Tag: travel planning

A visit to the Golden Gate Park

When I was in Pleasanton, my friend and travel partner took a weekend off for Chicago to meet with her friend. That gave me two whole days for myself. And what else would I do than explore the city of San Francisco?

Although I’d hit a lot of popular places the last time I was there, I missed on one important monument: The Golden Gate Park. So I went there that Saturday morning.

The moment I entered the park, a smile came on to my lips—a bunch of kids skateboarded on the street leading to the park. It was a pleasant sight, for I had never seen such effortless skateboarders on street without being afraid of getting hit by a car. In fact, it was the first time I walked without the fear of motorists.

Before going further, I calculated how much time I should spend in the park. Little did I know then how big the park is. My first stop was the Botanical Garden. As I paid for my entrance ticket, the gentleman at the counter handed me a map of the garden and informed me that the 55 acre-garden hosts plants from all over the world. My heart skipped a beat as I heard the number—there was no way I’d cover all of that within the time I had planned. With a skeptical mind, I stepped into the garden.

The entire garden was categorised by region. On my right was Australia and to my left was South America. I went by what was right by me. The deeper I went into the garden the more fascinated I became of the plants. Time came to a stand still and I no longer worried about rushing off to the next place. The scent of living, breathing, greenery convinced me to linger in its essence and absorb the goodness it emancipated.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

I walked along from region to region, stepping over Peru, walking through the Andes, and swerving around Africa. I stopped at the Redwood Forest and went round and round in search of the Moonlight Garden before realising I had already been there. Name cards lined each plant and tree but none made sense to me. I was no Botany student, and I didn’t know the medicinal values pertaining to the plants. I was, instead, a backpacker, a nature lover, a passionate greenery-seeker who was more than happy to stand amidst teak woods a hundred years old. I cherished the feeling of past, present, and future life all around me. I felt elated.

Somehow it seemed unbelievable that people would flock to such a tree abode when they could be elsewhere doing something else. What I loved most about the garden was the lack of people. Even though there were many explorers like myself, the garden was so huge that I seldom came across them. Although the Botanical Garden was meant as a place to appreciate wild in its wilderness, I realised that garden authorities had to do something for people to visit. That’s why the Botanical Garden has special clearings, tree stumps, and benches—so that people could pose with plants. Perhaps the authorities thought that would be a way to attract more visitors. At least that’s how it seemed to me.

Whether or not the tactic works, it also seemed to me a little pathetic. It’s sad that we have to resort to such measures to appreciate nature. It’s sad that there aren’t many people who’d value the wilderness for what it is. And I know for certain that most people who visit natural reserves and gardens go for the photos.

My suspicion became a conviction by the time I left the Botanical Garden and entered the Japanese Tea Garden across the street. The difference was unmistakable, and it was evident even at the price of the entrance ticket. It was only a dollar more, but as I paid I sensed that the woman at the counter was bored. It wasn’t a mark of how tough her job is, but instead, a mark of how tired she was of talking nice to tourists. When I turned to the garden, I saw an abundance of people amidst manicured plants.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

To be fair, the plants were mesmerising. But about ten minutes in the garden, I couldn’t wait to get myself out of there. Every side I turned a couple or a group posed with the shrubs. And the plants, too, seemed pruned for pictures. People rushed to reserve their spot near weird-shaped plants. Although the plants radiated a calming sensation, mingled with it came unwanted and palpable excitement that didn’t originate from me.

I’m not against photo taking, for I took plenty myself. But it’s the excess touristy behaviour that made me uncomfortable. Nevertheless, I spent over an hour walking around, musing. With far fewer people, the garden would be a wonderful spot for a quiet afternoon. Not only was it domesticated, but it was also lush. Looking at the photographs I took there, I can’t believe how charming the entire garden is. Sure, I still feel it’s commercialised but it’s also a wonder.

It’s the first time that I can’t decide whether I like a garden. In every other circumstance, I would brim with compassion. Regardless of what I felt, though, the garden is a favourite place for both locals and tourists alike. In fact, a friend living in the Bay area mentioned to me that she adored the Japanese Tea Garden—she speculated it was the weekends that drew the crowd. Perhaps she’s right. Perhaps I chose the wrong day.

But my day wasn’t over yet, for I explored the Golden Gate Park further. More about all that in a part 2 of this post.

Ebbing away

I woke up Sunday morning to a text message from my airlines. Online check-in had opened. It had arrived at four in the morning, 48 hours before my scheduled departure. And yet when I saw it, I felt nothing. I wasn’t thrilled, as I should’ve been. I no longer felt like jumping up and down.

I felt indifferent, instead, and even a little scared.

That sensation unnerved me. I couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t more happy about the one thing I had been looking forward to for the past two months. It was as if an unknown shroud hung over my face, shielding me from the joy I deserved.

Perhaps it was because I hadn’t packed yet, I thought. People often said how planning their trip increased their anticipation. And so I packed. I had already done a trial packing to assess my baggage limits so the actual packing didn’t take much time or effort.

Looking down at my bag, loaded and ready to fly, I still didn’t feel any different. The excitement of the last few days had ebbed away as water through my palms, leaving in its place just blotches on vacant places. All of sudden, this trip seemed longer than I had ever dreamed of. I gulped. So many new things to encounter—maybe a tad too many. From weather and food, to people and road ways, I’d face unfamiliarity in abundance and in quick succession. As good as it is for my inner being, I began to doubt if I could handle it well enough.

My roommates had gone away for the weekend, and so I was in my room alone looking through the window as the monsoon rains lashed against helpless weeds.

Had I gotten cold feet? I didn’t know that was possible.

Although this is my first major trip, it isn’t my first time travelling. And it isn’t my first time putting myself out there for new experiences. I love visiting unknown places, and would often picture myself hiking along scenic routes with a backpack on my shoulders and a dreamy look on my face.

What, then, was I so scared about—I didn’t know.

Sitting down, I tried to figure it out. When I asked myself what I felt, I answered: Anxious that I wouldn’t enjoy myself. At the same time, I worried that worrying about the trip would, in fact, lead to its downfall — a self-fulfilling prophesy of sorts. It seemed far-fetched, yes. But the nagging voice in my head wouldn’t go away.

My train of thoughts grew unsure. Sober though I was, I felt intoxicated as I stared at the list of Friends episodes I’d been watching. Friends made me feel a little better, but they didn’t solve my confusion. At that moment, I received a message from a colleague who’d travel with me: “check in opened”. Ah, this is a business trip after all.

“Saw.” I wrote back to her. And realising it’d seem rude to end it that way, I followed up with, “Let’s do it tomorrow?” She replied in the affirmative and I looked away from my phone. It was too distressing.

*Ping*

Her again. “I’m working on my presentation. Are you done yet?”

Huh?

Oh, I remembered. While being busy planning the fun part of the trip, I had forgotten the work part. My heart had been ruling all along, but my brain had woken up at last.
I’d be presenting in front of a gathering, and my mind reminded me I hadn’t prepared for it. We still had time, though, as my heart assured me—but practise always helps, argued the mind. All of a sudden, the cloud over my mind cleared. So that’s why I’d felt like a loser. I slapped my forehead. Sitting alone at home, I had let my thoughts wander way too much. It wasn’t the travelling that worried me. Instead, it was the business of the travel that had me worried.

Phew, I thought opening my presentation determined to finish it. One day to go. And some of the excitement crept back in.

My first big trip

After months of anticipation and weeks of feverish online searching, I think I’m prepared to take on a journey of 20 hours—but I also know I’m far from ready. That’s solvable, though. Things will become more real than ever as soon as I board a cab to the airport. I’m still stunned that I’m travelling almost halfway across the world. I want to jump up in the air screaming, but my pessimism and over indulgence in worst-case scenarios prevent me from doing so.

Nevertheless, I’m excited. Just the idea of gawking at sights I’ve never had the nerve to even dream up is overwhelming—in a good way. But what’s made this trip even more thrilling is the recommendations I’ve received from people I know.

When you’re planning a trip, there are two kinds of people who give you suggestions. One, the family and friends who love you so much, but have no idea of what you need to carry and how you should approach your trip planning. They’re so happy for you that they find solace in sharing their dream trip tips and tricks with you. Not to devalue their concern, but often times, they’re far from helpful. Sure, it’s great when your father reminds you to carry an extra pair of gloves in your cabin baggage because the flight would get chilly. But it’s also annoying when your grandfather suggests you buy a new toothbrush and a fresh tube of toothpaste just for the trip.

The second kind of advice givers are more reliable. They know what they’re talking about, and it’s unsurprising they make a lot of sense. These are the ones who’ve either travelled far and wide—the globetrotters, or, those more grounded to the place you’re visiting: the locals. Not only do they know what you should bring and do, but they also know what to avoid. Now that’s advice you can’t get from family or forums. Hundreds of travellers worldwide advise on online forums, but having gone through some of them, I realise they’re too generic. You’d have a rough time combing through millions of answers before you find the one you need.

Having a local explain the locality is a different thing altogether. I had a colleague kind enough to draw up a map of the city. He even browsed AirBnb listings to help find a place closer to all the main attractions. This colleague (D for easy reference) also suggested food trucks I should stop at, and the cuisines I might enjoy. It’s all new for me—the culture, the weather, the people, even the concept of bicycle paths is unfamiliar—and it made planning so much easier because D had done most of the heavy lifting for me. Every first timer needs that kind of travel planning.

Sure, you do need freedom to get lost and wander off on your own—which I will be doing (weather permitting), but you also need some basic assurance that you’re going to be fine. I got that from asking a local to help me plan my trip. And that’s why it’s always a great idea to collaborate with people who know the place.

Of course, not everyone would have colleagues as wonderful as D, and that’s where Facebook groups and online communities come in. Although, one powerful lesson I learnt from planning this trip is that focussed advice is so much better than scattered advice. Or to put it another way, ask someone in the know, than leafing through endless threads of unsure conversations—at least you’d get proper direction.

P.S: I may sound like I know much about travelling, but I’m still a first timer myself. Perhaps when I come back (wiser, I hope) I’d have changed my opinion. Alas, we humans live as on a pendulums.