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BART, Apricot Cardamoms and Wandering

I've been trying to avoid the checklists of vacations. The "36 hours in XYZ" approach to a new city that feels so intrinsic to how I've approached traveling in the past. I landed in San Francisco late on Thursday evening (Halloween ðŸŽƒ) without a semblance of a plan for the next 6 or so days. My great-aunt lives about an hour outside of the city in Concord, so I took the BART directly from the airport on the Antioch line straight to her.

I always forget the specific layout of her home; the ways that the rooms flow into one another and how the backyard unfolds into the valley. I had barely walked in with two unruly bags of clothes  before I heard "Conor what's your guess?" Kathy (the homeowner since 1984) asks me before I can put my bags down."How many trick or treater's do you think we're getting tonight? We've been tallying them every year since 2003." It was around 7:30pm; that sweet spot where only a few groups of kids were beginning to trudge up and down the street with empty pillowcases and knapsacks. Overall the street is quiet, like the surrounding blocks, and features rows of California-style ranch homes separates by cypress trees and low wooden fences. The last deep blue light of dusk was settling over the mountains.

Myself, my aunt, Kathy (homeowner) and her husband were sitting on the two couches in the living room, eating burritos the size of babies and swapping stories of misadventures we all had as kids and in high school (I had none. I was a Good Kid). Every once in awhile a group of kids would turn into the driveway with their lanterns and candy bags, and one of us would alert the others to their presence. Once they left, we'd mark down how many came and which costumes they were wearing. My sample size is minuscule (only 26 kids came by that night. This was not the lowest turnout in their 21-year archive, but it was close. The lowest turnout belongs to 2014 with just 17 kids), but it was endearing to see so many Classic costumes continue to make appearances. Zombies, Harry Potter, mummies (and more). All ran up to the door and screamed the obligatory "trick or treat!" with their bags open and arms outstretched. It was the first time in many years that I felt that Halloween spirit again.  

I passed out very shortly after the last trick or treater left, and woke up to the sun pushing into my eyes. I hadn't slept that deep or that long in two weeks. I made my way through the hallway, past the peaceful living room and into the kitchen. There, my aunt had prepared me some coffee and a nice slice of toast with Apricot Cardamom smeared on top. Delicious. Again: I'm sans plans at this point. My aunt dropped me off at the BART station and I retraced my steps into San Francisco without a point person or destination.

For me, there is no aimlessness. Even with the most tertiary idea of the city I'm in, I still find myself trying to figure out how to bring myself to those landmarks and neighborhoods that I'd like to see, just sans map or clear direction. Even without a plan, there is still a plan. I cannot help but he a tourist. I found this a little sad. Maybe this approach to exploring a new city is too vast. Maybe it's too vague. What does success in this approach even look like? Maybe I'm just overthinking this. Maybe those little moments like Halloween and the morning apricots can't be forced and simply happen. 

Fulton Street, Golden Gate Park - November 2nd, 2024


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