When I went camping in California without knowing I was going camping.
After falling off my bike at 25km/h, covering the shores of the Rhine river with my blood and dermis, and entering the emergency room at the Unispital as a patient, the first somewhat coherent thought that popped up in my mind was none other than “I hope I can still make it to California”.
After a week and a half of sick leave, pain plagued sleepless nights and multiple bandage replacements there I was, happily looking out the window on my direct flight to L.A. —all covered limbs, a bag of povidone-iodine, a bunch of pretty sundresses and four bikinis.
I was picturing my beach life for the upcoming weeks, blissfully oblivious to what was actually awaiting me.
When we met the following morning —a bunch of young strangers from all over the world, awkwardly introducing themselves and their expectations — I finally realized that I was, in fact, about to embark on my first camping experience ever, which led to some unexpected on-the-go sleeping-bag purchasing at Target.
My bikinis would have to wait.
First stop was Santa Monica, where we were greeted by its famous pier and a bunch of cheeky chipmunks that got the best out of my expensive Swiss nuts (I apologize to the Santa Monica local authorities in case I wasn’t legally allowed to feed them).
After a delicious Subway treat, we continued our journey up the 101 towards San Luis Obispo. The thrilling repulsion of sticking my chewing gum on a wall at the Bubblegum Alley was followed by the relaxing experience of wandering around the town’s pretty mission under the warm mid-afternoon sun.
Some more curvy roads framed by golden fields, horse farms and scattered pine trees with the impressive touch of a bird of pray landing on a utility pole with its paws clenched around a rattle snake and we finally made it to our first camping site near Santa Margarita. Wild turkeys, bug bites, Joy’s funny but eloquent sour facial expression, remarkably comfortable showers and toilets (no hole on the floor, as I had imagined) and Syd’s delicious chia salad that we tasted but could not see in the dark.
Sleeping on the floor underneath the stars was definitely not comfortable, but strangely exhilarating.
As we continued towards NorCal we set foot on beautiful Julia Pfeiffer Burn State Park and the Bixby Creek Bidge on the Big Sur coast. That part of the journey, with its rugged coastline, steep coastal cliffs and the drought-tolerant flora reminded me viscerally of Tenerife. Those who know the Canary Islands agreed with me. Those who don’t, got sick and tired of my reactions.
Finally, we arrived at Carmel-by-the-Sea. It didn’t feel like America there. It also didn’t feel like Europe or any other place I know, but like a (very fancy) fairy tale village instead. One absolute highlight was running into well hidden Thomas Kinkade Studio in the Garden, which unfortunately opened shortly after our curfew (and which I would have visited had I known Steph’s unsurprising delaying visit to the bathroom would give us an extra 20 minutes). The next highlight came shortly after in the town of Monterey, where I sacrificed 40$ in order to visit the aquarium during its last 40 opening minutes. It was an amazing experience which brought that awe-induced kind of tears to my eyes. Both the aquarium and the mind-blowing (and equally hilarious) wild elephant seal colony we had the opportunity to watch on our way reminded me once again why wildlife and animals in general hold such a special place in my heart.
That night we spent in the middle of Nowhere, midway between Santa Cruz and Half Moon Bay. That was the first night I realized I messed up big time by not bringing any long pants or long sleeved tops, eating yet another delicious but invisible meal in pitch darkness while covering my shaking (almost convulsing!) body with my sleeping bag.
Strange things happened that night. We stampeded down the pebble path and across the widest highway ever for 15 minutes in order to reach the sunset, only to realize my camera had run out of battery. Natalia got lost on her way back from the restroom. Nick was taken for a ride on some random guy’s golf cart-like vehicle. Melanie was forced to film someone’s gum lesion up close to share with that person’s dentist. Henry, Joy and I left our luggage outside our tents just to find it soaking wet in the morning. I also woke up to a mouse banging repeatedly against my head underneath my tent. While packing my stuff, it insistently tried to find shelter underneath my right foot.
At least no mosquitos. Or wild flightless birds.
The next day, we enjoyed misty views of Pigeon Point and saw some beautiful sequoia trees. They reminded me of the movie “The Gnome-Mobile”. I didn’t know the original title at the time, so people looked at me like I was crazy when I said “the movie with the grandpa who drives a van with two grandkids and a gnome to a magical forest populated by even more gnomes”.
Half Moon Bay wasn’t all that, but it had a cozy and local feel to it and I had the chance to buy a mystery novel set in said town, as well as two chai lattes that messed with my stomach all day long.
And then came San Francisco.
Once again, the overwhelming dimensions of large American cities blew me away. I had the memories of visiting with my dad when I was still in high school over a decade ago, which were still surprisingly helpful in order to find my way around the pier area. After a nice food truck meal, the classic stop at Golden Gate Bridge, the Painted Ladies and the top of Lombard Street, we made our way to our hotel (some would say sleeping on an actual bed during a long camping trip is cheating. I call it necessary).
I can’t say SF left a good (second) first impression on me. The serious homelessness problem is extremely apparent, and nothing compared to what I witnessed in NYC or Miami last year —only to be topped by Los Angeles a week later. People queuing outside of the employment office, some sitting or laying randomly across the sidewalk, and two elegantly dressed young executives walking casually down the street, all happening at the same time. My brain could barely process the surreal contrast. The smell of weed was also omnipresent and huge billboards announcing free and safe delivery of first class marijuana to your own home left a decadent and somewhat depressing impression on me.
However, Pier 39, our sunset boat trip sailing underneath the Golden Gate, dumplings from Chinatown and a delicious pizza at Little Italy made for unforgettable memories of the city.
Saying goodbye to Steph and Natalia was sad, and our group dynamic changed completely after four British lads and two young girls joined us, which became apparent during our rather quiet ride to Yosemite National Park. Said dynamic didn’t last long, though, and soon we were all chatting and laughing animatedly around the campfire, which we managed to finally set under Henry’s efficient expertise and supervision that night —first night we also saw our food while eating it! However, our luck didn’t last long: our nearby toilets broke, forcing us to take our full bladders on a half-mile walk every time. The shower water also smelled funny. Was it connected to the toilet plumbing problem? I guess we will never know (and we sure are glad about that).
Next morning most of us accompanied Syd on her hike up Yosemite Falls. What a freaking accomplishment. The views from the valley had been daunting, but still insufficient to predict what we were about to experience. Without a doubt, the toughest hike of my life. And also the most rewarding.
Departing all together, the demanding ascent slowly divided us into smaller groups, spreading us across both space and time. I have no words to describe what I felt getting to the top, but Sydney’s tears spoke for all of us.
There was bliss, pride, exhaustion and a paralyzing fear for my life —all at once.
I had feared for my knees on the way back down but randomly meeting Fernando and the two hour conversation we held during our descent was extremely helpful, distracting and uplifting. And a reminder of why I love traveling so much.
— How come no one ever dies on this hike?
— Oh, but they do. Every once in a while.
Yikes.
The next day some of us struggled for hours to get to the bike rental place in the valley —pride parade, wrong shuttle line, wrong direction on the right one... We wasted some more time trying to pay for the bikes, as their system was failing. We ended up getting them for free, though, and riding along mind-blowing scenery all the way up to Mirror Lake definitely made up for the time loss.
Watching a bunch of crazy climbers on their way up from the base of El Capitan during lunch, getting some Oreo ice cream on our way to the campsite and jumping into the pool once there all made for an eventful afternoon. We watched the sun set behind beautiful sights of the park, wondering about the appearing flickering lights on El Capitan, representing those climbers spending the night suspended mid-air hundreds of feet above the ground and how much they needed to take the amygdala test.
The guys’ dangerously insufficiency cooked chicken didn’t kill anyone and we enjoyed dinner and some more fun and enriching conversation around our last Yosemite camp fire.
We packed up our tents just in time before most of my floor and luggage was completely covered by sand and dirt (it’s funny how quickly I can adjust to such conditions. It reminded me of the bathroom I once shared with four other girls in Santa Teresa, Costa Rica).
During our drive back to L.A. we entertained ourselves with music, riddles and one of my all-time-favorite conversations I shared with Joy.
At lunch, I learnt In-N-Out is an actual regional chain of fast food restaurants in California, and not just a laid-back way of saying “take out”. There, we met their friendliest employer, who we took a picture with wearing the brand’s hat.
And finally, we arrived at Hermosa Beach. It was surprisingly cloudy for SoCal, but we didn’t get much of it indoors at American Junkie’s taco Tuesday. After that I went out for the first time since... September. We were lucky enough to enjoy free bachata lessons at The Lighthouse, which I had so much fun sharing with Hamza. Later that day I scored an ice cream date with some SpaceX intern guy, which would have probably happened if I hadn’t spotted him having ice cream with another girl literally the next day. I’m glad that made Alex’s day, though, as he cheerfully commanded everyone to put their ice cream in the air during our goodbye at the beach.
That first Hermosa Beach night I stayed up until 1 am chatting nonstop with Jenny and Mer, and getting to know these two young but very mature souls better was a heartwarming experience.
I continued playing my role of official group photographer during surfing lessons in Santa Monica the next morning. After that, I discovered açaí bowls (Review: yum).
Visiting the Aquarium of the Pacific with my roommates came after that and Diego turned out to be without a doubt the worst driver I’ve ever met —after getting off the Uber I felt the way I did on that rocky boat in New Zealand when I spent hours pouring my stomach into a blue bucket.
Dinner was not the best experience for me that day, while everyone was daydreaming about their upcoming visit to Nevada and Arizona. But wrapping up at the beach later that night was beautiful, as we all opened up about our experience throughout our journey. Tears were shed alongside laughter. And in case of doubt, it was in that moment that it became obvious how fond we’d grown of one another. Plus, I won the easiest 50$ ever by jumping into the ocean in the middle of the night (thanks, Alex).
Leaving almost everyone was hard, and having Joy dry her big eyes on my hoodie mid-hug definitely didn’t make things easier. Despite all, it was happiness and relief predominating over everything else. I’d experienced feelings (and thoughts!!) I’d missed during almost a whole year of emotional numbness and scary unprecedented cynicism. The terror for losing my ability to connect with others dissipated further. Also, their appreciation constituted one more layer of appeasing stability added to my general state of mind, further quieting the hurtful words that had been echoing in my head for such a long time.
Hence, I couldn’t but relax a bit after getting some more pieces of myself back thanks to the experience with these wondelful people.
Hamza, Alex and I shared a day together in Hollywood, exploring Hollywood Boulevard, Beverly Hills and Rodeo Drive. One again, I was shocked and disappointed by the colliding polarization and the brutality of America’s social system (or the lack thereof) to the wildest extreme —filthy rich vs. hopelessly poor, luxurious vs. decadent, consumerism vs. poverty, appearance vs. reality. With the 100 year old Chinese Theatre as the oldest significant landmark in the area, common knowledge and culture seemed to revolve around who knows who, which scene from which movie was filmed where, where are the best tacos, the best burrito, the best hot-dog.
Getting back to Hermosa Beach after a whole day of that felt really good.
The cherry on top was being able to share a meal with Matt, who lives in L.A. and whom I’d met in Greece last year, buying hand soap and a Pandora charm with him and being able to catch up with Hamza for the last time before heading to the airport.
It took me the usual 10 hours to fly back, plus an extra 7 hours of trains to get to my place from the airport (9-euro-ticket chaos). But it was absolutely worth it and I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
I’ll miss Syd’s laid back way of driving with her left foot on the seat, Melanie’s contagious laughter and beautiful mood, Natalia’s loud extroversion, Steph’s endearing aloofness, Nick’s easygoingness, Alex’s bittersweet mysterious halo, Hamza’s heartwarming openness, Joy’s sweet cheerfulness, Henry’s gentle but BRILLIANT sense of humor, Mer’s quiet confidence, Jenny’s shy wisdom, James’ and James’ young energy and funny wit and Felicia’s nordic charm.
Now that I’m back I’m physically exhausted, but mentally and spiritually recharged. It’s the fuel that comes from turning strangers into friends, the new into the familiar. It comes from connecting with people, expanding the mind through and with them, leaning about human experience from different backgrounds in all shapes and sizes. From sharing beautiful moments and enriching conversation.
It’s in the inside jokes, the memories, the laughter.
This, I realize once again, is what I want and need my life to be about: learning, friendship, and love.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to watch The Dawn Wall.
