Intermission

My return to San Francisco was not initially part of my travel plan. As it turns out, one cannot really fly from Thailand to Guatemala. You have to fly through Los Angeles. Since that is so close to home, it seemed logical to pop back in for a visit. Also, as a bonus, that created a round trip flight from SFO to BKK which is cheaper than a series of one way flights. So it was a no-brainer. And here I am.

At the beginning of my trip I wondered if it might be a bit strange to go from the backpacking lifestyle back to home life for a few days. Could all that time spent decompressing from reality on the beach and on the road vanish just by dunking myself back into it?

Well, yes and no. My return means dealing with personal business such as tax preparation, and fine tuning some financial issues and living situation back home. This, combined with the inevitable onslaught of requests to get together, brings on a modicum of stress. But overall, I am so glad to be back in my favorite place with my favorite people that none of that matters. This is a major bonus in my trip. I have, at times, missed home, and this "fix" of home life is just what I needed.

As soon as I emerged from the BART train into the Mission District neighborhood after my airplane arrived, I was immediately struck by the familiar sights and sounds. A black transvestite in red striped tights and black leather singing and skipping across the intersection, a sleazy liquor store blasting really good jazz music out to the street, a jovial conversation with the bus driver on the way up the hill to Oak Street. It all gave me a rush of comfort and joy (no relation to the Burning Man camp with the same name).

I get a chance to give my clothes a good laundering, swap out some items in my pack, and get some face time with my family of friends for whom I have developed a fresh appreciation after some lonely days on the road.

Some folks I have spoken with while traveling have indicated that they are dreading going home and stay out as long as possible to avoid the inevitable return. I pity them a little bit for that. And although no one really likes to go back to work, I'm glad I don't feel that way.

I love my home. It's good to be back.