All Posts Tagged ‘San Francisco

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Shaken in San Francisco

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sanfran1

I worked for two years in San Francisco as a stringer for a News Agency from Spain. A friend of mine let me stay at her family house for a while. One day I was working in my laptop and I noticed that the lights began to behave strangely.

The lamps went too bright and then too dark and I began to smell like if something was burning. But we couldn’t see any fire. My friend, pretty shaken, called 911 and told me: Hurry, unplug all the computers and home appliances and to run off the house. I didn’t have enough time to go thru the kitchen when I was already hearing the sirens of the firefighters trucks arriving at full speed.

We all got out of the house while the firefighters began to search for the fire. By then the lights were completely off. It was an electric fire that exploded in several plugs and switches on walls causing small damages, but ruining the computers I wasn’t able to unplug.

They found the source of the fire (a short-circuit in the wiring that supplied electricity to the entire house) and they made a temporary fix until the guy from the electricity company came (very quickly) and he repaired the wires.

I was the journalist at home so I made the pictures of the damages to send them to the insurance. Then I understood why my friend was so scared from the beginning of the incident: The structure of the house was wooden! We could have burned like a box of matches!

The culprit of the fire was the electric company, because of lack of maintenance of the wires, and they paid for all the damages. In one month I could buy a brand new laptop I desperately needed for my job.

Several days after the fire, we were dinning and suddenly everything began to move. Silence. I grabbed the table. I forgot all the rules and instructions about what to do in case of an earthquake.

I simply looked fixedly at the eyes to my friend like asking her: is this normal? and waited while I was shaken by a force too big to describe. things began to fall around, the dishes were rattling… I don’t know how long it was… ¿seconds? but for me were like hours. And it was “nothing” only a 5.6 degree in the Richter scale.

Ragtag Daily Prompt: Shaken

(the picture is from 1999)

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Beach

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Ocean Beach, San Francisco, seventeen years ago. That place was then the escape valve of my stress, the confidant of my sorrows and joys, the scenery of my solace.
Yes. Those were wonderful and difficult years at the same time. I was far away from home, trying to heal deep wounds in my health and my soul and build a new life. I had got a job as a stringer for a news agency. I had to build my net of sources because I had had to begin from scratch. Everything was new and exciting. I had my home office and I had to work hard in the morning and the afternoon. But usually at 5 pm I was done.
It was time for my walk on the beach. I let the roar of the waves and the wind enfold me, so I could think calmly about what had happened during the day, or simply empty my mind and enjoy the nature.
I loved to observe the flight of the pelicans. Or the funny behaviour of the beach birds.
I miss those walks so much…
It has been a long time since I left the States, but I’ll never forget those wonderful walks on the Ocean Beach in San Francisco

Beach

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Good memories

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Tell us about the top five places you’ve always wanted to visit

Rome, Zagreb, Dubrovnik, Kotor, San Francisco and New York. Those are places where I’ve lived wonderful times. In Rome, Zagreb Dubrovnik and Kotor I had the most moving experiences. In the US I worked, had a lot of fun, and found great friends I would like to go back sometime to remember and enjoy again the wonders of the cities that left a deep trace on my life. As for places I never visited before, I have no preferences. I always have gone where life has led me. I have no wish list. By now I can’t travel, so I’m happy with my walks across the city and occasional outings with my friends to the surroundings where there are beautiful forests and mountains, because we are very close to the Pyrenees.

The Wanderer

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Travel

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Write an anonymous letter to someone you’re jealous of.

Impossible. I can’t write an anonymous letter on my blog. Everybody would know is mine. Besides, I have never written an anonymous. It sounds cowardly and menacing. Not my style. Last time this prompt was published I wrote about health. Now i’ll write about the possibility to travel. I would like to leave my town for a while and go visit my family abroad. Above all I would like to visit again Croatia, its islands and its marvellous historic towns where my family lives. Also I would like to go back to the US and see once more New York and San Francisco where I have enjoyed two wonderful years and have left many friends. Before I die I would like to go once at least to the Holy Land. I’m not naïf. I’m Journalist. I know how problematic it is. But I really would like to visit those places so directly related to my faith. So yeah, I’m a little jealous of the people who can travel at their will.

Green-Eyed Monster.

 

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Gone, But Not Forgotten (II)

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Gone but not forgotten are my years in San Francisco. The pictures I took back then remind me those wonderful days

Here is a scanned picture I took from the Ocean Beach in 1999. I don’t know if the rocks are still populated by pelicans, but I guess are still the same. Scan

This is another picture of the Pacific Ocean taken the same year.

Scan 19

And this is the skyline of San francisco in a typical foggy day

Scan 2

Gone, But Not Forgotten.

 

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Take me back to Manhattan

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“If I can make it there, I’ll make it anywhere,” goes the famous song about New York City. Is there a place — a city, a school, a company — about which you think (or thought) the same? Tell us why, and if you ever tried to prove that claim.

“Take me back to Manhattan,
take me back to New York.
I’m just longing to see once more,
my little home on the hundredth floor!
Can you wonder I’m gloomy?
Can you smile when I frown?
I miss the East side, the West side ,
the North side, and the South side.
So take me back to Manhattan,
That dear old dirty town!”

When I’m down, I use to sing this song from the musical “Anything goes”. It reminds me when I left everything here in Spain, and went to New York, to the unknown, and I survived against all odds.

I stayed six months in the Big Apple before going to San Francisco to work there as a stringer for a news agency.

I rented an apartment and found a temporal job. I learned some English. I met wonderful people who helped me a lot. When I was depressed, I could always get lost where nobody knew me. I laughed, cried…, never got bored. I felt free. I was glad to live the city life, not as a tourist, but as a newcomer citizen.

Since then I’m longing to come back. But I’m afraid to ruin the magic of those six months with a tourist visit.

 

Make It Anywhere.

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Street musicians

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Is there a person you should’ve thanked, but never had the chance? Is there someone who helped you along the way without even realizing it? Here’s your chance to express your belated gratitude.

Rush hour. The subway station in Lexington Ave. with 86th street. I have to take a train to go to  a meeting with some journalists at the Rockefeller Center. But I haven’t realized how affected am I by my depression. Once in the station I feel totally incapable to move and fight my way to enter the car. So I stay behind. when the train goes arises the sound of a street musician playing beautifully the violin from the opposite platform. The acoustic in the station is good. The sound fills everything for a moment. And the melody is delicate and sweet. He is a young Asian guy. A good musician. Soon, people arrive and the sound of the music fades. A second train comes but I’m incapable of coming in, again. The strength abandons me. I have my head empty, my heart heavy, my eyes tearful. And above all I feel awfully tired. Only the music prevent me from a total collapse. I don’t know how much time I pass there listening to the street violinist. Maybe hours. Obviously I lost my appointment, but at least I was able to come back home calmed after such a crisis. I never thanked the musician his help because he was on the opposite platform, but it was a big deal.

Being in San Francisco I had a similar experience with a black guy playing his saxophone in one of the perpendiculars of the Market street where he had found a perfect acoustic. I was particularly down that day. Again discouraged and terribly tired. He gave me a Jazz concert for me . Once again the music calmed me down. In that case I could thank him with a tip, but no with words.

 

Never Too Late.

 

 

 

 

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Two experiences

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When was the last time you took a risk (big or small), and pushed your own boundaries — socially, professionally, or otherwise? Were you satisfied with the outcome?

When the former Yugoslavia was falling apart, I was working in a local newspaper in Spain as a pretty seasoned journalist writing about courts. (Yes, I am so old). I decided to offer my services to a news agency and a magazine, and leave my safe place in Spain to go as a special envoy to a country, first on the edge of the war, and after immersed in war.

I could speak one of the languages and I had a knowledge of the history and the complex political situation of those territories, so I felt I was ready to do the job. It was a great professional experience though personally was tough. It’s not easy to witness so much suffering and write with a cold mind. But what I found baffling was to come back home and find out that most people didn’t care. People were more worried about tiny local problems. I thought on if all that effort had been worth it.

Despite my travels were quick, each time I come back home, for me it was hard to get used again to the uneventful, normal life. I felt guilty. Having seen how my new friends and my relatives were living their day a day in the uncertainty of the war, I perceived my security as an undeserved luxury.

Some years later, my doctor advised me to put some distance between my job and me. Too much stress was taking a high toll in my health. So I left everything and took a plane to the US where I spent two years working as a stringer for a news agency from Spain in San Francisco. Two wonderful years. My nearest boss was in Washington DC. I was as free as a bird. I even earned enough money to pay my rent and live. I enjoyed the city a lot.

 

Envelope Pushers.

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A glass half empty

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We’re less than a week away from Halloween! If you had to design a costume that channeled your true, innermost self, what would that costume look like? Would you dare to wear it?

When I was in San Francisco, I wore for Halloween a firefighter costume. I admire them. I like to help people in trouble. I hope it didn’t mean I was putting out fires at the time. I certainly was trying to face my problems positively and effectively. It was just for fun. Now because of my mood I would design a costume of a glass half empty. This would be great because people  could see the glass half full depending of their point of view so it can result encouraging for others. Would I dare wearing it? If I were in the right environment, I would have no problem, but here in Spain we  don’t celebrate Halloween so much and going out in costume alone would be a little odd.

Although I don’t wear a masks in my life. I even don’t wear make up except for feasts and special occasions. I try to behave the most authentic I can in my daily life. so the best costume would be no costume.

 

Masks Off.

 

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By the Sea

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You’ve been given the ability to build a magical tunnel that will quickly and secretly connect your home with the location of your choice — anywhere on Earth. Where’s the other end of your tunnel?

This sounds familiar and I don’t have new ideas

Providing that this tunnel was magical and easy to dig, I would use it to visit my family and friends who are far away and enjoy the beautiful places I love, and now are out of reach for me. Therefor, I would need a two exits tunnel: one in some port of the Croatian coast and other in San Francisco, California.

With the first one I would take a boat and go visit my relatives from port to port and enjoy the beauty of the coast and its islands, towns and cities. I would go to my mom’s hometown of Senj in the North and sail all the way down to the south to pass to Montenegro and go to the Bay of Kotor where my dad was born.

With the second exit I would go to the city where I left some of my best friends, to catch up with them, have fun, enjoy the city wonders, contemplate the Bay, and have a walk in the Ocean Beach at the sunset.

If the secret tunnel only can have one exit, it would be definitely to a place by the Adriatic sea. I’m docked inland, and I miss the marine breeze in my face, the sight of the immensity and the power of the water, the roar of the waves. All these are like a balsam that opens my spirit, help me think more clearly and make me feel free.

Tunnel Vision.

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Three songs

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The sound of an old Croatian song my father used to sing to my mother brings tears to my eyes even today. It’s a love song with a delicate melody and poetic words I can’t translate titled Good Evening, Marvelous. My dad had a fine tenor voice and loved to sing softly those beautiful melodies he learned in his youth. Songs written to be sung while looking at the sun sinking into the quiet Adriatic Sea in a gorgeous symphony of colors.

Oh how wonderful would be hear again that lovely voice and enjoy those joyful evenings with him singing and chatting. Those days are for ever gone. But the memories are so vivid!

No need to leave the sea to remind a second song significant to me. Is called Mediterranean, by a singer called Joan Manuel Serrat. It’s a poem about how people from the Mediterranean are. I learned to play guitar with this song. It reminds me my youth, the time spent with my friends, singing and playing, those happy days without worries.

A jump to the Ocean to find my third song very different to the previous. Take me Back To Manhattan from the musical Anything Goes. I had a lot of fun singing and dancing this song with my friends when I lived in San Francisco. We had a great time. It brings me memories of joy and laughter.
I use to sing it or humming it now and then, maybe with because I would like that the wish of the song comes true.
I know the lyrics by memory. It goes:
The more I travel, Across the gravel,
The more I sail the sea.
The more I feel convinced to the fact,
New York’s the town for me.
That crazy skyline
Is right in my line,
And when I’m far away,
I’m able to bear it for several hours
Then I brake down and say.

Take me back to manhattan,
Take me back to New York.
I’m just longing to see once more
My little home on the hundredth floor!
Can you wonder I’m gloomy?
Can you smile when i frown?
I miss the east side, the west side ,
the north side, and the south side.
So take me back to manhattan,
That dear old dirty town!

Writing 101, Day Three: Commit to a Writing Practice.

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A Tale of Two Cities

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If you could split your time evenly between two places, and two places only, which would these be?

Probably Zagreb (Croatia) and San Francisco (US). Both cities bring good memories to me. Zagreb is the city where my parents met, get married and started our family. Its a beautiful little central european capital in which everything in the historical center is so familiar and lovely to me. I enjoy wandering in its streets and quarters. I love the place and its people. Besides it’s a great HQ to take trips to visit the other cities of Croatia and its magnificent coast.

San Francisco was the city where I felt more free and happy . I had a great time living and working there. I loved the city its surroundings, the nature, the people, everything.

But necessity has tied me up to Pamplona, Spain, which is also a beautiful but small city. Being realistic my tale is of one city, the city of the running of the bulls, but also an important city in the Way of st. James or Camino de Santiago, with a lot of history on it. A little conflictive but nice.

 A Tale of Two Cities.

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At the end of the day

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After a long day at work or school, what are your favorite ways to wind down and decompress?

After a long day at work, there is more work at home waiting to be done, so no chance to rest immediately and indulge in a wonderful evening.

For a long time I had an added problem. I worked till late at night almost all my life, so I had no time but to fix something simple to eat, do the dishes and go to bed, exhausted.

My best time was when I was working in San Francisco, CA. as a Stringer for a Spanish News Agency and a correspondent for a Spanish Magazine. Because of the different time zones I used to finish my reports early in the afternoon and I had plenty of time to relax after that. My home was near the Ocean Beach and I used to take a refreshing walk after work every day. Those were magnificent days.

Now the circumstances are very different. No beach. No different time zones. No free afternoons.

I think I don’t know exactly how to rest daily, and that’s a big problem. When I have some free time at the end of the day I like to read an interesting book or watch some entertaining TV show. I like to watch good TV series but there are only a few to choose. I’m not watching much TV now. Nothing that interests me. No time.

Now that I’m taking care of my ailing mom there is also difficult to find free time at the end of the day, because it’s then when she needs me more. I try to have good, relaxing moments with her. But it can be difficult. It depends on how she feels.

I find relaxing to write this blog every day even when I’m doing it in a hurry. It helps me occupy my mind in other things and it’s always a challenge.

 

via Have You Never Been Mellow? | The Daily Post.

 

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One, two, three!

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Have you ever played in a band? Tell us all about that experience of making music with friends. If you’ve never been in a band, imagine you’re forming a band with some good friends. What instrument do you play in the band and why? What sort of music will you play?

One: When I was studying at the University I played the drums in a band with my friends. I guess I ended playing the drums because I had a good sense of rhythm, although I preferred to sing. We had a lot of fun rehearsing and performing. Of course we had problems with our neighbours precisely because of my drums. People complained because of the noise. They didn’t appreciate our art skills. For a while we rehearsed in a local situated in a student’s dorm, but some students complained too. They said they couldn’t study with all that noise. But when there was a party they called us to play for free. We played pop, some rock and folk music, whatever our public would ask for. Nothing too complicated. We didn’t compose original songs. We were just a bunch of friends having fun entertaining other friends in their parties.

I didn’t like so much playing the drums, because I had to be so focused on the rhythm I never learned properly the lyrics. So I never fulfilled my dream to sing that funny songs we rehearsed.

Two: Well, I sang in a choir but very different kind of music. Renaissance. It was a small chamber choir of 16 voices. Our conductor was a baritone named Jose Luis Ochoa de Olza. He had a vast repertoire of Italian English and Spanish composers. He also had a wonderful collection of antique musical instruments. We enjoyed making music together and learning from his vast knowledge. We performed in dozens of concerts and in liturgical ceremonies, and we traveled. It was really great.

I left the choir when I began to work as a full time reporter. There were no schedules in my new job. No way to predict if I would be available for a rehearsal or for a concert. So my days as a singer finished soon.

Three: Later on I had again the opportunity to make music with my friends. I went to the US to work for two years. I made some friends in San Francisco who were crazy for musicals and knew how to sing them beautifully. I played the piano for them and they sang and danced. We had a wonderful time.

Daily Prompt: We Got the Beat.
Links to band stories by other bloggers on the next page:

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My brief American dream

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What giant step did you take where you hoped your leg wouldn’t break? Was it worth it, were you successful in walking on the moon, or did your leg break?

My job was hurting my health seriously. My doctor recommended to change and put some distance between me and my old job. So I packed my things and caught a plane in Madrid to New York. There I went with my limited English knowledge to improve the language and work as a stringer and a correspondent. I left my secure job In a solvent company, said goodby to my friends and my family and went alone to the adventure of an insecure job In a new country across the ocean, by myself, and suffering a depression. I focused my first months in New York in improving my English, helping my boss in a report and enjoying the city. I learned to be in a New York state of mind. At the beginning it was not easy. Being depressed in Manhattan it’s not the best way to enjoy the city. You are alone in the middle of the multitude. Feeling that nobody cares about you. But the city has its suppressive caresses. I found unexpected help in the streets, in the metro. I found great friends. Even today I used to sing with nostalgia and good humor the song of the old musical “Anything Goes”:

The more I travel, Across the gravel,
The more I sail the sea.
The more I feel convinced to the fact,
New York’s the town for me.
That crazy skyline
Is right in my line,
And when I’m far away,
I’m able to bear it for several hours
Then I brake down and say.

Take me back to Manhattan,
Take me back to New York.
I’m just longing to see once more
My little home on the hundredth floor!
Can you wonder I’m gloomy?
Can you smile when i frown?
I miss the east side, the west side ,
the north side, and the south side.
So take me back to Manhattan,
That dear old dirty town!

But I couldn’t find a job in New York and I have to move to San Francisco, CA, where I had better possibilities. I immediately fell in love with the city by the bay . With the my work as a stringer for a news agency from Spain a correspondent for a Spanish magazine and others I found I ended earning more than what was earning in my old job in Spain. And I was working from my home office, organizing my schedule, without the old stresses. One of my bosses was in Washington DC and other in Spain. I was free to do whatever I wanted as soon as they had my reports on schedule.  I discovered the wonders of  working by myself without the constant pressure of the bosses In the newsroom. The city had a lot of possibilities to have fun and rest. Again I found wonderful people. Great friends. My health was improving . I was having a great time.

My big step fleeing from Pamplona to look for my particular American Dream was successful but brief. Two years after I took another big step and crossed the Ocean again, this time to come back to my family because they needed me. I recovered my old job and continued working until a year ago when I left definitively. And here I am happy with my loved ones.

Daily Prompt: Walking on the Moon.

Links to big steps posts by other bloggers on the next page:

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What I did for love

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Describe the one decision in your life where you wish you could get a “do-over.” Tell us about the decision, and why you’d choose to take a different path this time around.

I have no regrets about what I did for love. I had the opportunity to stay in the US working in San Francisco where I was happy, having a great time, but my family needed me in Spain so I left the foggy city by the bay to fly thousands of miles away across the Ocean towards the old Europe. And here I am now with the people I love.
I loved San Francisco. I was planning to move permanently. I believed I had finally found my perfect place to live. Beautiful city. Wonderful nature. The Bay and the Ocean beach at hand for me to enjoy the sea breeze every day. Good people. An interesting job. My health was improving also.

But then my father got sick and my family called me. I decided to leave my job and fly to his bedside to help my mom and I’m glad I did it. I wouldn’t change a second with my father for all the time you’ll give me in San Francisco. I treasure the time I spent with him. I learned a lot from him. I received a lot of love from him until his last day. I resumed my work in my old newspaper in Pamplona. Since then I’m living here, with my loved ones which is the most important thing. Many years have passed since my San Francisco adventure. Now my family is here. I’m where my family is as I always wished. Besides, now I can take care of my mom now that she needs me, and that’s important to me.

As the old song says

Gone,
Love is never gone.
As we travel on,
Love’s what we’ll remember.
Kiss today goodbye,
And point me t’ward tomorrow.
We did what we had to do.
Won’t forget, can’t regret
What I did for
Love

Daily Prompt: I Did it My Way.
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Kirkwood, Missouri

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Share a story about the furthest you’ve ever traveled from home.

If I remember properly, we already wrote about this topic recently. I remember writing about my travel from Pamplona, Spain to San Francisco, California where I worked as a foreign correspondent for two years. So this time I’ll write about a trip I made several years before, in 1993, to Kirkwood, Missouri, near St. Louis, to learn English.

It was the first time I crossed the Ocean, my first trip to the US. People thought I was crazy going to a small town lost in the Mid-West instead to visit New York or other touristic places. I only saw the Statue of Liberty from the airport!. But my budget was short and I had a family friend precisely in Kirkwood, Missouri waiting for me.

It was summer very hot and the Mississippi flooded big areas so the humidity was over 80 percent. I didn’t expect that weather. The day after my arrival, when I was still struggling with the jet lag I decided to fix my hair and was trying to do something with the hair dryer when my friend Maureen came, unplugged the dryer and told me with no ceremonies to go to the basement immediately. We had a tornado alarm! I have never seen a tornado in my life, so I got a little scared. I found the rest of the family in the basement listening to the radio. I asked with my broken English if we could do something and they told me: wait an pray. Fortunately the Tornado didn’t touch our neighbourhood and when the alarm was cleared we ran to the TV to watch the report: there were seven tornadoes advancing toward us, but thanks God they touched down in non populated areas. First day, first adventure.

To celebrate my first tornado experience we rented “The Wizard of Oz”. (I love the movie). We had a great time. Maureen come from Kansas so when something went wrong in the house or with my English classes we used to say “I think we are not in Kansas anymore,” and ended laughing.

I also tried to read Mark Twain’s books so close to the floods of the Mississippi. It was not easy, but with my eyes full of these images and my mind learning the new words it was like reading all this known stories for the first time. Unforgettable.

Of course we visited St. Louis, and tasted the delicious ice creams. But I remember specially the Kirkwood local Green Tree festival with its parade, its marching high school brass band, old automobiles, horses, carriages, local representatives shaking hands, people watching… And then the fair in the park with music bands, tents with foods from different places of the world, arts, plays for kids, picnics… They explained to me that they used to plant new trees every year in the park. I enjoyed it a lot.

Short after the festival my three months stay finished and I had to go home. No time and no money to stop in New York.  But I was glad I had known Kirkwood and its people. It was a good trip.

Daily Prompt: Come Fly with Me.

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San Francisco

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800px-GoldenGateBridge-001

I consider myself a world’s citizen. Being an immigrants daughter I’m not too attached to any place. But because I live in Pamplona Spain, I guess my farthest travel from home was the one I made from here to San Francisco California, to work as a foreign correspondent in the late nineties. But San Francisco was my home for several years, so I can say that my travel back to Pamplona was also the farthest.

The first one was to the unknown, the second to the already known. In the first one I had to deal with a new language, a new way of life, a new way of work outside the newsroom, by myself, in my home office, not knowing the local uses. All was new an exciting. The second one was to come back to the old and very known routines.

I had six months of training in New York (so exciting city) before packing my bags and flying to the West Coast. I couldn’t believe my boss when he said to me that they needed people in the West Coast because other correspondents thought it was too far away from home. There was a correspondent in LA and that was it. I was going to report about the Bay Area (including Silicon Valley). A very interesting stuff in the nineties.

I remember two feelings: one was a sense of space to breathe and a gorgeous nature I could enjoy everyday without leaving the city (I loved to take a walk in the evening to the Ocean Beach and watch the pelicans flight). The other was a sense of freedom. Nobody cared why my surname was “different” as it happened often in my city, because I was in the land of immigrants and their names come from different places of the world. I felt accepted from the beginning. So, no problem with my name, a lot of freedom, a gorgeous place, a lovely city with so many things to discover every day, the whole Bay Area to search for news and my nearest boss in Washington DC, East Coast. What more could I ask for?

I remember my first day in the city, vice president Al Gore came and had a press conference and I had to go. It was my first experience with a first-class nation personality and I was impressed how effective and quick were security controlling journalists. I thought they would not allow me enter the place being a newcomer despite my credentials, but they did!. Something unthinkable for me coming from Spain where this kind of things were going back then so tediously and slowly. After that I attended at least two events with president Clinton. Very interesting city for a foreign journalist in those days.

PS: I also saw negative things but this is not the place and the moment to tell about them I think. I tried to help working in a non-profit initiative with some American friends. A drop of water in the desert maybe, but a drop of water at least.

Daily Prompt: Far from Home.

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  32. Daily Prompt: Far From Home | Rachel Davies
  33. An island far from home | tornin2’s Blog
  34. Far Far Far and Away Away Away | I Didn’t Just Wake Up This Morning with a Craving
  35. Distance||Far From Him – A dedication to all those long-distance lovers out there. | Mind My Mind But…
  36. Daily Prompt: Far from Home-Greenwich Mean Time line (GMT) | SABAS LOG
  37. Daily Prompt: Home Is Where | One Starving Activist
  38. Pale Blue Dot | Spirit Lights The Way
  39. Traveling the Distance | Someone Me, Someone You
  40. Separation Anxiety | Cheri Speak
  41. Daily Prompt : Far From Home | hometogo232
  42. Daily Prompt: (Vertical) Distance | Postcards from
  43. So Far From Home | Vampire Maman
  44. No Farther, No Further | clarior e tenebris
  45. View « Getting Rid Of Boredom
  46. Living in a Castle | Create & Motivate!
  47. 16961 km / 10539 miles | thoughtsofrkh
  48. in the land of castles | Musings of a Random Mind
  49. There and back again | djgarcia94
  50. Physical distance, emotional distance: Far from Home | pencil pilot
  51. Far from home in Bali | Travel Blog | TravelGrom.com
  52. Daily Prompt: Far From Home | Word Disorder
  53. Far from home | Musings of a Suburban Creampuff
  54. There and Back Again . . . | meanderedwanderings
  55. Far from Home | The Nameless One
  56. Daily Prompt: There’s no place like home? | mommy&everything
  57. Do Our Differences Truly Separate Us? | The Whimsical Realm of Angela’s Mind
  58. Daily Prompt: Far from Home – FIGURATIVELY AND LITRERALLY SPEAKING.. | LADYBOY PROMPT
  59. Scammed in Mexico (Part I) | A Day in the Life
  60. Lost, Alone, Empty, and Forlorn | Iam Who Iam
  61. Far from Home: Down Under | Khana’s Web
  62. Daily Prompt: Far from Home | Randomness By Izzy
  63. Distance | Pilgrim of Cognition