The final adventure of 2016: Sleeping in homeless shelters in Cherbourg

29/12 - I spent last night sleeping in a homeless shelter a couple of miles away from where I live in Cherbourg.

This was an unplanned adventure that spanned 22 hours in the streets of the city. I was fuming throughout, but at the same time I knew it would be a funny story in the future; It was the unlucky combination of circumstances that made this tale so shitty.

Here are some seemingly unrelated elements which joined forces to become a massive inconvenience to me over this time span, one worthy of documentation:

• I left with a light jacket and a scarf, over a T-shirt and a pair of gloves. 
• The three other people who live in the flat are not here, though I did not realize this at the time. 
• My American bank had locked my debit card, thus disabling my ability to withdraw cash; I have been using a credit card.
• My phone was dead, and I did not have a charging cable.
• Hotels usually close for the night at 9 p.m.

As you read this account, pay attention to all of the places where the aforementioned limitations hindered me. It was a perfect storm of lousy circumstances and bad luck, the kind of foul concoction I might never encounter again. But, also take note of the treatment I received from others throughout the night; They tried their best to help me. Those of Cherbourg have been friendly to me so far, and I have noticed that people tend to automatically switch to English when they hear me speak French. But, I still made myself understood in French, and that alone is an an accomplishment.

The act of traveling almost always calls for critical thinking, because sometimes plans have to dramatically change. You have to find where you will lay your head at night, as well as transportation; it's like a puzzle. But, last night my mind was constantly racing. What do I do? Where should I go? Who should I ask? Though I made some bad decisions fueled by alcohol, it still ended up fine. And now, in the warmth and comfort of my own flat, I can't help but laugh at myself and that situation. Repeatedly.

Finally, I kept a useful quote in mind from the infamous Jack Sparrow, because it would keep me calm: The problem is not the problem. The problem is your attitude about the problem.

It all stemmed from the fact I had left my flat without my key yesterday afternoon to buy groceries.

I decided to wait by the front door of my flat until someone entered or exited. I pressed each doorbell multiple times throughout this time, and I rapped on the windows. After several hours of this and nothing happening, I walked to the Irish pub in the center of town because it has free Wifi. I do not have a French phone number so I couldn't call anyone.

After a couple of beers and my friends being notified of my situation, I learned about the existence of an old lady who lives near me and has a duplicate of my house key. But before I could learn specifically where she lives, my phone died for good. I went back to the flat, thinking someone had returned by now (19:00). No one was there. By this point, more than a few colorful sentence enhancers escaped my mouth.

With the load of groceries in my backpack still a burden and after a brief time pondering a plan on a bench, I walked to another bar near where I live. I had another beer. By this time I hadn't eaten anything for about six hours. Under the inevitable influence of French and Belgian lager, the dark idea of violently smashing the window on the front door entered my conscience. I would NOT spend the night outside. So, I slyly deposited the beer bottle into my backpack before leaving the bar, with the intent of throwing or jamming it into the window pane. With the window broken, I would be able to reach inside and unlock the door.

Back at my flat around 1 a.m., I looked both ways for foot traffic. Nothing. All was quiet. Even the flat opposite me, where television light had been shining through the windows earlier, was dark. I focused on the door window again. I raised my arm as if I were Dracula pulling my cloak around me...WHAM! The cacophonous bang as a result of my elbow slamming into glass seemed to echo more than normal throughout the sleepy street.

I threw my left elbow as hard as I could against the glass three times. Nothing. I tried my right elbow. Nothing. I then resorted to the tin can of red beans in my backpack. As if I were wielding a knife to attack, I jammed the can against the window pane. Nothing, although the tin can has a large dent in it now. Since that didn't work, I decided against using the beer bottle because it was too light.

This is when I began thinking about where I would stay for the night. The temperature was dipping, and I knew I had to protect myself from the cold; my clothes were not adequate for those temperatures so I tried to sleep in a parking garage. It just got colder. I could see my breath. My next thought was to ask the police, wherever I could find a car (I had come across a police car earlier, but decided to break my window instead). Luckily, I found a police car after 10 minutes of searching.

In some broken English and French, they told me they could call a locksmith, but they only take cash. I said this was impossible as I can only use a credit card. They then drove me to a hotel where I could check in using a machine. My card didn't work. The officers looked perplexed and I just stood there helpless, with no idea what to do. They then drove me to a homeless shelter next door to where AS Cherbourg basketball club plays.

Luckily there were beds available, and I got a spacious room with a shower and plenty of blankets, along with a toothbrush, shampoo and towels. It was warm. The woman who checked me in and made a copy of my driver license spoke only French, but I could understand some of what she said, including when she asked if I had alcohol or knives on me. I was thankful to be in the warm; my immediate goal of finding shelter from the cold achieved.

After the sun rose enough to my liking in the morning, I quickly left the shelter and began the walk back to Cherbourg, on a mission to get into my flat. I knew it would happen. I was motivated. But the temperatures had dropped to below freezing overnight, and I was lucky to have found the police. As I walked back to town, a temperature gauge read 0 degrees Celsius - freezing point. There was frost on the ground, and the cold bit my unprotected face.

I visited the tourism office where the woman spoke perfect English. She suggested going to the police station. After some muddled conversation in French at the station (which was a short walk from the tourism office), I got my point across to the woman at the front desk and my address to where to send the locksmith.

When the locksmith arrived and let me into the flat about 45 minutes later, I felt a mammoth sense of relief, but my adventure was not quite finished. He then charged me 90 Euro in cash for minimal work, but since I could not withdraw cash he took my California driver license and told me to meet him in a couple of hours. In the meantime, I asked my friends for help, and fortunately one of them answered the call. After paying the locksmith, a relieved, albeit tired, hungry and thirsty me bought her lunch, my ordeal finished.

What a way to end the year, eh?

30/12 - It's the end of another year. I'll keep this post short, since I've already written a novel for you all.

I visited two new countries in 2016 (Mexico and Portugal) and discovered the joys of Chicago. I benefited from visiting a doctor in Tampico and experienced nostalgia in England, specifically in London and Poole. I found a new home in France, thanks to a wonderful opportunity from a friend.

I felt pure, childlike joy and bliss while riding Ducati motorcycles this year in California. It's a high I don't often feel; those rides left me emotionally drained and my voice hoarse. I feel the most free while riding curves of beautiful roads on a high-performance motorcycle.

But most importantly, 2016 provided me with a chance to rectify the mistake of moving back to Porterville by returning to Europe. This has allowed me to reset my life, so to speak, after a troubling time in the Central Valley of my home state. In Cherbourg, I have been able to learn every day, to think, to discuss, to read, to grow as a person. For that I am thankful.

For 2017, I will continue my ongoing and never-ending education, and it all begins with travel. In January I have a trip (halfway) planned to yet another new country (plural?), but it most likely will not be a happy venture.

This is the final post of 2016. I thank all of you for reading, following along on my adventures and evolution, and keeping in touch. Expect more in 2017. Cheers!

Discovering Mont Saint-Michel in the fog and my simple life in Cherbourg

17/12 - Activate your imagination.

Imagine walking on a gray, asphalt road surrounded by dense, white fog. On either side of the road (and as far as you can make out) is either ocean water or gray, muddy sand and silt, the result of low tide. You can hear the sound of gentle waves making contact with the supports of the bridge on which you stand. Fifty feet in front of you is totally white. The same can be said of your rear view. 

You keep walking. 

Besides the sound of water and your footsteps...silence.

Eventually, a dim, muddled shape appears in the foggy distance. A few moments later, one can see it's a parked car.

A couple more more steps and another shape materializes in the blanket of white, but this time it's massive. It's actually an imposing stone wall which extends into the fog on the left and the right. There is a gateway in the center of the path, in the shape of a fortress entrance. 

As you approach the entrance, your head tilts backwards in an effort to register the appearance of Mont St. Michel through the fog, including the abbey towering above the rest of the structures.

Mont St. Michel is a tiny commune perched on an island about half a mile out to sea on the south western border of Normandy and Brittany. It seems to be a religious mecca of sorts, as there are several monks who live on the island according to the tour guide. The abbey also extends as far back as the 12th century! 

Because of the walled, isolated character of this commune, I compared it to Gondor in the Lord of the Rings films. And if we had gone on a day that didn't feature dense fog, the views would have been incredible, but I was happy to simply be there. Mont St. Michel is a UNESCO World Heritage Site which survived attacks from the English during the Hundred Years War.

I enjoyed climbing the steps through the lower levels of the village towards the abbey entrance and listening to the tour guide's deep voice reverberate throughout the granite walls of the cathedral and other chambers. It was peaceful.

The lower levels of the commune are made up of restaurants, a couple of hotels, some bars, smaller chapels, museums and gift shops. It's quite a touristy place, and for good reason. It's a great place to simply wander around, up stone steps among a castle-like community and (in our case yesterday) feel as if we're floating in the sky itself.

18/12 - The road trip to Mont St Michel was a great idea, and I'm thankful to have met friends through Couchsurfing here. It's part of the reason I'm content with my life here. 

In my previous post about the trek to Lisbon, I wrote that I have been searching for equilibrium over the past several years. While I know it most likely takes a lifetime of reflection to achieve desired balance, I have noticed I am much more happy in my new French home. 

It has been two months since I arrived in Cherbourg. My life here is simple. I don't have a phone number, car, bicycle, motorcycle, more than 25 television channels or any bills associated with those things. What I do have is books in a large shelf which sits directly across the room from the couch, in both French and English, and two specific purposes each and every day: edit for Bleacher Report and study French at least 30 minutes a day. 

I have decreased the amount of alcohol I drink considerably and replaced the pint glass with a cup of coffee, most of the time being a latte or Americano. I do not miss spending money on beer. 

The more-frequent happiness and contentment in my life lately, I believe, is the result of simplifying my existence in a world where we're constantly being encouraged to buy something, to be a good consumer. It's not important to me. I just want to spend my time in the company of family and friends. 

Christmas and New Years are approaching. I will not make a New Years Resolution because if I want to improve my life in some way I will not wait for a certain day, which I have already proven. Instead, 2017 will be a year in which I continue my never-ending education, improve my French further and search for more knowledge that could help me find equilibrium. 

Light Bulbs in Lisbon

Before I begin, please keep in mind that my camera does not do the city justice. You all are being short-changed with these photos.

I will remember Lisbon, Portugal with fond memories because it is one of the most unique cities I've visited, and for its role in more self-discovery.

It's as simple as the fragrant smoke that emanates from countless carts pushing Castanhas (roasted chestnuts). The Castanhas are roasted until the shell turns white and brittle, and the nut itself almost tastes sweet from the cooking.

Lisbon's individuality comes from every single uneven cobblestone that makes up the streets, every intricate tile design that forms a footpath (which most of the time cause the sidewalks to form humps, cracks and flaws, thus making walking a challenge) or wall, every narrow staircase between homes that sit on the hills above the river.

The streetcars and trolleys that snake their way up these hills remind me of San Francisco, as well as Ponte 25 de Abril, the structure that looks strikingly similar to the Golden Gate bridge.

Even the hostel in which I stayed provided simple yet powerful moments, and they consisted of eating carrot and ginger soup whipped up by one of the cooks while mingling at the kitchen table with people from Australia, America, France, South Africa, Venezuela and Portugal, among other places. It was like eating with family!

One of my favorite moments of this brief trip was when my friend and I sat down for a coffee in a tiny, random cafe found after snaking our way down the hill using those staircases that make up the neighborhood. The walls were painted a cobalt blue and a green parrot in a cage near the register occasionally squawked. And in the narrow entrance sat a jug of Ginjinha, a liquor infused with cherries (reminds me of sweet cough syrup), to entice passers-by to consider the cafe.

Part of Lisbon's charm is how colorful it is, from the color of rooftops to the many examples of graffiti art in the more local neighborhoods. It's also a game to see how many hidden, minuscule cafes there are among the twists, stairwells, shadowy corners and outcrops. 

This trip was much more than shallow tourist traps. I see it as an extension of my ongoing, never-ending education. Before coming to Lisbon I had known little about Portugal and her people, but I am confident in saying that I know more than I did. Among my other activities was visiting the Estadio da Luz (home stadium of SL Benfica, one of Portugal's largest football clubs whose mascot is a bald eagle) and stumbling upon a modern art museum which featured the most cheeky work of art I've seen in Europe, because it is essentially the artist teasing everyone else with the prospect of an abstract thought.

This trip also helped me learn about something I have been subconsciously searching for throughout the past six years or so. Before I left for France, a friend of mine suggested that the reason I move around so much is because I have yet to find what I'm looking for; At the time, I had no idea what that could mean. After some deep conversation while riding a train in Benfica and reflection in the airport, I do now.

I have been searching for equilibrium. How to achieve equilibrium, though, is another question entirely.

11/12 - It was a long travel day, but I'm back in Cherbourg. As with any of my traveling, it's a bit bittersweet to have completed another journey. But, it was still enjoyable to spend an afternoon in Paris waiting for my train, even though my stress levels rose while navigating the sheer amount of tourists the city presents. They are like a wave sometimes, especially when I visited Sacre-Coeur Cathedral today. 

There were moments when I caught myself stewing with annoyance because that takes me out of the present. At those points, I breathe, and step back. 

The rest of the day was spent in the south-eastern part of the city, where I watched Arsenal FC, my favorite football club, in a bar that is known to support AFC. Many of the Gooners inside were singing and chanting. Great way to end the trip. 

Christmas in Cherbourg, coffee breaks and slowly improving French

29/11 - In my previous post, I recanted my statement about Cherbourg feeling like home because the language barrier was so difficult.

I wish to recant my recantation.

Like a badly tuned radio, the language is slowly becoming more clear the longer I am here. Every day I can recognize a new word on television, on advertisement signs, in town or when someone speaks. When watching television, I usually turn on French subtitles so I can understand more of what they say. It's a source of pride for me.

Coming to Cherbourg has been the best decision for me. It felt right over the summer before going, like it was the way forward. Several months later, and I can confidently say that was the correct thinking.

It has been good for me to reset, so to speak. It has been healthy to reflect, because I have grown from the past year. The change of scenery was just what I needed. It has given me the focus that deserted me in Porterville. Though I have a comfortable flat, I am enjoying living simply. I love walking everywhere I need to go.

I have made several friends so far and with my improving French skills, I feel like I am assimilating into this town already. It's amazing how beneficial being social is for the soul, like last night when I played pool at a local brewery with friends. I relish these opportunities to ask them about French.

One of my favorite things to do in Cherbourg is to simply sit down at a local cafe and drink a coffee while watching people walking by. At these points I speak to myself in French, describing what I see. I have written before about the importance about staying in the present, enjoying the moment. These uncomplicated treks to the cafe are perfect for savoring the moment, like truly and slowly sampling a sip of warm, bitter coffee during a chilly afternoon.

30/11 - There is a bakery across the pathway from my favorite cafe. While relaxing with my coffee today, someone from the bakery was busy cooking fresh crepes. Her station sat next to the normal shelf filled with various loaves of bread, baguettes, wraps and desserts; she made it look effortless. The aroma drifted lazily towards me and mixed with the scent of my coffee, thus intoxicating my senses.

I love living here.

3/12 - The Christmas version of Cherbourg arrived last night with the help of a large celebration. The town center and major streets around it now glow with neon-induced greatness. It's beautiful! There is now a skating rink in front of the theater and a super slide where the farmer's market usually is.

It's been a while since I wrote for the blog, but I've been working my tail off, both with Bleacher Report and studying French. I go to local basketball or soccer games, the movie theater, the grocery store, etc, and all of these places have helped me with French. 

This blog will get back to actual travel stories soon. I will find myself in Lisbon next week. I have had thoughts of planning a trip to Norway to see the Northern Lights in March, and Greece in January to visit a school friend. 

A purpose in France, future plans and Poole

3/11 - In my last post, I wrote that Cherbourg already feels like home.

I wish to recant that statement.

The language barrier here is real. It's no joke. Because I'm unable to communicate in French besides short, simple statements, it's difficult to meet people. As a result I've spent a lot of time by myself, simply thinking. It does get lonely here because of that. But, If there has been one good thing about this move, it has allowed me to slow down, step back and reflect.

In the months leading up to the move (and in the first week here), my reasons for making this jump didn't take much thought: I have the opportunity, so why not? That is, and was, painfully shortsided. Typical of my life, I didn't think things through. Dazzled by the chance to live in another country like a child entranced by a gift wrapped in shiny wrapping paper, I didn't think about what I wanted to accomplish. I didn't set any goals.

During my walk up the hill which overlooks the city earlier this week, there was a moment where I wondered about why I'm even here. What's the point? Is there something I'm working towards? I felt like I was spinning my wheels, stagnating. But then later that day, I finally realized what I should have a month ago:

I am here to learn French. That's the purpose of this whole adventure. Nothing else.

Because I am here to learn French, it dawned on me recently that I should be throwing my full effort into this. Every particle of my being should strive to learn French. In the words of Eric Thomas, when I want to succeed as bad as I want to breathe, that's when I'll succeed.

Unfortunately, I have never reached that point. It has been typical of me to take things in my life for granted: jobs, friendship, education, opportunities, health; I noticed today I have taken Bleacher Report for granted too, because I'm rushing through edits, thus missing glaring mistakes.

I have been a stereotypical millenial in that I have been handed things, and at times I feel entitled. I don't quite understand what it means to put in a full day of hard work, and then some more. This has obviously held me back, and I now second-guess myself.

No more. I cannot, no, I will not accept mediocrity from myself anymore.

I am supposed to be here, because this is where I am. It should be no other way. But, I can't help but think there is another reason for me to be here, but one that has yet to reveal itself. In time, however, I will understand...

Anyway...I am being too hard on myself again. This is an incredible opportunity to live in France. Within the past week, the trees have been losing their leaves and the air is fresh, crisp and cool. I sat down at a cafe today, ordered an espresso and watched people walk by. While listening to a steady hip-hop beat, I suddenly smiled to myself. I am doing something fantastic. I live in France. It can't all be bad.

In other news, I have set up a time when I will travel to Paris for a week in January for private tutoring with Marie-Amance's father Philippe, who is Canadian. We will study for an average of three hours per day, speak nothing but French and take excursions inside the city to practice. He already knows I have studied Spanish and German extensively, but he warned me that French will be more difficult than any of the languages I have been exposed to.

I have also finalized a visit to country No. 18: Portugal! I'll fly to Lisbon for a couple of days in December; the trip will be similar to when I explored Chicago in March. Short, but exciting. And, it's stupid not to take advantage of a round trip flight for $42.

I am still swimming several days out of the week, but that fantastic pool does get crowded at times; today the lane in which I swam had four other swimmers.

Since drinking four beers during my first night, I have yet to consume any more alcohol. I don't need to! It's kind of a nice feeling, and I am losing weight.

My time in Cherbourg has exposed me to one other first: using shaving cream for my face. I didn't know shaving could be so painless...

4/11 - I arrived in Poole yesterday via the ferry. This is home! Everything is familiar, right down to the deli in the harbor where I ate lunch, had a coffee and waited for the rain to settle down. 

While sipping on my latte and reading about the latest chapter of the Brexit nonsense in this country from The Telegraph newspaper, while also listening to British accents, I had to smile to myself again. I seem to gravitate towards places where I have lived in the past and have deep connections. For me, there is comfort, safety and familiarity in these places.

I could bore you with the description of an afternoon and evening of meeting up with old friends inside Bournemouth Square and some deep conversation, but the more prudent story is simply the ride back to Poole on the bus. While in the middle of the ride back to Poole, I felt a moment of nostalgia. When I lived there, the busses were my lifeline. How sweet and appropriate that I got the chance to ride them again!

5/11 - I'm back on the ferry to Cherbourg. There's nothing more to say except for one thing. Home isn't only 5,000-plus miles away in California; It's also a short ferry ride across the English Channel.

Until next time.

First week in France, language, football and staying in the present

22/10 - Since arriving in Cherbourg on Wednesday, I've had ideas for writing topics. The ideas stewed in my head, ready to be put into words. But when my fingers touched keyboard, kind of like right now, there isn't a hot, burning desire to complete the task. I run into a wall, and the effort of reaching that particular summit just hasn't been worth the effort lately. It's not because I'm depressed. No. I think it's less complex than that.

The move to Cherbourg simply hasn't been that exciting.

Cherbourg is basically the French version of Poole, England, my old home. I live shockingly close to the oceanfront and the harbor. I am within walking distance to grocery stores, museums, parks, soccer stadiums, outlet stores and an indoor swimming pool. The weather is just like Poole, in that it may rain in the morning and be sunny the rest of the day, or vice versa. I also expect the ground to be frozen solid in the winter like it was in Poole and Bournemouth.

And, of course, I live within walking distance to the ferry that connects to Poole.

The fans at the A.S. Cherbourg soccer game on Saturday night were dressed similarly to British chavs (think tracksuits), and they sang the same, unimaginative song repeatedly throughout the contest, until Cherbourg won 2-1. However, French fans seem to be more physically fit and easier on the eyes than the British.

There are plenty of shops, restaurants and cafes in the center of the town, and there is a farmers market on Tuesdays. Just take a seat at the "big fountain" and do some people watching. Just like in Poole, you'll see some seedy people.

The only major difference is the fact French is the primary language here. Therein lies the challenge of living in Cherbourg for a non-French speaker like me. For the first time in my life, I really am foreign. I'm living in a place where I don't speak the language, and that immediately separates me from most of the people here. I feel different, like another species. In some ways, I feel separated from the rest of this society because of my lack of proficient ability to communicate effectively.

Having said that, I have not once felt the kind of anxiety and discomfort I felt during those first few days in Poole, overwhelmed of the fact I now had a student loan to worry about and had uprooted myself so completely. I have not had that distressing what-the-fuck-have-I-done feeling. In fact, Cherbourg feels like home already. My jetlag dissipated quickly, and the loft in which I sleep, under two skylights, is delightfully comfortable. I already know more French today than I did last week.

Though I know more French already, I am still highly uncomfortable and awkward when speaking it. It is much more difficult to speak than Spanish, and there's a part of me that doesn't wish to butcher this complex yet beautiful tongue. This is because, in my opinion, Spanish words are read and pronounced similar to English words, and the sounds of the alphabet are relatively similar; in other words, when we read words in the two languages or speak them, we already know how the letters sound by themselves and how they combine to make a word. Not so in French.

Earlier this week I lost my cool simply trying to tell a grocery store clerk, "Je ne parlais pa Francais bien." In English, "I don't speak French well." I got flustered and felt shame afterward. But, in the days afterward I relaxed and do not feel as flustered to say a simple sentence in my third language.

This is my street. Rue Emmanuel Liais.

26/10 - I am still having trouble finding inspiration to write. I feel like Spiderman when he realized that just because he has superpowers doesn't mean he has to force everything else in his life to the side for the sake of fighting crime. He noticed his powers fading, most likely because he didn't have a passion for it, at the moment.

I took a step back with the blog because the passion isn't there at the moment. But, I have confidence that it will return, just like Spiderman's did. 

Perhaps it's because I'd rather not write about unspectacular, mundane, everyday events such as exploring my city, having coffee with friends or visiting the indoor swimming pool a few blocks away from me. Granted, that pool is incredible. It is on the second floor and has glass walls which have views of the harbor and the city, and the water is completely clear and has a proper depth. 

Writing about the pool, I am also obligated to write about the style of swim trunks I am required to wear. In France, trunks are short and tight...not quite "budgie smugglers" as they say in Australia, but so short that they remind me of short boxer-briefs. A pool official approached me after entering the pool in basketball shorts, and she informed me that next time I need trunks. But I digress. 

I do, however, want to write about philosophy. After discussion with friends and more reflection, I have realized that I am in Cherbourg for a reason. This is where I am supposed to be; it is no fluke. I cannot change that fact. It is futile to attempt to understand why I'm here. The simple truth is that I just am, and we are hopeless in an attempt to control what happens to us in life. We are careening along through life, powerless to the chaos of the unknown future. 

If we spend too much time attempting to understand why something happened in the past, we forget to live here and now. The act of comparison between one's own decisions and another person's actually hollows one's own situation. We made those decisions for a reason, and the only thing we can do is to simply accept that fact and move forward into the future. The past should stay in the past. 

So, I live in France. It doesn't matter why I'm here or how I got to this point; that information is irrelevant. What matters is simply that I'm here, right here, right now.  

French visa, eve of travel and lost passions

10/8 - As I stepped out the front door on Friday to go to the library, I noticed a familiar FedEx envelope sitting on the welcome mat. I instantly knew what this meant.

Momentarily distracted from my original purpose, I picked up the envelope with a growing excitement. My heart rate quickened. This was it. I had prepared myself for the possibility that my visa application would be denied. So, as if the French Consulate knew what I would be thinking when I saw the envelope, they had placed my passport into the envelope open to the page where this visa is found.

The visa is tinged with green, and my surly, unshaven mugshot dominates the left side. Finally, a concrete answer. I felt a sense of relief. It's official: I'll live in France! Outside once again, I punched the air, jumped into space and let out a loud cheer to break the silence of the neighborhood. And while driving to the library I let more joy burst from me in the form of excitable yelling and more cheers.

I leave for France on Monday. The idea is suddenly that much more real. I will use this opportunity to build self-respect, humility, vulnerability, work ethic and, hopefully, a more complete understanding of myself. There will be much more focus on self improvement this time around in Europe, but that doesn't mean there won't be travel involved as well. It will be stupid to pass up an opportunity to fly from Paris to Lisbon, Portugal round trip for $36.

In other news, I took the Foreign Services Officer test last week. If nothing else, I know what to expect for the next test. If I did in fact fail it, I cannot retake it for a year, so that will give me plenty of time to catch up on the reading ans studying. Discipline will come into play here. Also, in an effort to understand the job more, I scheduled an appointment to meet with the Diplomat in Residence of the Northwest in Berkeley. But since she was out sick, I spoke to her on the phone. The gig sounds fantastic.

10/10 - With just a week left in the United States (Shit, it still doesn't feel real), my parents took me on a road trip to Yosemite National Park to remind me of what I'll be moving away from. I haven't been to Yosemite since probably high school when I hated hiking. In fact, I'm a completely different person now compared to 10 years ago (imagine that?), so this road trip was a blast. 

This time in Yosemite we hiked North Dome, a 10-mile trek to the cliff directly opposite Half Dome. It was a stunning view, but the hike itself was deceptive. The first couple of miles were flat and easy, but the final mile to North Dome was steep, slick and rocky, because the only surface was the larger-than-life granite cliffside. I knew the hike would get much more difficult! 

My parents also took me to Hetch Hetchy Reservoir, a part of Yosemite where few guests visit. It was great how silent the lake was; next time I return to California I'd like to hike that whole trail around the reservoir. But this was another reminder of the features of California, and everything it offers. People all over the world would kill to live here, and sometimes us native Californians take it for granted. And as for Yosemite...how have I not seen more of it? Why did I never have the interest to explore it? That park is incredible.

13/10 - Not only have I lost the passion for sports writing, adding to this blog has lost its fun as well. It has become a tedious chore, a task born out of habit. It no longer provides joy or entertainment, simply an obligation to other people. 

It was pointed out to me today that I write without passion or emotion in this blog, essentially just documenting a chronological order of events during my life. So, I will step away for a couple of weeks in order to explore myself and what I actually want and need from this upcoming year and my life. Writing, obviously, is nothing more than a hobby for me at this point.

I currently find myself back in Visalia just a few days before the flight. It seems appropriate that I'm back in this area, the sight of recent revelations and reformations. During lunch today, a friend asked me, "Mike, what are you?" in response to me saying, "I wouldn't be shit without my parents' help." I pondered an answer for a moment. 

"I'm a recovering asshole," I said.

During the year in Porterville, I moved away from common courtesy, manners, etiquette, respect and empathy. This trip to France will take me back to basics. I must understand others before expecting others to understand me. 

Most of all, I need to rediscover the joy I once found in writing. Putting my thoughts into words used to be automatic. I used to be inspired to write by everyday life. Lately I haven't felt the strong urge to write, maybe because I burned myself out. This will be the final post until I become settled in Cherbourg. 

I'll end the post here. Suddenly, the story of my car being towed away in San Francisco while I was away for 20 minutes doesn't seem so important anymore. That isn't the kind of inspiration I need to reignite my love of getting these words down.

Call this an intervention.

Reflection

19/9 - Today was my final day with the Recorder. I ended it on a high note by apologizing for my actions and behavior over the past year. Through my reflection I've realized how much of a jerk I've been to some people, and I feel awful. Now is the time to make things right.

I'll move out on Wednesday. This neighborhood has been a great place to live. It's now time to leave. In fact, these final few days kind of feel like my final few days in Poole; it's bittersweet.

20/9 - It turns out I had to make amends with my roommates as well. They had been upset with me because I'm such a messy person who doesn't clean up after himself, and they had been looking forward to my exit before we cleared the air. Tonight we ate dinner together and enjoyed each other's company. Though this isn't an excuse, I could blame the fact I'm an inconsiderate roommate on the fact I'm an only child. I never had to share anything, and I always had my own room. Could it be that I can't read people as well as I think I can because of this?

Today was another day of reflection about myself, as well as making amends to other people I've wronged. As a result I feel much more calm and happier. The year should have turned out differently but it ends on a high note. And the biggest lesson from today is that I need to take all of the mistakes I've made and turn them into lessons to be used later.

23/9 - After reflecting on the interactions I've had with women in the past 6 months, I shocked myself by realizing how much of an ass I've been in almost all of them. How had I not noticed it until now? Several apologies resulted from this revelation; whether I hear a response is up in the air.

24/9 - I visited the French Consulate again on Thursday, but after giving them a letter from my parents, they now want financial information from them as well. It was annoying at first, but how will that help? Let's just get moving and get this new information.

Thankfully, to make up for the consulate disappointment,  all of my stresses vanished with an hour-long ride on a Ducati Monster on Highway 1. I hadn't felt ecstasy and pure, high-inducing joy like that since February on my old Ducati. It was incredible, a ride that left me feeling emotionally drained.

25/9 - With those apologies came positive results, which was quite pleasantly surprising. The ego must be shelved in order to move forward. There's a part of me that is disappointed this whole transformation and enlightenment didn't happen six months ago, but it's happening now for a reason. I have to accept that and embrace it.

With just a couple more days in Porterville, I'm ending this on a high note. It's the beginning of a new chapter in my life, one in which I am more aware of myself and my faults, and what I need to do to fix them. The transition for Europe will also be smoother because I already know what to expect.

Couchsurfing, San Francisco and an epiphany about Self

14/9 - One life chapter is slowly but surely coming to an end, while another begins. One passion has been extinguished, but a new one has been given life and is growing. While it was a mistake to return to Porterville, it certainly wasn't a waste of time. I'm constantly learning new things, both about the world and about myself.

One such method for this is through Couchsurfing. Over the past two nights I have hosted two sets of people. The first was Isabelle and Bruno, a married French couple in their late 50s. They're a pair or cyclists who have ridden through 55 countries and 75,000 miles since 2006. Both are weather-beaten and dark skinned, with their feet showcasing deep tan lines from their sandals while on the bikes. Bruno, a thin man who is shorter than I am, has long, gray hair which reaches down to below his shoulders. He wore short running shorts and a sleeveless shirt when I opened the door, and his glasses are unlike any I've seen before because the lenses are big enough to cover his eye sockets; they reminded me of Harry Potter's glasses.

Both Bruno and Isabelle have strong French accents and give off a strong hippy vibe, but they were a pleasure to talk to. They made coffee for me in the morning, and I shared some of the jam some of the other French Couchsurfers left me.

Last night I hosted Alex, a Russian who lives in Las Vegas. This was his first CS experience and highly enjoyed it. As he walked out of the door this morning to leave he said he felt like he had stayed much longer and knew us for a long time. He was a very talkative man, which I certainly appreciate. He was the perfect CS guest, one who understands the "spirit" of CS. He shared lots of his stories, such as helping organizing the ski and snowboard events for the 2014 Sochi Olympics, and he cooked breakfast, cleaned the dishes and brought me a six-pack of beer, even though he doesn't drink. Hopefully I cross paths with him again.

By hosting such random travelers, you can see how different everyone's story is. Everyone is doing something different, has a different background. Everyone, no matter where they're from, has something to offer and something meaningful to say.

As for the French visa application, the only hurdle left is to buy a return shipping label so the consulate can return my passport to me. The appointment is one Friday, and it feels like that appointment in time has been building up for more than a month. It has been a point which has been growing larger and larger on the horizon, something I've known is coming for a long time. So I'm looking forward to the drive into Daly City and then the BART ride into the city.

18/9 - Over the past week, I've come to the conclusion that I need to correct several personal flaws, some of which won't be easy. I'm highly undisciplined, I lack self-control, I'm not patient, I'm cynical and the way I carry and present myself to other people has to change. I must change the way I treat people, especially those who are older, much more experienced and clever than I am and who are willing and eager to pass off their knowledge to me. Over the past couple of years, I've become a disrespectful, trolling, sarcastic, selfish asshole. I've moved away from and forgotten the simple concept of respect. I haven't used the words "Sir" or "Ma'am" in a while, or even use "Mr." or Mrs." I really do dislike what I've become. So, I'll make sure Monday ends on a high note with the newspaper, and the year in France will be treated as an opportunity to look myself in the mirror in an effort to correct these issues. I will focus on finding ways to make myself a better, more respectful, and more disciplined, human being.

Anyway, I made it to the French Consulate in San Francisco after waiting for more than a month on Friday. I paid my fee for the visa and gave them fingerprints. They also still have my passport. But there is a hangup regarding specifics about my pay with Bleacher Report. The consulate wants to know whether I can support myself with that job, so I need to return next week with that information from B/R.

The most convenient thing about this snag was the fact I was able to walk exactly one block away from the French Consulate and enter the Bleacher Report office to get the necessary email and phone numbers for me to correct this issue and get the ball rolling.

San Francisco itself is an amazing city. I made sure to wear a sportcoat to the Consulate, and I felt I belonged. This was one of my first attempts to better myself, as I made an effort to dress myself in order to look presentable while not only at the Consulate, but in public. It made me feel great!

 

But since the city is so expensive, I chose to take care of my business there and then get on BART back to Daly City where I parked. The rest of the day on Friday was spent with a couple of friends in Pacifica eating Mexican and Thai food. It was during dinner when I caught myself being disrespectful towards my friends. As I was giving them a bad time, I found myself wondering why I kept going! No one was offended (as evidenced from all of the laughter), but I sent a note of apology later.

I took a seat on a boulder on the beach in Pacifica Saturday morning after my buddy left for work. It was here where I focused on how the waves broke along the shoreline, following the top of the water eventually tumble over itself which creates that roar of rushing water. It was relaxing, but also enlightening. As I breathed in the clean, fresh, ocean air, I was inspired, finally, to really change. Life is all about treating people as people first and foremost, carrying yourself well and, most importantly, respect.

My short time in the Bay Area was an invaluable one because motivation has been ignited within myself once again. I'll use that motivation to better myself over the next 10 months to a year, and it's an exciting thought. If all goes well, France will help me go through an evolution into someone much more likable, more disciplined and one who understands how people really should be treated.

Until next time.

Couchsurfers, swimming and Needles Lookout

27/8 - I'm officially in another transition phase of my life. I'm physically still here in Porterville, but my mind and heart have been long gone and can be found elsewhere, far away.

My time at the newspaper is coming to a close, as Sept. 19 will be my final day. I also registered for the Foreign Services Officer test, which will be Oct. 3 in Sacramento. And of course, I will apply for the French visa in San Francisco on Sept. 16. Luckily, Marie-Amance gave me everything I need from her for that process.

Like during my final two weeks in England, I'm thinking ahead. I know my time here in Porterville is closing out, and it's a little bittersweet. While I will say it was a mistake to return to the Valley, I will never say it was a waste of time. My time in Porterville has definitely been productive, and I have grown as a person. Like that dead-of-night thunderstorm over the Isle of Wight a year ago, I feel like the past year is already fading away into a memory. But since there is no weather here besides heat, a more appropriate comparison would be the cloud of smoke from a wildfire slowly disappearing throughout a week.

28/8 - I hosted Evgeny via Couchsurfing last night. He is bald with a beard, and his accent is thick. He lives in Los Angeles but is originally from Moscow, Russia. He's been in California for the past four months and said everything is much different to Russia, including how many oranges there are compared to apples. It's funny how a traveler makes you appreciate things in the states more, like driving habits here. Apparently people drive much safer here compared to Moscow, and the traffic in LA is better than Moscow. Ok then!

I only hosted him for one night. This morning Evgeny was back on his motorcycle on his way to Sequoia National Park, Yosemite and eventually Burning Man. I'm glad I had the chance to give him some advice as to where to go and what to see; after all, I'm a traveler helping a fellow traveler. I'm also happy to be his first Couchsurfing host.

One more aspect of my life that is going through a transformation is the fact I joined a health club which houses an indoor swimming pool. It's time to treat my body right and get fit again. Swimming as a workout is tough! It's easier on your body in terms of impact, but there's the fact you can't breathe freely like you can when running. I feel it's more fun than running as well.

One other benefit of the gym is the fact it's the perfect release of frustration that builds up as a result of living in Porterville and the Central Valley...

1/9 - The flight to Paris is booked for Oct. 17. There are only a few more things I need for the visa application and then I'm ready to head off to San Francisco in a couple of weeks for the appointment at the French consulate. I still need travel insurance and a couple of application forms. I got passport photos taken a couple of days ago, but they look more like mugshots.

7/9 - I've had a pair of French couples Couchsurf with me over the past three days. While it was a pleasure to host Emma and her husband because we exchanged stories discussed language and they helped me with my French pronunciation, Cieline and her friend arrived late at night and were shy. It wasn't nearly as fun talking to Cieline and her friend because they were so shy and quiet, whereas Emma and Antoine were outgoing and talkative. They also brought homemade crepes and jams and shared them.

Both couples were around my age and were traveling through the Sequoia National Park, Yosemite and around California. I'm happy to give a little bit of advice to travelers regarding what to do around here.

As for my own hiking adventures, I went to Needles Lookout this past weekend in the Sequoia National Forest. It was a short hike (4.5 miles) but it was at high elevation, above 7,000 feet. The draw of this hike was the fire lookout perched precariously on a tall group of rock spires which provides an awe-inspiring view of the surrounding mountains. Unfortunately, the lookout burned down some years ago but the stairwell up to the concrete base still remains. There is a gate which blocks the stairwell, but it's not locked. So, while carefully climbing the steps, I opened the gate and proceeded to the top.

The walkway felt sturdy for the most part, but it had that rust color on the metal, and I felt a small amount of vertigo at the very top, as if I'd lose my balance based on the sheer drop on either side of me.

 

With all of the swimming and hiking I'm doing, I feel refreshed. It's a throwback to when I was in Spain and Finland, because of the fact I'm using a sauna several times a week as well. I feel better, I have more energy, hikes are easier and I can swim farther. I also look better! So, here's to the transition phase of my life. 

Visa process, stolen information and California hiking

27/7 - I failed the test I took in Los Angeles.

The passing mark was 70, and I scored 65. Eleven out of the 26 people who took it passed. I'm not disappointed though, because I do not want to live in Los Angeles.

On to France. I need to visit the French consulate in person to apply for the visa, and it has to be at the one in San Francisco because I live in that jurisdiction. However, I live closer to the one in Los Angeles. My appointment is set for Sept. 16. This was disappointing because I want to get this process over with, and it probably means I won't take the Foreign Services test in Paris. But no worries, because airline tickets are still cheap in October, should I be issued the visa by then.

2/8 - The visa process is painfully complex. I need some 13 items required for the in-person application in San Francisco, including copies of everything. The consulate wants to see two months of bank statements, a promise that I won't engage in commercial activity during my stay (get a French job?), a letter of invitation from Marie-Amance as well as proof of lease agreement, the cost of the visa, some other application forms, my passport and the actual thumb from my right hand, among other things.

So between now and Sept. 16, I'm stuck in limbo. There is plenty for me to do to prepare for both France and the upcoming Foreign Services Officer test, such as learning some basics of French and reading books on the recommended reading list, but all of this is taking away from other aspects of my life. Something needs to give. If I'm not putting in my full attention and effort into something, I should just walk away from it. But, that innate fear of walking away is present. It's a huge commitment to step away, one that takes courage.

As for the FSO test, I cannot register for it until Aug. 23. On one hand, I'm glad I know all of these dates and ahead of everything, but I'm restless. I want to register and see where I take it. I want to get this process started! It could be the beginning of an amazing time in my life.

6/8 - I grew up camping among Redwood trees. I now live close to Giant Sequoia trees. Even though I know the immense size of these trees and enjoy showing them to other people, the sight of them never gets old. Sequoias are like those larger-than-life landmarks found throughout the world that are so immense they look fake. They are as impressive after they fall over because you can see the massive-yet-shallow root system. And when they fall over a trail and crash, it's an amazing scene. Chaotic and messy, yet awe-inspiring and beautiful.

9/8 - It appears I'm the victim of a form of identity fraud. Someone has somehow gotten my debit card information and gone on a spending spree. Luckily, they only spent $80 at a TJMaxx. I have taken care of the situation by notifying the bank and changing my card information. It's a minor inconvenience. However, I'm still annoyed for one simple fact. If you're going to steal card information, at least treat yourself to something nice. Don't go to TJMaxx!

15/8 - In total, someone stole more than $300 from my account. I got the money back, but I no longer have a debit card. This has been a minor inconvenience and something to learn from. From now on I will be wary of gas stations, and I'll definitely use more cash.

I've been going on difficult hikes for the past three weeks. This past weekend Spencer and I went to Los Padres National Forest along Highway 1 and hiked the Salmon Creek Trail. There was a total of 2,400 feet of elevation, most of which was in the first mile. That 8-mile hike was brutal, but beautiful. I find it funny how I loathed hiking as a kid when my parents dragged me along on day trips. I hated it! But now as an adult, I love it. I relish the challenge. They're also beautiful!

Saturday was also my first time in San Luis Obispo. This is the home of Cal Poly, a university several of my high school friends went to. I heard plenty about SLO, but had not been there. On Saturday I found out what all the fuss is about. The weather is cool, there are stores that aren't chains and the woman are drop dead gorgeous! I lost count of how many tall, slender, fit, beautiful women I saw in those few hours, and none of them had four or five children running around everywhere! It was yet another reminder of how shocking it is I still live in Porterville. I'm physically still here; my body can be found in Porterville. But my mind and my heart are long gone in different locations.

It was also another reminder how invigorating it is to not only travel, but to leave the Central Valley, if only for a day. I felt refreshed! What might have been a totally normal day in SLO, was culture shock to Spencer and I. We're not used to eating good food in cool, comfortable weather, appreciating the form and the curves of the female body. Porterville just doesn't have any of that!

Another day in Los Angeles, a new library card and the complicated visa to France

21/7 - I made the trek to Los Angeles yesterday to take the test for the Public Information Officer position with the Los Angeles Community College District. The office was in the heart of downtown LA, which would be a cool place to work.

This was my first time in the heart of downtown Los Angeles among the skyscrapers of the vast, smoggy metropolis. And just like every other time I find myself walking near buildings this huge, I found myself in awe. I'm a city kid, but not like this.

Since a school within the district will enjoy its 50th anniversary in January, the 2.5-hour test consisted of us writing two press releases about the event, writing a script for a video that would target high school students interested in attending that school and outlining the marketing and promotional plan for the anniversary celebration. I honestly have no idea how I did, but I'm glad to have finished. The first 30 seconds or so, my mind exploded and was empty of ideas. But, ideas began sprouting up here and there, and eventually the exercise became fun.

There were nine other people taking the test, all of whom were wearing nice clothes. And then there I was in a T-shirt with sweaty pits, denim jeans with dust and dirt from a recent hike and dirty Chuck Taylors. This is because, upon my early arrival to LA, I got the sudden and spontaneous idea to hike the hills near the giant and iconic Hollywood sign. I ended up at the Griffith Observatory after a two-mile round-trip hike, dripping with sweat but energized from going into the little amount of nature found in a cement jungle.

After taking the test, I ended up in the downtown library, another unplanned event. I exited the library with a library card and several beginning French language lessons on CD so I could be productive while battling traffic on my way out of LA. It was a brilliant yet spontaneous idea. That library is amazing, one that puts the one in Porterville to complete shame. There are more than six floors of knowledge there, though I didn't immediately find a couple of the books on the recommended reading list for the FSO test in October.

It was a short trip to one of the United States' greatest cities, but the day was filled with unplanned joys which makes for a great story.

In other news, it appears securing a long-stay visa for France will not be as straightforward as I thought. I need to apply in person at the LA consulate, which will be a month from now. Along with the application form, passport, money and photos, I will need what sounds like an invitation letter from my friend in Cherbourg, bank statements from the past two months, traveler insurance, and a letter promising I won't engage in any commercial or economic activity. I'm wondering how that will affect my online job with Bleacher Report.

And speaking of Bleacher Report, I learned earlier this week that the company will not pay me through a French bank account because of different tax laws and liability reasons. I'm thinking I will just keep my American bank account and use a credit card while over there.

All of this seems overwhelming, but I want to do this right. I've sent an email with all of my questions to the consulate which should be answered within three business days. I think everything will work out, though the process just got a bit more complicated. No worries. I enjoy the challenge.

Future career prospects, leading up to France and a former Ducati owner

9/7 - This is the twilight of my time in Porterville.

Subconsciously, I'm already planning on living in Cherbourg. I'm keeping my options open by sending out resumes, but the prospect of living in France seems to be the most real idea right now. Along with another career possibility, the way forward is clear. It will cost $110 for a long-stay visa in France (stays more than 90 days).

I want to chase a career as a Foreign Services Officer (FSO) with the State Department. This essentially means being a diplomat who represents the United States all over the world. I watched a video last week about the career, and I was in awe for a full 12 minutes. I saw myself in each of those people, and I very much want to chase that path. I was inspired.

The first step is to register for a FSO test. The next window to take this test is in October, so that gives me three months to study. I took the practice test last week, and with zero preparation I scored a 92; a passing mark was 100. Knowing this made me a bit more confident, but I still want to give myself the best chance possible of passing it.

This all fits in with moving to France as well. During the next testing window, I can take the test in Paris. The move would not interfere with this process, which will be long. The test is the first step, and there are nine in all. It'll be a long road for sure, but the most important thing that matters is that I finally know what I want to do with my life. It's too bad I didn't realize this when I was still in school, but it's better late than never.

17/9 - Goodbye, Ducati.

I sold the Ducati today, finally. While I took a huge hit on it, I still got a good chunk of money that will help with future plans, most notably France. That bike gave me some excellent fun, but it was time to move on. The lesson learned from being a Ducati owner is to do more extensive research on a make and model, including making sure I will be able to afford to maintain it. No regrets! I'll even have another motorcycle video in the next few weeks for you all to feast your eyes upon.

On Wednesday I will make another trek to Los Angeles, this time for a test that could lead to an interview if I pass. This is with the LA Community College District for the Public Information Officer position. I'd like to see where this goes because it's a good career opportunity, but the list of positive reasons to move to France keeps growing. But, if all goes well I will have a choice between Los Angeles and France.

One aspect of France that is so enticing is the fact I'll live by myself for the first time in my life. I have never not had a roommate. Add to that the fact I will live within walking distance of the train station and ferry terminal, and this is something that just seems right. I'm a traveler, and Cherbourg is the perfect base to do that. This is the way forward. It feels right, especially because of the fact I can fly to Paris from Oakland, CA for $265 on Tuesday, Sept. 6.

I have been in a much better mood lately and can tolerate Porterville. In fact I'm looking at the positives about the city again, which is of course the location. There are some good hikes just on the edge of the city and great people here. All of this stems from the fact I can now see a way out of Porterville; I will leave this place soon. Also, there are new people starting at work, so the stressful chapter is likely behind me, likely to be looked back upon and laughed at.

Finally, my parents visited this weekend; it's always great to see them. They even got the chance to see the ranch in Springville and meet Mr. Boo, Spirit and the rest of the cattle and horses that call it home. But most importantly, they brought me a handful of bottles of wine. Cheers!

18/7 - The first day at work knowing one person in particular was gone forever was excellent. The mood in the office was so relaxed and our spirits were higher. It goes to show how much the atmosphere and chemistry of a workplace can be improved by removing a cancer.

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).