The last post

Today’s post brought to you by: a bugle

Grateful for: everyone who’s cared for me and cared about me

Trying hard to accept: why so much food is chucked out when so many are hungry

Day is done
Gone the sun
From the lake
From the hills
From the sky
All is well
Safely rest
God is nigh

Well not quite. Still 27 hours to go but can’t imagine there’ll be free wifi anywhere within 49 flightpaths of LAX.

Which, worst case scenario, I will know every inch of after 10 veeeeerrrrryyyy loooonnnngggggg hours in transit tomorrow.

Never get me to book your flights.

Speaking of god, for someone who isn’t a believer, I’ve spent a lot of time in churches this trip.

Mainly because church is the one place you can go and immediately feel welcome and accepted.

And, besides the shower, is also the one place you can belt out a tune at the top of your lungs and nobody will ever tell you to shut up because your voice is worse than fingernails down a chalkboard.

To end the trip I’ve just been to daily mass at St Patrick’s on Mission St, with an aptly Spanish priest.

Imagine the heating bill

Any of you Catholics? Skip this bit.

The whole daily mass thing is odd. Everybody knew every word off by heart. Except me. Only bit I knew was the Lord’s Prayer.

So does that mean it’s the same service every day? Wouldn’t that lessen its impact?

Maybe because it was a huge church, and everybody sat far apart and it was the daily mass, but there was no warmth at all. I left during communion.

I learned something though. There are 2 versions of the annunciation. Matthew’s and Luke’s.

Oh, and there’s an Elizabeth in the Bible, never knew that. Must be a low-profile kinda gal.

San Francisco is a very sad city. I’ve been here 9 hours and the only times I’ve felt gleeful were:

• Getting here – 15 hours on a packed, late train with babies at each end of the car who screamed all night. Screamed. All night. After twisting my body into 19 different combinations I finally settled on lying on back lengthways along dining car banquette seat with knees bent and feet flat on floor. Like a human ironing board.
• Bus driver on Amtrak transit bus from Emeryville station to downtown San Francisco. He said the nicest things to me that I hiked off to the hostel with a big soppy grin on my face.
• Christmas tree in Union Square.
• Long, long hot shower and clean, clean clothes.
• Real bed with mattress and sheets and pillows in hostel where the only babes are the Argentinian guys I flirted with in the kitchen.

Complete with flying saucer

Not to be outdone, Nordstrom dangled a few lights from the ceiling.

The rest of the time here I’ve been saddened by seeing homeless everywhere. And I mean everywhere.

As soon as you step away from the glitz and gold of Union Square, Bloomingdales, Saks, Nordstrom etc all you see are homeless people. Everywhere.

One block off the main drag, Market St, I saw the saddest thing yet. A long queue of homeless men on crutches etc waiting to get into soup kitchen; a medical van presumably to treat drug addicts; a homeless child with his little tricycle and a swathe of tacky wares for sale on sheets on the footpath.

San Francisco has one of the largest, if not the largest, homeless populations in the US. I probably saw more than most because I strayed from the tourist haunts.

Which brings me to one of the lasting impressions of my trip. Sure we all know the US is the land of extreme wealth and extreme poverty.

But I can’t understand why food servings are so gigantic. Fridges become clogged with leftovers boxes – the contents of which will end up in the bin – yet there are so many people going hungry.

The food wastage is gob-smacking. It’s not just the serving sizes. It’s the price of food. It’s so damn cheap that you think nothing of chucking half it out.

The inequity is just so sad.

The other thing I will remember from this trip is the people.

I’ve been so incredibly lucky to have met, spent time with, stayed with, talked with, been helped by and welcomed by so many kind people.

All the people who’ve driven me places, fed me, shown me places, given me gifts, had me to stay, killed time with me, invited me to stay, shared their stories with me, kept in contact with me from home, made me laugh and asked about my trip have been so wonderfully generous.

Even those who thought NZ was in Australia, thought NZ was in Holland or asked me if I spoke English have added something. Not sure what, but something.

NZ hits San Francisco. Wonder if they pay the rip-off prices we do. Oh, that reminds me, also saw a Mojo cafe in Chicago but didn’t take a pic because (a) hate Mojo – yes, hate is a strong word (b) was rushing to train station – for train that was 2 hours late. Sigh.

Hiked all the way up here to some massive cathedral above San Francisco and what should be starting in 10 minutes but Christmas carols! Yipppeee. Fine print: ticket-holders only. Like the grand old Duke of York (ewwww, creepy Prince Andrew) I marched down again.

Spot the difference in Wholefoods, Eugene.

Food and people aside, the one thing that sums up this whole trip has been how incredibly lucky I’ve been.

Serendipity has ridden alongside me every step of the way. I’ve landed on my feet more times than I’ve over-eaten.

Every sad, lonely, frustrating moment has been just that. A moment.

I’ve come out the other side smiling every time.

So, this is one very lucky and very grateful writer saying good-bye. And thank you for reading, following and commenting on my posts.

Writing the posts, and knowing you’ve been along for the ride has made this my best trip ever.

“And when the night is cloudy, there is still a light that shines on me, shine until tomorrow, let it be.”