Being back in the Bay Area is a slap in the face of nostalgia and memory.
I am a reflective person yet, not prone to regret.
It is amazing being back here again as, until recently, I’ve always considered San Francisco my “home”. I had never lived in any one city for longer than a few years (being a military brat) and once I had settled in the Mission, I thought I would never leave.
Portland had its allure. I spent a few months living through a winter in a converted barn in North Portland in a short term apartment swap. I remember sitting down on one particularly wet afternoon and writing out a list of long term goals. Most of them involved cycling and trying to lead a life that was sustainable, start a business (outside of the capitalist structure) or something. Things that were mere fantasy at that point. But, I realized that I would not be able to do them in San Francisco and I decided to try my luck in the NW.
I officially moved to Portland in 2001. After 8 years, Portland is my home but, San Francisco feels just as much home as Belgium does. Or Portland, for that matter.
The weather is nice and I want to move back. We spent an evening with new friends eating whore’s pasta and chocolate. An ex-New Zealand VTT champ entertained us with stories and Adnan and Kevin scared off the ladies with “too much bike talk”.
Waking up in Sausalito to a view of Tiburon and the Bay is pretty bad ass. So is the hill we have to climb up to get back to the flat.
There is a familiar scent here. Something in the air, the ocean mixing with pine. A lightness.
We took a spin and will be heading down to Santa Cruz for a few days of riding tomorrow.
Reservations at a fancy restaurant in the city tonight.