The novelty of being back in the UK is wearing off. My first few weeks home were filled with life admin and fun excursions, and true to form the first 2 weeks of September (when the schools go back) as always were uncharacteristically beautiful. The next chapter is taking shape and ideas of where, what and how are starting to form. But for now I’m stuck in the north of England for a while as I accumulate some funds.
San Francisco. My first ever American city. I loved it although it wasn’t without its flaws.
Tomorrow I get on a plane to San Francisco. Which, incase you weren’t aware, is neither my birth place or my home. This trip is coming to an end. There’s only so much more pretending I can do. In 4 days, and an awful lot of time zone confusion later, I will be back on English soil. But that’s not home.
Suddenly the lush greenery I normally associate with tropical climates stops to give way to miles and miles of crumpled, wrinkled and cracked black rock. The contrast is stark and it is very apparent we are about to witness something quite out of the ordinary.
I’m floating. Floating in water that is as warm my bath, but as blue as a gem stone. I snap my snorkel mask onto my face, take one last look at the mountain which simply seems to extend down under the ocean, before plunging my head downwards to join the multifaceted coral – an ecosystem all of it’s own.
Time moves a little slower here. Café’s are busy but not rushed. The traffic moves no faster than 45 mph at it’s peak, speeding is unheard of. No one is in a hurry, if you’re late so be it. Smiles are for everyone. Mahalo is a way of life. Family beach set ups include tables, chairs, gazebos, snorkel sets, body boards, eskis, hats, suncream and dozens of water babies. Going to the beach is a full day activity. This is Island Life. And we’re loving it.
Some would class this as some as a love letter. But I will class it as a letter of appreciation for the land I hold so dearly to my heart.