it because it was one of the few places with hiking that I could get to using public transportation. More on that later. I found a room on airbnb a mile from Annadale State Park and spent two days wandering around on foot. California seems to be beautiful everywhere you look.

As I’ve spent more time in California, I realize more and more how both I am different, and how the United States is different than what I’m used to. I think I can boil down a couple of my reactions to a share-able level.

First, the public transportation is frustratingly bad here. Getting anywhere, wether it’s across the city or 100 miles away, is expensive and often confusing. I’ve talked to many people about it and the reason we most often hypothesize is Americans’ historical and ongoing focus on car ownership. This is a car based culture that values independence and mobility. I know many people and organizations are working to change this so I won’t say much, but it is striking to me. I keep thinking back to Wales, where even living on a farm far away from any city I could easily use the bus system to get to anywhere, on-time, and cheaply. We have a ways to go.

Another thing I’ve noticed is the heterogeneity of San Francisco; I daily encounter people white, Asian, black, brown, and anything in between. This is obviously different from the places in the US that I am more familiar with. (Vermont is one of the whitest states in the country.) This should be refreshing to me.

At this point I am almost more comfortable in places where I am the only Caucasian in sight. I have found that sticking out has been a huge advantage for me, especially in Asia where people Want to help. People notice me, and keep an eye out for me. Here I do not get the same feeling. One morning I went for a wander and mistakenly turned Down the hill. I quickly found myself in a place I instinctually knew I shouldn’t be. Everyone stared at me, but not in a friendly way. I passed drug users, drug deals, people sleeping on the sidewalk. I did not feel in danger but definitely felt their pushing eyes; what is SHE doing here, with her sunglasses on?

The absolute worst part, which I am aware can sound really terrible but I think you’ll understand, is that now when I find myself, one block away from Macys, in a neighborhood of people who do not look “like me” I automatically wonder if I have wandered into a place I should not be. This has nothing to do with my feelings about people that look different than me. This has to do with gentrification of cities, and the resulting unsafe neighborhoods with disproportionate racial percentages.

I hate it. I don’t know if this is specific to SF, but I hate that this major city has distinct, separate, racially and economically divided areas. I hate that I can’t comfortably go for a wander here like I have in countless other cities around the world. How ridiculous is it that I have felt less safe here than Phnom Penh, Cambodia?

I remember a conversation that I had with Zehra and Christoph in Nurnberg, Germany. Zehra was American and was relating how hard it was for her to understand that in Munich, or Nuremburg, or probably any other German city, she could walk anywhere alone at two in the morning and be completely safe. Violence is just not accepted. Health care and social services are more accessible so folks don’t end up on the streets. The difference is shocking.

Obviously I didn’t take pictures of what I’m talking about, but here’s a few from one of my inner city walks. This is the town hall on the day Santa Claus set up shop across the street. I saw the snow and crossed the street to it with a woman who exclaimed to me that she had been fighting breast cancer for the last year and had just told her husband she wanted to see snow again before she died. It was a moment that will always stick out in my memories here.

Finally, on a very positive and personal note, I believe that I have surpassed one of my deepest fears: being an alien, belonging nowhere. Before I left on this trip that was an active insecurity of mine. I think this developed as I was separated from the home I grew up in, from my grandparent’s home that I vacationed in, my parents move away from the town I grew up in, my parent’s divorce, and my alienation from friends and roommates, all within a couple of years. A while ago I was reading a novel about an orphaned boy (Tad Williams’ The Dragonbone Chair) and saved this quote:

“Never make your home in a place. Make a home for yourself inside your own head. You’ll find what you need to furnish it – memory, friends you can trust, love of learning… That way it will go with you wherever you journey. You’ll never lack for a home-unless you lose your head, of course.”

I have strived for that ever since. Shortly before I left for France a wise woman told me that I just had to change the story that I tell myself in my head. I should believe the truth that this is MY world, all of it, as much as it is everyone else’s. And last week I was struck by the realization that at least for right now, I am not plagued by the feeling of not belonging. In fact, when I feel alienated here I find myself wanting to go even further away: a one way ticket to France to walk more? A trip to Romania?

How amazing it is that what used to scare me is now where I seek comfort. And daydreams aside, I deeply want to do the more difficult thing and settle down for awhile and challenge myself to be happy and whole while dealing with the more common stresses of work and relationships.

I have purchased a one-way ticket to Guatemala at the end of January, but I don’t expect to be gone for much longer. Only a month or two this time, and then the more difficult phase starts anew.