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.