pre-Asia

I've been waking up early, not of my own accord, the past few days and I feel anxious about leaving for Asia very soon, in a matter of hours. I'm really sleepy, but thought wins the battle over fatigue. I wanted to think about the past year before I travel, because I think post-travel SF will be different from pre-travel SF. It's been good to me. I waver between talking about it generally because I'm a little weary from ending things, and talking about it with some more shape because I might see it differently now than in five weeks when I return.

As amazing as I know it will be, going to Asia and heading into this personal and physical transition makes me aware of finishing the year here. The more transitions I experience, the more I realize how much they stand on their own, even as they flow into before and after.

I will miss so much about my life here. I worked up until the day I'm leaving, and I'm sad to leave a place where I learned a different kind of responsibility and day to day routine. I became competent at my job, and I had a good though stressful time finishing things up and training the summer person. I'll miss the organic thought, as well as the concrete procedures.

San Francisco is half my true love, my counterpart to New England. Because of the drives between SF and Fremont, as driver and passenger, I've grown less weary of bridges. During one moment when you're on the upward slope it becomes all water to your sides, and your rearview mirror reflects the ocean behind, so you're surrounded. Then the city peaks up in front of you, more and more until your car is level again.

I love my street and my neighborhood and my apartment. A blue preschool with handprints in the window marks the corner of my block where I turn right onto 10th Avenue. The houses stick together, distinct through their odd colors, differing balcony and window designs, and random shapes on their exterior (in my case, trapezoids). I have Mount Sutro from my brothers' windows and the peaks of Golden Gate and sunset from the right window in my living room. I have a long hallway, a closet with folding shutters, and wallpaper in my kitchen and bathroom. Ocean Beach is a long straight walk in one direction, and Baker Beach holds the Golden Gate in its sand like a sturdy lightweight Lego structure.

I've soaked in days of roaming, of polaroid pictures, of steps and hills, of food food food and delicious company. The fullness of days full of nothing really. Something about the mixture of sun and fog is conducive to this haze, but the crispness keeps you cold and aware of your skin. Houses sit next to restaurants; Irving Street is multipurpose for errands and food and shopping and quirks and people; a million distinct neighborhoods are compressed in this seven by seven mile place but feel expansive.

The sleep deprivation makes it hard to know what I want to say at this moment. I want to hang on to something because I know this trip will be wonderful and challenging and it will give me new feelings and I want to remember the feelings of now.

So, what do I feel now?
-Love for this small big city, in the way that you love things you feel you are and want to be.
-A scared excitement for what comes after Asia: newness. A new thing, new people, new school, new city. Yes, an old coast and old structure, but the new dominates.
-Gratitude for all the things the people in my life give me, for the ones who are still there. How each one offers something valuable that makes it natural to give back.
-Some pride in a year's work and some disappointment for lack of time to tie loose ends. Glad for the real and more vague things I learned about work, scientific thought, patients, disease, jobs well done, after-work dinners and nights.
-A fierce determination to meet the challenges of this trip which include, among many things: not fighting too much with my brother and renewing aspects of our past closeness while understanding our newfound differences; travelling alone and exploring well and growing from the solitude; winging substantial parts of the journey; completing rough parts like climbing Mt. Fuji or our two-day boat trip to Laos; surviving the backpacking; relishing the rainy season. And most of all, to take this time to do this at once: look at what's come before and what's to come, and to be away from all of that.

So I'm off, but I'll come back.