Poole, Cherbourg, Paris and a close call at Heathrow

23/6 - Poole was a pleasantly familiar place. And since it's relatively small and compact, you run into people on the street quite often, such as Bill. It was fun to catch up with old friends, such as Joanna and Tim. The three of us went out for dinner and drinks, which felt like old times.

Every Tuesday during the summer in Poole, hundreds of motorcycles descend upon the Quay and park in one spot, creating a mass of two-wheeled machines. It never fails to make me envious seeing those bikes, knowing the kind of roads around Poole riders must use to get there. It was a complete coincidence I arrived in Poole on Tuesday, but I certainly don't regret it.

I hopped on the ferry to Cherbourg yesterday morning, another familiar practice. It was foggy and damp in Poole, which was typical English weather. But just like flying, riding the ferry gave me a sense of purpose and accomplishment. Travel in general does that for me.

In Cherbourg I met up and stayed with another former Couchsurfing friend: Marie-Amance. She once again collected me from the ferry terminal in Cherbourg and gave me the key to her flat because she had to return to work for a few hours. Her flat looked just as I remembered it: tiny, cramped kitchen, steep, spiraling staircase that blocks the closet, the second-floor living room and her room on the third floor. It was during these few hours in her flat by myself that were some of the most relaxed I was since coming to Europe last week. It was total bliss to read my book while listing to gentle rain through the wide-open window on the second floor.

Later that evening, Marie-Amance returned home and proceeded to cook dinner out of what little food she had around the kitchen. She made a casserole with tuna, tomatoes and olives, and crepes for dessert along with different jams, syrup and sugar. We spent the evening enjoying the crepes, the conversation and discussing other matters, one of which blew my mind.

Since Marie-Amance will go to England for a year to study at university, she offered to let me stay in her flat for 200 Euros a month while she's gone. That's an incredible opportunity, nevermind the fact I don't speak French or am illegal to work in France. The big question is whether I'd be able to survive there. What would I do for a job if I don't speak French? But, it would be a great opportunity to learn French in a small-ish town in the north of France. It would present some massive challenges, but I'd like to see if I could handle those difficulties.

Cherbourg is a small city, and one with not a lot of opportunity in terms of work, even for French citizens. But it's a quiet, calm place filled with the scent of sea water and the squawks of seagulls. It also has a certain charm to the look of the city. I could see myself living there, but there is much research and thought to be done about that decision.

I went to bed that night in the flat listening to the thunder and heavy rain of that storm, seeing the flashes of light and feeling Marie-Amance's friendly black cat snuggle up next to me on the bed. It was a peaceful moment; in fact, my time in Cherbourg felt safe and familiar, and it was one of those times I made sure to appreciate being in the moment.

After leaving Cherbourg this morning (Thursday), I rode the train three hours to Paris and immediately met up with Magda, my friend from Bournemouth University. This is our second time meeting in Paris, and we also crossed paths in California at the end of last year. Magda lives in a house (more like a mansion, really) in Croissy Sur-Seine, a suburb on the west side of Paris. The home is obviously old, but it's a beautiful place, with three floors and a basement. There is a wide space on the roof to sunbathe during the day and drink under the stars at night.

The tip of the Eiffel Tower can be seen at night, thanks to its revolving spotlight. So with the spotlight periodically shining our way and a near-full moon lighting up the sky above the glow of Paris, I had a short but meaningful conversation with Magda and her roommates on the roof on Thursday. Since the attacks in Paris, people seem to be more aware of their surroundings. I heard stories of people looking others in the eyes while riding the metro, suspicious of who might be the next person to murder others. Just walking around Paris and the metro, and one can see soldiers with assault rifles patrolling metro stations or security guards armed with metal detectors guarding entrances to shopping malls. But, Paris is still a thriving, alive metropolis, a place I'd greatly love to move to.

It's adventures like these that cannot happen in hotels while traveling. I am immensely thankful to have friends in all of these places who are happy to share their homes for a night. I am lucky to be able to stay in these areas and feel so familiar with the cities.

25/6 - It wouldn't be a normal travel day back to Porterville without drama for me. No step went smoothly, starting in Paris and being squashed in rush-hour traffic on the metro. Then, my passport was retained and I was detained in a side area, again, by the UK border patrol before boarding the Eurostar train from Paris to London. It all has to do with the UK student visa; I must find a way to get it out of my passport.

Fortunately they let me through, but the actual train was an hour late by the time we arrived in London at St. Pancras. With the hour-long tube ride into Heathrow, this meant I had about 90 minutes to check in, get through security and find my gate. Luckily, I checked my bag about three minutes before the cut-off time of one hour before the flight. Talking to the lady at check-in revealed she loves this kind of thrill and adrenaline rush as well.

After getting through light security, I got a bite to eat before going to the gate. However, I misjudged how far my gate was, which was about 15 minutes away on foot when I had just 25 minutes before the flight left. So with my passport in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other, and a heavy backpack, I sprinted the way to my gate. I had never had that close of a call with a flight, besides the time I completely missed my flight from Barcelona.

To top it all off, when I got onto the plane I found out the flight was delayed by about 50 minutes. You can imagine the surge of annoyance I experienced for making that kind of effort, all for naught.

Currently I'm about 30 miles from Bakersfield, CA, my adventure almost complete. I have never, and will never, regret traveling. It always ends up memorable in some way. Here's to the next one (though I have nothing planned for the future).

Mexico, cheap food and happy people

18/5 - Buenos dias desde Ciudad de Mexico! Good day from Mexico City, Mexico!

With the exception of being harassed by a CHP officer in Los Angeles while stuck in stop-and-go traffic on Highway 405 because I was both looking at my phone and driving without a bumper, my trek so far into Mexico City has gone by relatively smoothly. I'm just very tired, having started my journey at 5 a.m. I started writing this blog at 11 p.m. local time.

I flew from LAX after driving to Los Angeles and parking my car in an airport parking lot. I first stopped in Guadalajara, and from there to Mexico City. I have about eight hours to kill in the Mexico City airport before my flight to Tampico in the morning. It's one of those long travel days and my eyes are heavy while writing this.

I used a Mexican airline called Interjet, which is about 10 years old. After two flights and several hours on their planes, it's safe to say Interjet is my favorite airline. Every seat has the kind of legroom that comes with the emergency exit seats on other airlines, neither plane was filled to capacity and alcohol is free, even on flights that last less than an hour! Those Latinos really know how to fly! This all added up to a very relaxing and stress-free flight experience.

But after taking off from Guadalajara and gazing out the window at the criss-crossing grid of lights, it hit me how going on an adventure and traveling relaxes me and makes me feel like I'm accomplishing something. This is me in my element. It's such a welcome relief from the recent stress and anger to hop on an airplane headed for a new place; it does wonders for the soul.

When I step onto an airplane, my real-world responsibilities, issues and and stress never gets past the gate, and I am sincerely grateful for that. I appreciate the fact I can escape everything, if only for a little bit of time.

20/5 - Tampico has a tropical climate. It's warm and humid as hell, like a greenhouse full of tropical plants. It's sticky! When my friend Diego picked me up from the airport and we stepped outside, it was a little jarring to go from air conditioned, 72-degree comfort to hot and humid air that is thick to breathe. This is the kind of place where it's best to move slowly, or else you'll drip with sweat even more.

There are iguanas that make their homes next to the lake where crocodiles lurk, sometimes sunning themselves with their mouths open. Perhaps that's why a steel fence separates the walking path from the water!

Tampico is known as Mexico's first sea port, and when flying one can see how swampy the surrounding land is. It's not an environment I'm used to, and I've been drenched in sweat consistently since coming to Tampico. 

The city has also had issues with drug cartels in the past, around 2012. Diego said the local police were disbanded and replaced by the Mexican government. Sometimes you can see a truck patrolling the area with a 50-caliber machine gun bolted to the roof. But now it seems like a safe place judging from how lively downtown is. 

It's a bit of a throwback to drive down the street and see four or five people riding in the bed of a truck; I haven't seen that in many years. While crossing the street on foot, there are no signals; you just need to keep an eye on the traffic to make sure you won't get hit. And when taxis are free, they randomly honk their horns to attract attention. There are also taxis that have specific routes, like a city bus. They just pick you up on the route and you can get off whenever. 

I'm staying with Diego and his family. They live next to each other in two houses along a canal, close to the lake and within walking distance to downtown. The houses, like the rest of the neighborhood, are a bit run-down and overgrown. It feels a bit sketchy at first, but it's a relatively safe neighborhood in which everyone knows each other because they've lived there for so long. And simplicity is the best practice, right down to the pipe that simply sticks out of the shower wall; it's just like standing under a garden hose while taking a shower!

We spent the day today eating Tortas de la Barda and relaxing at the beach with beers and shrimp cocktail. Another great thing about Mexico is that it's cheap. A beer costs $1.50. But on the other side, I understand why so many people want to work in the USA and then send money back to Mexico.

22/5 - At a small food cart yesterday, I saw the guy was offering three hamburgers for five pesos. At the bar with Diego's brother in law, we had four beers apiece, peanuts and several small plates of food. About $10 total for everything. The low cost of everything is blowing my mind but after Diego said it's the cost of living here, I sobered up a little bit. It's a struggle to live here and make a living, when one peso is almost worthless. I need to be thankful I live in the states where the dollar is so strong. I may live like a king here, but it would be much different if I lived and worked in Mexico.

But, because everything is so cheap, that means I can live it up. I'm really enjoying that! I'm used to overpriced food and drink in the USA and Europe, but it's dirt cheap in Latin America.

Anyway, today is the birthday of Diego's mother, Rita. The whole family will be here and there will be lots of food of course. I'm seeing how simply this family lives and how happy it is. Everyone loves to laugh. I've already been invited to a quinceañera in a few years, and I think people are expecting me to return.