Words & photos by: Riddhi Bora
I’ve realized in recent months that I’m definitely a type A person. Maybe I’ve secretly known it for years, but recently I’ve become increasingly aware of my type A tendencies. I have extensive routines and spontaneity makes me uneasy. I hate waiting periods because I like being in control and not knowing what’s next terrifies me. My life is organized in detailed checklists, planners and calendars. The only thing I’m missing is a color-coded closet – but maybe I’ll get to that down the line. So, when my sister and I went on a trip to San Diego with minimal planning two weeks ago, it was a surprise for me to see how much I enjoyed the spontaneity of it. With the help of this spontaneity, a sketchy hostel that’s actually not that sketchy, beautiful sights and wonderful public transportation, I left the trip carrying a few lessons I hope stick with me for a while.
- Sometimes, skip the reviews
Before the trip, I felt burnt out. Despite it being the summer, I wasn’t on break. With two part-time jobs and a third, get-paid-once-a-month job, the exhaustion added up. But more than the jobs, the pressure I was putting on myself to be the best version of myself, all day, everyday was adding up. I needed to be social but prioritize taking time for myself. I needed to volunteer and give back to the community. I needed to go to protests because every time I read the news I felt increasingly devastated by what I read. I needed to cook my meals and pay off loans. I needed to save up for my next set of loans. I needed to check in with long-distance friends. I needed to read and write and go to the gym. I needed to stop scrolling and fix my attention span. There was so much I needed to do and even if I did seven of the ten things on my list, missing the other three made me feel like I failed.
And so planning, which I’m usually eager to do, felt like one more thing to add to my extensive to-do list. I’m assuming my sister felt the same, and so we just didn’t do much of it.
Three days before our flight, however, my sister and I sat down at our kitchen table, exhausted but determined to make a semi-thought-out itinerary for the trip. And just as we started making leeway, we hit a roadblock.
The hostel we booked was dirty, lacked adequate customer service, unsafe, and so bad that even a “dog/rabbit/cat/hamster” couldn’t stay there. Or at least, that’s how bad it was according to Google reviews.
Before you ask why the hell we would choose such a place to stay in, it’s because:
a) It was $30 a night.
b) There were hundreds of positive reviews that outweighed the negative ones.
That night though, it felt as if we were suddenly only seeing 1-star reviews. We started panicking. Were we really about to stay in a place that was so bad even a hamster couldn’t stay there? We started looking for other options. We had a few more hours to cancel and get a full refund. But with our budget, for every place we found, we ran into the same problem. There were several good reviews, but the bad reviews were so bad that staying home and bearing the Texas heat seemed better than flying out to “America’s Finest City.”
For at least forty minutes, we read through review after review, reporting our findings to each other like FBI agents dissecting the inner workings of an elaborate money laundering scheme. Until finally, we did something quite unfamiliar to me – we said fuck it; whatever happens, happens, and kept our reservation for the original hostel.
Three days later, we stood in front of a black door that blended into the brick surrounding it and a small, unassuming sign that read “Lucky D’s.” It was time to see if our gamble would work in our favor … and surprise, it did.
The hostel wasn’t luxurious by any means, but it had every bit of character and charm you could ask for. The decor strictly stuck to a “no theme theme,” as the walls were painted random colors, the furniture differed widely from room to room, and eclectic wall decor such as vintage Indian travel posters and paper currency from across the globe filled the walls. Oh, and the restrooms were spotless.
Staying at the hostel made me feel like the main character in a coming-of-age travel movie (I’m looking at you, “Queen” 2013). And what’s the point of your 20s if you don’t have at least a few moments where you feel like that?
So my first lesson from the trip, and the one I needed to learn the most, was that sometimes it’s best to pause your planning and throw up your hands and let God, or the Universe, (or pure luck if you’re an atheist) take the reins.
2. Good public transportation = lively, sociable, walkable cities
I’m currently studying to be a journalist, but when I think of my Sylvia Plath fig tree and all the alternate paths I’d embark on if I had all the time in the world, becoming an urban planner is one of my figs. Growing up in a spread-out, car-centric city with little to no public transportation, I occasionally felt the bleakness that comes with depending on a car to take you everywhere.
So when visiting San Diego, which offers residents and visitors an extensive public transit system that can take you pretty much anywhere with the tap of a PRONTO card, I was in awe of how different life is compared to my six-lane highway hometown.
In cities that provide extensive, efficient public transportation, you can coexist with others in a way that driving in cars can’t provide. You watch the teenager sitting in front of you on the bus tap their foot to the rhythm of the music flowing through their wired headphones. You watch the mom gaze out the window while holding her baby securely in her lap. You watch the person who barely slid through the doors sigh in relief as they slouch on the seat. It’s so cliche, but in these moments I truly feel overcome with sonder — the realization that each person has a life as vivid and complex as your own.
3. To be present is to be a kid again
One of my favorite parts of the trip was when we visited the Belmont Amusement Park — the first amusement park I’ve been to in three years. The moment we stepped in, I felt like I was transported into the classic amusement park scene that’s in every summer-coming-of-age movie ever. Nostalgic pop songs played in the background as people walked around with sticks of pink and blue cotton candy. And while I was there, for the first time in I don’t even know how long, I felt like a kid again.
I ate overpriced churros dipped in ice cream without caring about how much sugar was in it. I screamed during the whole duration of the first roller coaster we went on and didn’t care if I was being dramatic. For every ride we went on, my mind didn’t wander. I was present in a way that only kids are, with no worries about what’s next or qualms about what passed.
I also finally conquered my fear of being upside down on a ride – it’s really not as bad as it looks.
4. Nothing beats seeing something with your own eyes
This fourth lesson may seem obvious, but I have to mention it. Even though we live in a time where can I-phone’s can offer up to 5x optical zoom and megapixel cameras capture every detail of an image, the awe of seeing something in real life remains unmatched.
While at The Little Italy farmer’s market – which showcased vendors selling items and food like elaborate flower bouquets, uniquely flavored honey, and possibly the most delicious coconut ice cream ever created – I pulled out my phone and started recording a video of the moment to show my mom. But as I watched it through my screen, I realized what the video showed didn’t do the scene justice. It didn’t even come close.
The same thing happened when we visited Coronado Island and Balboa Park. I took pictures with my digital camera, and while I got some wonderful photos that captured the moments, nothing could beat seeing the waves crash on the beach and turning my head to see colorful houses sitting on a hill in the distance, in real life. And at Balboa Park, nothing could beat seeing the intricate details of Spanish colonial style architecture and the never-ending greenery of the place with my own eyes.
I love documenting things (that’s why this blog exists) and I hope to continue doing so for as long as I live. But I’m glad I got to experience San Diego, which reminded me that it’s ok for moments to be fleeting as long as I remember to savor them while they’re there.
riddhibora 