Tag: san francisco
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Chinese Takeout
My favorite type of travel is the long, lingering kind. The kind that sees the best of somewhere as well as the not so best. The kind that lets me sit, study and hang. It’s how I ended up in Staunton, Bristol and Fredericksburg. Their one main attraction, aside from a guaranteed paycheck, was that they…
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To the ends of land
I don’t have a hometown. Or at least I don’t have just one. Saying Richmond feels untrue. By the time I moved there, I was a fully formed human being. Saying New York feels incomplete, because I spent a good chunk of my formative years in the Philippines. Saying the Philippines only touches on the…
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Meanwhile in Twitterville, vol. 1
In case you missed it on my Twitter, here are the top 10 links that people have clicked on this month so far. I excluded all the links to this blog (I figured there’s room for only one narcissistic act of self-linking, and that’s going to be to my tumblr). As you can see, it’s…
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Bagnapper’s delight
Just in case you were mystified by my lack of updates, let me direct you to my Twitter. Long story long, I’ve been a tad preoccupied with a major research project at work, on top of being gone for nearly three weeks for Thanksgiving and meetings in Toronto, Chicago, San Francisco, Silicon Valley and San…
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The Epilogue
This is the epilogue of a series of posts on San Francisco. Find the others here. Though brief, my San Francisco adventure reminded me why I love travel. It sharpens the senses and forces you to confront pieces of yourself that surface only in the unfamiliar. It also forces you to look at the you…
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The point of no return
I am not a tough girl. I’ve given up trying to convince myself otherwise. One previous attempt to exude toughness involved a 16-year-old me hurling expletives at a car backing into my path and a lady – an actual tough girl – throwing my expletives back at me. I cowered in fear, mumbled an apology,…
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Meanderlust
If you’re wondering what kind of traveler I am, I’d say I’m a meanderer. A fully committed wanderer travels without a fixed destination, his appendages likely bearing deeply insightful tattoos in foreign characters, including one that, loosely translated in English, says: I go wherever the wind takes me, because the wind is unpredictable, at times…
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Inside Alcatraz
“We’re closed.” My heart fell. I’d spent the last five minutes taking pictures of shoes lined against the wall. The light cast a neat silhouette, the room full of things once owned by society’s ills. Or was it by officers? I couldn’t get the settings quite right, so it didn’t even matter. It had been…
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Alcatraz
At first glance, Alcatraz didn’t seem to provide much respite from the five days of work I’d just had in San Francisco. I’d had little sleep all week, so I felt ragged by the time Phil joined me. I needed a nap, a day of lying down, of lazing about on a beach somewhere. San…
