Katy's Adventure Part One: An unexpected trip to New York, finding my feet in San Diego and winning the Air BnB Lottery
New York
I am writing this four days after leaving the UK. I’ve just popped down to the lobby in my hotel in my pyjamas to grab a tea and a coffee to come back to bed to write this, to capture what’s been happening so far before it all becomes a blur!
My trip over here didn’t exactly go without a hitch - it was meant to be 8 hrs Mcr-NYC, two hour stopover, 6.5 hrs NYC - San Diego. The queue at passport control in NY was wild - I spoke to a member of staff to tell them I was on a timeframe to get my connection - exaggerating the shortness and they said I would be fine. I knew it would not be fine!! Finally got through to the Delta check-in desk where they told me I wasn’t going to make my connection as it was in another terminal. No shit. ‘There are only 2 flights per day ma’am so the best we can do is re-book you onto this same flight tomorrow night’.
24 hours in NYC here we come.
I actually think I brought this on myself as I’d been feeling for a while that it had been too long without a little injection of New York. If the option had been to stop over in all honesty I would have taken it - the downside to my situation was that I had already booked a nice hotel in San Diego and now I was about to book another in NYC, plus the cab fares each way. 10 years ago spanking an unforeseen £500 on a night in NYC would have stressed me out. Now I understand that at times out of your control, this is exactly what credit cards are for - and one can either get stressed and pissed off - or make the best of it. Of course I decided on the latter and felt excited heading towards that unmistakable skyline.
My cab driver into the city was fun - one of those conversations that you would never have otherwise. Geoff was a tall, black, 50 year old man who wanted to tell me about growing up in Queens and how proud he is to own a house there. We bonded over motorcycles - he loved that I am keen to get my licence and proudly showed me photos of his pride and joy ‘locked up for the winter as it has a $30k sound system on it’. He told me that his motorcycle club is a huge part of his life that he enjoys massively, and that I should look for one in the UK. In his club the men spend the day ‘hanging out’ - some he’s close to, others he avoids - ‘the drug dealers and gangsters’. I asked if they stop for a cuppa and a chat enroute and he explained that ‘we move between bars, strip clubs, drinking, getting high and chasing ass - its a lot of fun’. ‘Most of the married men are cheating, they always have a different girl on the back of their bike - but Sunday rides are for wives only’. Right, I see. Do the women that belong to the club have different men on the back of their bikes, I asked? ‘Nah women can’t do that really can they, they get a name for themselves’. Hmm. ‘Plus I would never have a dude on the back of my bike. I like chick-a-lick, not dick-a-lick’. OK Geoff, good chatting to you.
I stayed up in Hudson Yards, just north of Chelsea, so that I could re-visit some of my favourite haunts starting with Buvette for dinner down in Greenwich. It was exactly as I remembered; small, packed, vibey, a French bistro smelling divine and a cosy, beautiful assault on the senses as soon as you walk in. I sat at the bar whilst lovely Michael made me a sloe gin fizz and I inhaled coq au vin and dauphinoise potatoes. It was 8 years since I last sat in this restaurant on my honeymoon - one of my favourite memories from that trip. It didn’t make me feel sad looking over at where we sat, now that we’re no longer together; just so glad that we had those experiences.
The next morning I walked the blocks down to Jack’s Wife Frida for breakfast. It was grey, and the city looked very concrete - there was not a part of me that wished I lived there. Isn’t growing older and getting to know yourself helpful - years ago I decided I wanted to experience living in Sydney, London and NY. I lived in the first two - but now you couldn’t pay me to live in a built up city.
But to visit - to inhale the energy, the diversity, the youth and splendour - absolutely yes please.
I sauntered through the lovely shops at Chelsea Markets, bought a ‘naughty notebook’ and took in a breath of fresh-ish air along the High Line in the time I had remaining.
High:
The unforeseen entertaining conversations and the energy of an exciting city that does something to your soul that you didn’t know you needed.
Low:
The eye watering expense…but also, kinda worth it.
Learning:
Always pack for every eventuality. I was heading to 18 degrees San Diego but I brought my feather down jacket because I am terrified of being cold. Thank goodness - you literally never know where you might end up for 24 hours!
San Diego:
Finally made it to San Diego 40 hrs after leaving Manchester. A flight which felt long, but crossing the entire United States is long. Sat between a woman from India ‘where there is never snow’ who lives in Preston, visiting her sister for a month; and a woman enroute back from visiting her family in Venezuela, who spent Christmas alone in a hotel in Houston after also missing her connecting flight out. ‘That’s much worse than 24 hours in NYC’ I said. ’Ah it was OK, what can you do’ she answered in a very laid-back, California-type way. I think laid-back Katy (or Casey as I am known here) is going to get along with these people.
I am staying at The Guild Hotel, a reformed YMCA recommended by CN Traveller. It’s fine; trendy rooms, a buzzy bar downstairs - overpriced for what I’m getting, but I feel safe and at ease which is exactly what I am paying for. I walk out through the Gaslamp Quarter which sounds trendy right? It is not. I walk through endless grids of pretty soulless and tacky bars - the area for nightlife apparently. Find the Gaslamp Breakfast company and sink into that feeling of aliveness - of all my nerves gently humming, a mixture of excitement and intrigue and apprehension - a feeling I only get when exploring somewhere new, on an adventure. And honestly, alone. I hope in the future I get to adventure with someone by my side again but there is a lot to be said for being out of your comfort zone and totally on your own agenda - I can do anything I want (as my lovely friend Hannah recently reminded me) and alone means much more present - noticing everything - the sights, sounds, people, conversations. A constant ear wigger!
I wanted to see Chicano Park, an area filled with Mexican-influenced street art. Enroute I wander into a huge homeless area, where nobody makes me feel threatened in any way, but I trust my instincts and make a u-turn, instead heading for huge Balboa Park. This city is fucking massive - maybe hire a scooter! In the middle of the park there are a cluster of museums and art galleries and the lovely outdoor cafe Panama 66 where I bask in the sun and drink tea that looks exactly like dishwater. I take a massive exhale that I’ve made it here - no matter how much research you do, you really need a local to advise which routes to take, especially on foot. I pass the famous San Diego Zoo and countless more tent laden homeless areas and head out the north east side of the park, walking through a lovely local neighbourhood where every front porch is a reflection of the climate - comfy sofas, ceramics, lamps - outside living, yum.
Eventually I arrive at North Park and could almost weep with happiness to get there! This area is teeming with great coffee, delicious food (City Tacos, Swami’s cafe, Dark Horse coffee) the young, the hip, some beautiful. Its eclectic - ultra cool minimalist brunch spots alongside the best antiquarian bookshop ‘Verbatim’ I have ever seen, and nestle in for an hour. The Gold Dust Collective is a boutique full of ‘oddities and magical curiosities’ that I fall head over heels in love with and accidentally buy a pair of foot-long feathered earrings. I delight in pilfering through the vintage tees and records at Full Contact record shop, thinking how much my Dad would love it in there. I sit in the sun devouring incredible fish tacos and eavesdrop on two brothers about my age telling their Dad about the virtues of meditation. I jump in an uber back to my hotel to rest for a while (feeling the most jet lagged I have so far) and then force myself up and out to Little Italy, which is not remotely Italian but is thrumming with life - packed bars and restaurants line this neighbourhood - I sit outside again (its the 7th January for goodness sake!) and enjoy a burrata and glass of crisp California white wine. I feel so happy and content.
My second day in San Diego I take another long walk over to Hillcrest, the gay village. The sequin filled eclectic vintage shops are totally worth the trip, as well as another book shop where I buy ‘milk and honey’ by Rupi Kaur. I soak up the sun and book my uber to take me away from the city and up to my next destination of Encinitas, 20 miles north.
High:
Finding neighbourhoods that make your heart sing, and the pure joy of exploring a new place and unexpected areas on foot, seeing how people live here. The friendliness of a gift shop worker when they saw I’d been buying up treasures in the bookshop - unbeknownst to them it would be the longest conversation I would have with another human that day!
Low:
The stark reminder of the size of the homeless communities in some American cities, realising (again) you really need to get insider knowledge on your chosen routes. My phone battery almost dying before getting an uber the 4 miles back to my hotel (it didn’t!)
Learnings:
👉🏻 Take a phone charger and adapter everywhere you go.
👉🏻 Ask locals for feedback on your planned routes.
👉🏻 Do explore on foot to make sure you soak it all up.
👉🏻 Do treat yourself to magical oddities such as foot-long feather earrings when in Rome / San Diego.
Encinitas:
I stuck a pin in the map on this little surfy town after hearing so many good things about it. Often voted as one of the ‘best surf towns’ in the world, I figured that sounded pretty appealing. I don’t surf but I do like watching the surfers do their thing. My entire trip actually came to fruition after spotting the Airbnb I am headed to here and when I arrive I honestly cannot believe my luck, thanking the moon and stars that I trusted my gut instinct. Lisa whose home I am staying in is the warmest, friendliest, most down to earth person I have ever met. Half Hawaiian, half Irish, she’s still a total babe at 58. Her entire home is comfy and cosy and homely and filled with buddhas and crystals. My room feels instantly like home and I just can’t believe this place exists! Another woman is staying in one of the other bedrooms, Anita from Rhode Island; she must be almost 80 and quite possibly the sweetest spirit I have ever come across. I cannot believe this is happening!
The next day I get my bearings and realise I’m pretty far out - perhaps a 40 minute walk into town. The town centre runs along Pacific Highway 101 and has plenty of nice shops and food outlets to explore - I treat myself to a lobster roll for lunch and sit outside watching the world go by. I can’t believe I’m here, under a blue sky in California, in January. How did this happen?
One of the reasons I chose this town was for the free-spirited vibe and spiritual lifestyle - there is an abundance of yoga and meditation events on offer. I try a kundalini class on Monday and familiarise myself with my local grocery store Sprouts which I love. I try to engage with work in the afternoon but honestly I just want to explore my new hood! The next couple of days are rainy / cloudy and ‘a pretty bad winter’ according to the locals. I chuckle to myself as it is pretty much as good as it gets in a UK summer. Lisa arranges for us to have an incredible full body massage at home. The next day I go to a beautiful guided breathwork class in which I am overwhelmed with gratitude to be here on this coast at this time, as well as here at this point in my life.
Lisa offers to run Anita and I down to famous Swami’s beach to watch the sunset and it's a beautiful one…I watch tonnes of surfers dance amongst big waves as the sky turns from gold to lilac. The next morning I watch a hummingbird from my bedroom window as I log on to host my coaching sessions. In the sessions I feel present and alive and excited, they are some of the best coaching sessions I’ve ever hosted. Still a bit jet lagged, I am reminded that the change of scenery and injection of newness was exactly what I needed, which I knew in my heart it would be.
It strikes me that the awareness I had of being totally alone for a month before I set off, doesn’t exist here. I’m sharing a house with glorious humans that I can have a chat with throughout the day and who include me in delightful activities. I don’t feel remotely alone, I feel at home and taken care of. Tonight 5 of us went for dinner in Leucadia to a diner where I had pulled pork and margaritas as we listened to a live band. I think I might have convinced 80 year old Anita to get her first tattoo - which means I need to quickly decide what I am going to get! Watch this space.
As I write this it's exactly a week since I left the UK and this trip couldn’t feel more right, deep in my bones.I know I am meant to be in this place right now. I’m trying to take it all in and I feel beyond grateful every single day when I walk out onto the palm tree lined street.
Recording my adventures so far has reminded me that writing makes me happy. So thank you for following along and indulging me, dear reader.
