Tag: America

The past is now

Last year I spent a month in the US for work. And though I did work, I also had the chance to explore the city of San Francisco. I made so many wonderful memories and pictures walking those streets. Each of which I cherish to this day and will forever. Every photo has a separate story—what I was thinking at the time, how I felt, where I planned to go next…

One of such memories is walking down Haight Ashbury. It was a glorious fusion of the modern world and the retro world that always brings a smile on my face. It’s one of my all-time favourites.

Haight Ashbury

Winding paths

Straight roads do not make skillful drivers.

The internet says Paulo Coelho said those words. I might add that straight roads don’t make for an enjoyable walk either. Winding paths contain a sense of mystery, curiosity, and expectation of the unexpected. That’s what makes walking twisted paths such an exciting adventure.

I was lucky enough to walk the Hoyt Arboretum in Washington Park, Portland. It has some of the most twisted routes I’ve ever seen, and although I couldn’t explore them all, it sure was worth the visit. If you’re ever in the vicinity, I recommend you start early.

Hoyt Arboretum, Portland.jpg

There’s no place…

Though I don’t do it enough, I love travelling. Walking from one place to another, ducking under trees, listening to walls, hiking steep hills, and gawking at great sights—that’s when I feel most at peace. Exploring, that’s where I feel like I belong.

Story of my journey

My first and only time in the US, everything caught my eye. And everything that caught my eye made me catch my breath. The largeness of it all left me gaping and wondering, looking up at towering structures and gulping down amazement. It was like living in a movie—with a dramatic, exaggerative story.

San Francisco

Fine and solo

I hate it when people barge in on me while I’m trying to get some me-time. That’s why I’m always wary of approaching others who seem fine at being alone. It so happened while I was waltzing off on my own in Alki beach, I saw a gentleman standing by the shore observing the coming and going of the waves. He stood there for a while in silent rumination about things I’d never discern. In a vast emptiness that surrounded us, for he and I were the only ones on the beach, he seemed oblivious to my existence.

Although I felt an itching urge to engage this man in an animated conversation, I refrained. I stood afar and watched him as he picked up a few shells, scrutinised them, and dropped some of them back. I never saw him turn around.

one in the crowd

Perhaps he had a grandchild who loved seashells, I thought as I walked away.