Getting some traction with a motorcycle and enjoying the sunrise

23/4 - Finally. Some traction.

24/5 - I wrote the two sentences above more than a month ago.

Since those two sentences came into being, I have not had the desire to write; the fire just isn't there.

It's smoldering, as if a bucket of water were thrown over a campfire.

There have been reasons to write, sure.

• I have a part time job now that I don't hate.
• I found myself in the newsroom of the Sacramento Bee, in a one-on-one meeting with a frizzy-haired and foul-mouthed editor of the newspaper. The collar of his shirt wasn't buttoned, and neither was mine (though the rest of my suit was flawless). 
• I had a job interview at a local credit union, and I showed up 15 minutes early prepared with two copies of my resume, dressed in a suit and shook the manager's hand firmly.
• I skipped rocks in the American River with good friends. 
• I completed a road trip to San Luis Obispo to visit a former coworker and be the designated driver. 

But, I don't want to write. 

No more for tonight, at least.

16/7 - To celebrate being rejected for yet another job, I rented a motorcycle for 24 hours this past weekend in Sacramento and headed into the mountains with a fellow motorcycling friend.

The last time I rented a bike, of course, was during those five glorious days in England back in 2015. This time, I saddled up a 2014 Honda VFR800 sport touring machine. It was similar to the Suzuki SV650S I rode in England, but this bike had more power. It also came with two saddle bags, in which I stored my sleeping bag, water and a pair of shoes. It cost approximately $200 to rent the Honda for 24 hours, and that includes the insurance and rental of other equipment such as Snell-approved helmet and gloves.

The Honda VFR800 is the white bike. We parked our bikes off the road and behind a tree for the night. No one bothered the bikes or us.

Riding a motorcycle is an intense activity, one that requires constant concentration. It's mentally and physically taxing because there are so many factors that need your attention. All four of your limbs have to operate a different lever (shifting, front brake, back brake and throttle), you have to pay attention to imperfections in the road, and you have to ride defensively. After a time, though, you become more connected to the machine and every action takes less thought. Riding plants a permanent grin on my face and sometimes forces me to giggle and whoop inside my helmet which no one else but me can hear or experience.

Being in the saddle of these machines is the greatest high I can think of, one that is healthy for the soul. During my trip to Glasgow, Scotland a few years ago in a car with several other people and a dog, we found a quote on a shop window that was easy to miss, but it applies to this adventure:

"Four wheels move the body. Two wheels move the soul."

For 24 hours this weekend, the two wheels of the Honda moved my soul. If only for a short time, my issues and troubles melted away, ditched in the valley where they had no chance to follow (or keep up).

There was no destination in mind for this adventure. My buddy and I met on Madison Avenue in Sacramento, so we headed east on I-80 into Auburn and turned down Highway 49. We went through Cool and turned onto Highway 193 and rolled into Georgetown, where there was a large group of old, grizzled bikers with wild, gray beards outside of a bar, dressed all in black.

We turned onto Wentworth Springs Road and left most of the traffic behind, though we were still blessed with smooth, curvy roads. After a period of impressive views through patches of burned-out forest, we then turned onto Ice House Rode and eventually found our place for the night: Loon Lake. We parked our bikes on a turnoff right after the dam and found a spot on top of a rocky outcrop directly above the road on which to lay our sleeping bags.

We set up camp after all light had faded the night before. Tentless camping was a positive experience.

There were thunderheads in the area the night we arrived. I heard raindrops during the night, but it was short.

This act marked a first for me: Before this weekend, I had never slept under the stars without a tent. Both of us laid our pads on the unforgiving rock below us and placed our sleeping bags on top.

Surprisingly, I did not have issues with mosquitoes considering how close we were to the lake. Sleep came easily around 10 p.m., but not before I admired the bright crescent moon and the countless stars in the black sky, surrounding the Milky Way. I woke up at Dawn, greeted by the silent landscape of the still lake and dark, surrounding peaks like a loving partner would do in bed.

We had the fortune of watching a sunrise over the lake, and we saw how much it developed, changing by the second. Sunrays exploded every direction in slow motion, placing a spotlight on clouds far out to the west. The orange-reddish color of the early morning sun mixed with the purple and blue of the surrounding water and sky, and it set fire to the clouds closest to it.

This was taken with my iPhone 5. Sadly, cameras can not do scenes like this justice.

All we had to do was sit back, sip some instant coffee and enjoy the show.

It was a weekend filled with joy, peppered with bouts of giggling and a pinch of wonder. Twice I enjoyed skinny dipping and once I dropped the bike onto its side. And once, I made it back to the century mark on the speedometer somewhere in the area of Pollock Pines on Highway 50; the world travels by quickly at that speed, and nothing else matters besides the loud whine of the hard-charging engine and the feeling of a wide smile refusing to vacate my face.

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).

Travel, inspiring adventure and a shooting star

8/2 - Think back to a recent time when your heart exploded with pleasure, when you burst out in maniacal laughter and sported a giant, goofy smirk.

That's how my weekend went. I spent two straight days on my Ducati, using the GoPro to shoot some truly excellent video on curvy roads in the foothills around Tulare County. While the road southeast of Ducor was a blast on Sunday (at one point I reached a new personal-record for speed), the adventure into Yokohl Valley on Monday resulted in pure, childlike joy and ecstasy, and the kind of laughter inside my helmet that would get me arrested if I did that in public.

The day could not have gone better. The weather was warm and the sky a deep blue. I rode through green hills broken up by fields of yellow flowers; it felt like a Spring day. The road I tore up was devoid of traffic, straight in parts and curvy in others. Today, I was alone in nature, with the extreme pleasure of leaning into corners on a high-performance motorcycle and feeling all thoughts, stresses and real-world responsibilities vanish into oblivion.

While riding the Ducati is an extreme thrill by itself, the GoPro mounted firmly to the side-view mirror makes the ride so much more exciting because I can go back and see the ride from a different angle later. Hopefully I'll be able to edit all of this footage together into a second video like the one from Wales.

But besides lunch and dinner with good friends in Visalia, the final cherry on top was during my night ride back to Porterville. While roaring along in the blackness, I looked up and caught a legitimate shooting star streaking in the same direction as me. It lasted for about two seconds and was much brighter and faster than a flying craft. It sounds incredibly corny, but I think that shooting star was a sign of bigger things to come.

This weekend was another example of why going on an adventure doesn't need to be far from home. If you manage to uplift your mood to the extent I did, that's a successful day. These past two days show how a simple ride on a motorcycle out in nature is cleansing to the spirit, like kayaking on Loch Lomond on completely still water amid silence. That was the feeling of happiness, yes, but it was also the most free I will ever feel.

Needless to say, I was emotionally drained after that ride.

In other news, I'm set for Mexico, maybe Chicago next month, and a new trip: England. Kaichi High School invited me back to Brunel University in London to help a group of students get comfortable speaking English for a week. I got the time off from work, so barring something serious, I'll be in London again come June.

I'm slowly but surely gathering materials for the Coast Guard application and studying for the ASVAB. It's kind of enjoyable to take math notes again and learn about formulas regarding electricity.

My mother sent me an article the other day about how travel helps you reach your full potential. You gain so many new perspectives and meet many different people, but it's first and foremost good for the soul. It's probably, in my opinion, the most important person in my age group can do for themselves.

Today during lunch I told a friend of mine that taking out that student loan so I could travel and go to school ended up being worth much more than $50,000. All of those memories I have from that year are priceless. Taking out that loan is something I will never regret, which is something I did not think possible just a few years ago.

If you really have that itch to travel, there's always a way. It doesn't need to be expensive. During lunch today, I hope I inspired my friend to look more seriously into accomplishing her travel fantasies. If I accomplished mine (for now) then she, and other people, can too. But to do what I did, you have to be able to uproot yourself and go to a completely unfamiliar place, something not everyone can handle...

A Ducati, the Coast Guard, newborn cattle and a swim in the river

30/9 - I'm still on the ranch in Springville. I love living here and seeing the difference in moonlight each night. This is a perfect situation, except, I can't stay here forever. I've been looking for places to live in Porterville, but I'm being super patient, something I haven't been in the past. I'm being patient with looking for a motorcycle as well, something that is a little surprising to me considering how much I want one.

I recently looked at a Suzuki SV650, the same kind of bike I rode through Wales in June, but that bike had 29,000 miles on it; I'm looking for one with low mileage and a little bit more power. On Sunday, I believe I will have found a bike suitable for me. It's a 2004 Ducati 749 with less than 5,000 miles on it, and it's located in Bakersfield. The owner and I will meet halfway in Delano, and I have already started haggling, saying I have $4,000 cash in hand.

I've been at the Recorder for almost three weeks now. There hasn't been anyone complaining about coverage, and it's been great reconnecting with people and meeting new coaches. It feels so easy to me now, like it's natural. I haven't really been stressed out, even in situations where it becomes fine to be stressed. I can control only what I can control, such as how well and quickly I get my work done. I can't control when games end.

The ball for the United States Coast Guard has been set in motion. However, one of the recruiters advised me to hold off on the application for a few weeks in case I smoked marijuana recently. I guess it doesn't matter how much or how little you smoke. As the recruiter sternly said, "that stuff is bad." But I need to include some medical records that explain my heart condition along with the application. Because of that small hurdle, there is some small worry in the back of my mind that I won't be accepted based on that. I'm at the point where I really would like to see if I can get in. Over the past month or so, I've been focused on that, and in my mind that is the next most logical step in my life. I would be lying if I said there will be no disappointment if it turns out my heart condition prevented me from entering.

2/10 - As a form of rent, I've begun helping with work around the ranch. In the mornings I'll feed the cattle and horses. It's pretty neat to exit the house in the early morning sun, start walking down the driveway towards the barn and have the horses walking beside or behind you, knowing you're about to feed them. When the cattle see you walking they also make their way towards the barn. It's like a large meeting, and everyone knows what's going on.

Grunt work is a good way to start the day. In the barn I find myself rushing a little bit to feed all of the animals. The cattle are jockeying for position and being noisy, the horses stand to the side, giving you attitude and Spirit lurks just outside the front door, waiting for her bit of hay. But once the right amount of hay is in the correct places, the barn relaxes and quiets down with just the sound of chewing. There's also a large pile of wood that needs splitting and stacking. As a kid, I hated it. I hated everything about wood. Now? That work is refreshing!

There was a new calf born last night. It's the size of a dog and has trouble standing. In fact, it's so small that when Brent pointed it out to me in the early morning, I thought he was just pointing to the large cow keeping an eye on it. Later on in the day I saw it for the first time, thinking it was a dog, Beau to be specific. But it had trouble standing and eventually laid down right next to the fence with the same red-and-white cow keeping an eye on it. From far away, it looks scruffy. Hopefully I get a closer look in the morning.

4/10 - I got a closer look of it when Brent needed help driving the cattle back to the pasture closest to the house on Saturday. It's a female calf and it's so fluffy. It's still very unsure of everything though, such as where and how to eat with the rest of the herd. Like this morning, the calf was wandering around the backside of the barn and eventually to the side of the trough where the biggest members eat. While watching it, I saw it try to lick its hind quarters but lose its balance and fall down. When it got back up, it was standing too close to Boo's hind legs. When the large bull backed up a few paces, the calf got knocked in the neck and whipped in the face by the tail.

It'll learn.

That Ducati 749 I wrote about will be mine in a week. I went to Bakersfield to look at it, and the owner keeps it spotless. It won't be the easiest bike to maintain, but it has the power I'm looking for and should be a thrill to ride. But most importantly, I won't have to spend a fortune on gas anymore.

9/10 - The adventure never stops. This ranch is located in the perfect location for adventures to happen, such as hiking to the top of the very steep hill, following nothing but trails made by cattle until you get to the top. It's a small accomplishment to get to the top, where you can see the whole valley below as if you're flying over it, and there's also the possibility of going deeper into that backcountry.

The ranch is also less than 5 miles from the Sequoia National Park. Today I drove in that direction, not knowing exactly where I wanted to go or what to do. What ended up happening was one of those unplanned adventures that makes a day great. I ended up swimming in the Tule River by Lower Coffee Camp and then laying on a warm, granite boulder in the sun in the middle of the river. It was a fantastic, spontaneous decision. I also kept my shoes on my feet so I could walk upstream in the water, up boulders and small rapids. It's a great way to get to those large, calm pools where it's totally peaceful and perfect for just floating on your back.

But today was a representation of why I returned to Porterville. I'm so lucky to have friends who give me good advice and call me out when my ego gets too big. It's jarring, but refreshing (in a way) when someone points out you're being a little too arrogant or egotistical. It makes you take a look at yourself and step back. I welcome that and wish people around me would do it more often.

11/10 - As a final entry here, I'd like to mention two things. I rode the Ducati 749 home today. It's pretty powerful and will draw my complete respect. It's loud (which is good; people will hear me) and runs hot (which is perfect for the winter). Now I just need to get my own garage to store it (Thank you so much, Tamara).

With the arrival of the bike comes the resurfacing of my inner adventurer. I found myself tonight sending a Couchsurfing request to a person in Tehachapi. My plan would be to ride to Red Rock Canyon State Park, a small park to the southeast of Bakersfield. It looks really interesting in pictures and I'd love to do some hiking in the desert. What's good is this trip would be less than 200 miles so I could do it easily in a weekend.

Based on my history, it looks like I'm going to Red Rock Canyon State Park.

Uh oh.

Curtain call on the year in England

8/9 - Today was my final full day in England.

It was spent visiting with some remaining friends and completing errands a person does right before they move, such as close down bank accounts and return library books. I walked through Bournemouth square, along the beach and onto the pier, something I had never done before, knowing this would be my final time seeing this place, in the sunlight and in the foreseeable future.

I met my dissertation advisor on campus, and I realised again that would be my final time stepping onto Talbot campus. Of course, there's a sense of awe there, the knowledge you should cherish this moment on a university campus that was so embarrassingly subpar. My advisor told me two things: (1 This past year was the second cohort ever for sport management at BU; this means it's a very young program, and the four of us in that program this year were guinea pigs. I asked why we were charged so much for a program that had such obvious flaws. And (2, as far as he is concerned, my dissertation earned a passing grade. It just needs to go through a second marker.

This meeting was great because I was able to apologise for being a complete dickhead to him throughout the summer while I struggled to understand how to write a thesis. There were no worries with him, so my time with him as my advisor ended on a high note. There's nothing to feel bad about.

I also spent a bit of time with Coach Charlie. The Bobcats begin practice for this upcoming season on Sunday, so I just missed out on it. It would have been great to get a few practices in, but I'm satisfied. I can now say (truthfully) I played college football!

I had lunch at 7Bone with Viral and Sammy as a last hurrah. I can't think of another place in Bournemouth I'd rather go for a last meal. Those burgers are fat, juicy and absolutely messy, and they're perfect in every way possible. They're the complete opposite of typical British food, which is unseasoned, bland and badly cooked.

This year at Bournemouth University in England turned out so different from what I expected. It turned out to be much better than anything I would have ever planned for 18 months ago. I thought this program would be like a full-time job, allowing for nothing but studying and writing papers; just the thought of living in England made me excited back then.

Fast forward 18 months, and what I got was a program that was not only incredibly soft, but it allowed me to do what I truly love to do: travel. It allowed me to visit 14 countries. Because of this program, I lived in Spain for a month. By participating in this program, I had the opportunity to see Lionel Messi score a hat trick in person in Barcelona, ride a horse on the beach in France, take a motorcycle 721 miles through Wales and into Snowdonia, go on two road trips to the Highlands of Scotland and down to Genoa in Italy, host Japanese High School students for a week in London, learn new sports, meet new people from all over the world and learn bits and pieces from several new languages. I got much more than I bargained for, and to think about how lucky I am that this happened to me is a little bit overwhelming.

I can't help but think about what I'm going back to in California and wonder whether I'm making the right choice, whether I'm taking a step back and going to the exact same situation I was in before. But I'm also at peace with that choice because I know things will be very different. I accomplished everything I wanted to during this year, and a little bit more. Porterville will be different. I'll travel more, and I still have Kenya to look forward to during Christmas. After that, my future is foggy, one that figures to split into many different directions representing what my next life choice will be. It obviously got much more complicated with all of the places and people I want to visit, and it's very difficult to decide what I want to do next.

This was the most incredible year of my life, and credit has to be made to my many friends to who made that possible. I hope to do something else big and challenging with my life very soon. I also have to thank Dave, a former member of the Recorder. If he hadn't royally pissed me off during my first stint there, I wouldn't have decided "fuck it, I'm going to England!" So, thank you, sir.

For those of you who have followed this blog over the year, I want to thank you for reading. I hope it has inspired you to do whatever the hell it is you want to do. This won't be the final entry in this blog (of course not!) but it's the end of Europe for me. It's the curtain call for American in Bournemouth. The name will obviously have to be changed once I get back to California (American in America doesn't seem very catchy to me).

Salisbury, Scotland and taking charge

23/8 - It never fails.

Every time I get close to leaving a city, I make more friends and meet fascinating people, e.g. Joanna. She has great travel advice so I'll miss her. 

We took a random day trip to Salisbury on Saturday, and that included seeing the massive Salisbury Cathedral. However, I wasn't impressed because the Duomo di Milano has made all other cathedrals look ordinary. But it was still fun to go to coffee and tea shops and buy fruit at a discounted rate from farmers who were packing their truck for the evening. 

This is the twilight stage of my year in Europe, and it's bittersweet. I don't really want to leave, but I do at the same time. I took full advantage of this opportunity, and I go back to California a different person from the nervous kid who arrived in Poole on Sept. 13, 2014, worried about the distance from Corfe house to campus and the prospect of being in debt. The person who returns to California has been infected with the chronic sickness of insatiable travel and the need to explore this world. 

We made it to Glasgow, Scotland after driving about 460 miles. This'll be another wacky adventure, as this time there are four of us and two dogs: Rocky and fellow bull terrier Lancelot. They haven't met properly yet, as they have been kept on opposite ends of the car because Rocky goes all Rocky Balboa when another dog is near. 

But in the car it's me, Danny, Viral and Sammy. Since Viral is Indian, he's never had a dog before and doesn't know how to approach being around a dog. He doesn't understand the joys of dog ownership. Luckily for him, Rocky sat on his lap for four hours in the front seat while Viral awkwardly stroked his head and asked questions about dogs in general, such as whether some breeds are more dangerous than others. 

Sammy is from Guatemala and is a very quirky guy who makes random sounds and blurts out unexpected and hilarious phrases. So this means there are three people in the car who speak Spanish. Poor Viral. 

24/8 - There were challenges when Danny and I went on the road trip to Italy because of Rocky. Those challenges have multiplied 4.6 times with the addition of Lancelot, and it really has made for a quirky cast of characters on this trip. This is because Rocky is so unpredictable when other dogs are near, and there have been a few times he has become completely stressed out. 

When you visit Scotland, you realize how different it is to the rest of the UK. The Scots hate the English, and they take extreme offense when you confuse them with the English. In fact they almost voted in favor of independence from the UK last September with a 51-49 % vote. We were lucky we have some Scottish friends to show us around Glasgow, and you know you're in Scotland when you can only understand about a quarter of what your barber is saying during a haircut because the accent is so strong. 

We visited Loch Lomond today, and here it was demonstrated how difficult to decide on anything while traveling with a group like this. 

"What do you guys want to do? This or that?

"I don't care." 

Sometimes you just gotta take charge. So I decided to hire a kayak for £15 an hour, and that turned to be the smartest decision of the trip so far. It was thrilling to row across the Loch. It was soul-cleansing to row across completely still water in silence, to be splashed with cold water as one end of the oar went overhead. There were no motorboats, only the jagged hills around the loch, one of which was concealed in a cloud. For Viral, who had never used a kayak before, he was ecstatic because it was easy and fun. Who needs drugs when you have this kind of scenery in the world?

We made it to one of the islands in the loch, across from the village of Luss. We had it to ourselves, and of course because what else would you possibly do on the shore of a lake, we began to skip rocks. I have no idea how long the row to the island took (25 minutes?) but all I know is that it was immensely satisfying to accomplish something like that, aware of only how one end of the oar enters the water the most efficient way possible to push the kayak forward. It was something so simple yet so powerful in that you become awed by the natural beauty of the area. It's this kind of adventure you live for; this is what life is about, not sitting in a cubicle or working a job you strongly dislike just because it brings income.

But I was telling a friend today how beneficial it is to completely uproot yourself and move to an unknown location. If you're not scared by what you're doing, your goal is not big enough. 

25/8 - I strongly dislike traveling in a group, especially with people who don't get up and running before noon. It's so difficult and frustrating to be a part of this lethargy. Get your ass up and go.

27/8 - I lost my cool with Danny and Sammy on Tuesday. If you want to get somewhere far away, you have to leave the hotel earlier than 12:30 p.m. Don't be surprised that things are closed when you arrive after 6 p.m.

Danny's Scottish friend and Glasgow native Charlene went with us to Loch Ness, so I hopped in the car with her, hoping to get away from the other three. I'm glad I did because I was able to learn more about Scotland from a Scot, including why Scotland wants independence from the UK. We drove nearly 150 miles through Perth, Cairngorms National Park, the Highlands and eventually into Inverness. From there we headed back south and straight to Loch Ness. The Highlands are beautiful, as they're tinged with purple from all of the heather. And when the sun escapes the clouds, the purple and green colors are vibrant.

We stopped in a village about halfway down the Loch, and all of us stayed in one room. That's seven of us, and the management were OK with all of us using it, as long as the dogs didn't mess anything up. And since we knew some of the group wouldn't be ready for a while, Viral and I got breakfast early in the morning and then went for a hike. There's something greatly refreshing about walking through the woods during gentle rain that makes everything wet and smell fresh.

We drove to Edinburg and spent a few hours there, and everyone agreed it is a beautiful city. Luckily, it was easier to drive in the center compared to Milan, though still hectic. We drove to Arthur's Seat, a large hill overlooking the city, and when the car was stopped, I didn't ask for anyone's opinion; I immediately began to climb the hill. It was so satisfying to get to that wind-lashed top. It was a fantastic idea of Danny's. But after driving for 625 miles through curvy, dark roads perfect for a motorcycle while blasting house and metal music, we're back in Poole. I need to get this dissertation done and we had to return the car.

Viral actually drove for an hour in the middle of the night, but it was his first time driving in this country, and I suspect first time ever. He didn't understand which lane to drive in or how fast he should have been going. His driving was more effective for waking me up than Red Bull. 

And with that, the trip to Scotland is over and done with. We decided not to visit Ireland because the ferry was too expensive. The next time I visit, I'll hike the Highlands and go to the Isle of Skye; it looks otherworldly in pictures. If there's one thing I learned from this trip, it's that you can't control when others decide to wake up and get moving. If you want to do something, you gotta take charge and make it happen. Indecisiveness murders adventure. 

I found a quote during our stay in Glasgow that will remain with me forever. It's something that should always be kept in mind for an adventure: 

Four wheels move the body. Two wheels move the soul.

Charlene, Danny, Rocky, Viral and Sammy

Bath, grinding out the dissertation and a shrunken Earth

11/8 - It's dissertation time. It's my final assignment, so I should be focused on that. But no. It's me we're talking about.

I should have been working on it this weekend, but I ended up having a picnic in Bath and watching air balloons in Bristol with my new friends I met through that Couchsurfing meetup last week. We took the same road to Bath as I did when I rode there on a motorcycle, only this time it was sunny. I have to say, wow. That road is tight and curvy with lots of blind corners! The more I think about it, that was stupid to rent a bike and just go, in the middle of a storm as well. But it was the best decision I made this year; I'll look back at that trip with fondness forever.

14/8 - The dissertation is slowly coming along. I've been holed up in the same lab as Danny while he grinds away, editing his documentaries. It's good to be around people during this process. You're still focused, but you can easily socialize if you need a break. It's my final assignment before I'm able to disassociate myself from this money-grabbing school, uh, I mean "university."

Bill told me yesterday he went to his first AA meeting. I don't think he will completely stop, as in he will have a drink now and then (just one), but he needs to get a grip on this because he's a completely different person once he finishes three pints of beer. And now that I'm thinking about it, the British drink so much compared to other countries I've visited such as Spain. They make themselves miserable! So, being his friend, I'll support him and not bring alcohol with me when we watch football on Sunday.

I'm so close to moving away from the UK. I move forward with no regrets, and these past 11 months were fully taken advantage of. It's been an incredible year, something that exceeded even my own expectations. The best thing wasn't the traveling; it was meeting people from all over the world, thus shrinking planet Earth. If I want to go to India, I have friends there. The same goes for Thailand, Greece, Lebanon, UK, Central and South America, Africa and everywhere else in Asia. These past 11 months have ignited a traveling sickness, one that won't be cured. Ever. The best way to treat it is to visit more places and meet more people.

I'm looking forward to returning to Porterville, especially because I'm this close to snagging a 2008 Honda CBR1000RR for a fraction of what it's worth, which is about $7,000. If nothing else, I can flip it for profit. But just imagine: riding the curves of the Sequoia National Park with massive Redwoods towering over you.... The second go-round should be fun. Plus, there's a 25-year-old guy working for the Recorder now who likes to hike and be active. Plus, I'll get a raise from both the Recorder and Bleacher Report.

Bring it on, Cali.

Stretch run in Poole, Kenya and a new-ish job

1/8 - It's a bit surreal to be back in Poole. After a month and a half away, I'm back to what's familiar. In fact, the night I returned there was a fireworks show in the Poole Quay, and I saw it with the amazing view of my window. But after that long away, I learned something new about this area.

There are so many tourists in Bournemouth/Poole during the summer!

I'm back to the place where people drive cars everywhere. I'm back to the place where people love to be miserable, along with how dreary the weather is. Traveling so much has made me realize I don't really want to be in England anymore. And if a country really wanted to help its people get healthy, follow the Netherlands' example and build infrastructure for bicycles.

4/8 - It's the stretch run here in Corfe House, but that doesn't mean we don't have issues as a flat. Tim and I were gone for a long time, so that means the kitchen got messier and stinkier each passing week. Counters were caked with mess, the trash hadn't been taken out for weeks, there was food rotting in the sink and pots and pans were left sprawled on the counter while the floor hadn't been swept, mopped or vacuumed in a very long time. There are a couple of people here who literally don't clean anything. Domestic issues sound so boring after traveling and being away for so long.

Anyway, it's great to see my friends again. Of course I had a few drinks with Bill, went out to eat with Tim and met up with Danny and Abi to see a truly horrendous movie.

Tuesdays in Poole Quay are the day when hundreds of motorcyclists come and park their bikes in the harbor. It's a show of sorts. It's one of the reasons why I love living here in Poole. Walking among the countless bikes today made me long to ride a bike again. I was aching with desire while remembering that incredibly-stupid-but-supremely-thrilling motorcycle trip in early June. It put a smile on my face. I'll ride again soon; I just need to get away from school!

Hundreds of motorcycles come to the Quay on Tuesdays.

5/8 - I keep getting sucked into the community, just like what happened in Porterville. Like in Leiden, Netherlands when I went to a Couchsurfing meetup and met some really cool people, I did the same in Poole today. I met Nigel, a man who works for the Poole Borough Council involving Transportation, and another woman from Romania, Joanna, who had some amazing travel stories. I was particularly fascinated by her adventure on the Trans-Siberian Railway. It sounds as if you'd be well-served to learn some Russian to undertake that adventure, and if you stay on the train day and night from Moscow to Beijing, it takes seven days. That's an epic journey, and it's one I would absolutely do in a heartbeat.

Danny and I agreed on June 2016, but that happened over drinks so of course it's not binding.

This goes to show no matter how close you are to moving, there's always time to meet new and fascinating people.

6/8 - It's official. I'm going to Kenya. I'll leave Los Angeles on Dec. 21 and arrive in Nairobi on Dec. 23. This will be the longest I've ever traveled. Two eight-hour flights and a couple of layovers in Ireland and Ethiopia will create one massive marathon, one in which I'll have to find new and exciting ways to pass time. This will be my first trip to a third-world country and one in which I'll be in the minority by my skin color. It'll be my first trip to a continent that isn't North America or Europe. The culture will be incredibly different, but the food will be so delicious (at least I hope so). Stella and her family will host me.

Finally, some of you already know by now, but I landed a permanent job. I'm going back to the Porterville Recorder in California. I'm looking forward to it as I'll be able to jump in right away and do the job right. I can't wait to see my old friends from there, and most of all do some work on the ranch. But this time around, I'll do some things differently. No Twitter mishaps or incorrect reporting (as best I can). Early in my time in England, I often thought about what it would be like if I never left. Now I'll be able to find out.