Last year I wanted to go to the States, so I asked my boss if there was a chance I might get some sponsorship so I can attend a conference in Boston. Naturally the answer was NO (not a direct answer, rather a well-I-m-not-sure-it-is-possible kind of way), so I decided “if you want something to be done, you have to do it yourself”. I applied for the visa on my own and joy of joys, I was granted the tourist visa for 10 years *insert celebration dance*. So, after much debating, I decided to spend a month in the country of my heart, US of A, this time no work, just travel. So the middle of November found me in the Bucharest airport where the adventure started. I got my plane ticket online, and it seems the system (or the lady at the counter) would not find my ticket. My blood pressure was rising. Eventually, after waiting almost an hour, another fine dame appears and tells me everything is OK, and prints out a paper ticket, mentioning that if I lose it, I would have to pay for a new ticket. I wanted to hurt her. The flight to Bruxelles was enjoyable and no incidents. We land, and I check my cell-phone. No signal. Groovy. I run like a crazy person to find my gate, fill out the papers and get on-board in time.
After 9 hours, I reach good old O’Hare and the first order of business, after passing through security, is to check my cell-phone, to let the parents know I got there in one piece. And pray. And wonder of wonders, I got a signal *sigh of relief*. I reach my friends’ place where I got a good night’s sleep, as the next day I was heading to San Francisco. Early in the morning, with my trusted backpack on my back I was going to catch the bus, then train to the airport, but being the absolute tourist, I was heading in the opposite direction. I get on the bus and ask the driver if this is the way towards the airport – he says no, and that bus will come in about half an hour. Great. However, being the amazing person he was, and since there were no other passengers, he turned the bus around and took me to the train station. I thanked him profusely and was on my merry way. I had a muffin and Starbucks (what else) in the airport, then ZOOM – destination San Francisco. Getting there in the afternoon, I checked into my hotel then got to planning.
The first day was reserved for: Alcatraz island (I left my ID at the hotel and used my best puppy-eyed face to tell the lady at the ticket counter what happened, she let me pass)- the audiotour was amazing, Fisherman’s Wharf, Lombard Hill, Coit Tower, up and down those crazy hills – but it was all worth it, after all it’s San Francisco we’re talking about.
The next day a meeting with the beach was in plan. So, not suspecting anything, went on foot. Now, I’ve always wanted to see the fog in San Fran, and boy did I get my wish. Not 20 minutes have passed since I left the hotel that the fog came. Thick. Fast. Cold. I was searching for a store to buy a sweatshirt but all I came across was: laundry, restaurant, laundry, psychic(?!?!?!). In the end I manage to buy one, reach my destination, visit the Palace of Fine Arts, go to the beach, immerse my feet in the EXTREMLY cold water, crossed the Golden Gate Bridge (for the second time) and was ready to call it a day.
Third day was more of an in-town-sightseeing day: went with the cable car to the Financial
District, visited the Haas-Lilienthal house, then spent the day with a friend.
The journey however ended to soon, and I was really sad to leave the city, but I knew that more great stuff and friends were waiting for me so I cheered up. I reached Wisconsin, went to see the premiere of Twilight with my friends, attended a Thanksgiving dinner at Karen’s grandparents, shopped during Black Friday, stayed one week in Minnesotta (and walked in the snow around the university campus), shopped till I dropped, stayed a couple of days in a resort, with its own waterpark, visited the places I spent the summers – what can I say, a great experience.
But alas, I had to come home (always dreaded these moments). So there I am, with my extremly heavy suitcases in the airport, praying to the Lord they are not overweight – set them on the scale and each has 22,7 pounds (the limit is 23) – somebody up there loves me. Went through security, ate some lunch and patiently waited for my flight to be announced. When I got to my gate, it was empty. Weird. Then I hear that my flight left from a different gate. Finally on-board we get settled. At some point the captain lets us know there is some trouble with the air-conditioning system and the software needs to be updated. No problem. The update lasted about an hour, but it had to be done twice. When we are ready to leave the airport, apparently a plastic bag flew straight through the engine – seriously! So by the time we were ready to leave, we had a 3 hour delay (just the amount of time I was supposed to spend in London between flights). The flight was very pleasant, saw Mamma mia twice, and in the morning we got to London. I had to go through 2 security checks and was told that I was issued a new ticked, but it was not a direct flight to Bucharest, rather London-Munich-Bucharest. I was too tired at this point to care, I just wanted to go home.
Finally I reach Bucharest, without the luggages of course, but no wonder with all this airport hopping I was doing. When I saw mom waiting for my, all was good in the world. We got home, and just then started freaking out about the suitcases because all the presents were there and there were only a couple of days till Christmas. But all was well, the luggages arrived, and I was one happy camper!
Naturally I vowed I would return to the States (gotta use that visa) so the next trip there will be this summer – have to see Disneyland and many other places!
The next episode of my traveling saga – Turkey and my russian experience in the Holy Land!
